To my former situationship, whom I briefly convinced I was emotionally available,
I write to you from the far beyond. Not hell. And certainly not heaven, but a vague, undefined realm where ghosters retreat when a conversation starts to feel like it might require a basic level of human connection.
Yes, I know, I know. It's been weeks. Oh wait … no, it's been months. Time just works differently when you're on me time — and as you know, my me time is sacred and a very demanding full-time commitment.
Now, before you start getting all accusatory of me being "avoidant," "inconsiderate" or "emotionally stunted," hear me out. I did not disappear without reason — that would be rude. I disappeared because you committed the ultimate sin: You became a person with expectations that require basic communication.
God forbid a person wants to preserve an air of mystery.
You started asking questions like, "How was your day?" and "What do you look for in a relationship?" and worst of all, "So … what are we?"
Anyway, I've heard through the astral plane that you took my disappearing act the wrong way, which is kind of confusing. I thought that one time I responded to your heartfelt paragraph with an "Aw thx" was a clear indicator that I just wasn't looking to commit to anyone.
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But since you've probably been spiraling for weeks, wondering if I dropped off the face of the Earth, I'm here, and I'm back to confirm I didn't.
Please don't take it personally. Truly. It's not you. It's me. Particularly, my attention span, fear of emotional intimacy and my deep-rooted belief that communication is optional unless I'm feeling lonely at one in the morning.
Let's clear the record: I didn't "ghost" you.
I just performed an unannounced emotional evacuation. A quiet disappearance into the mist. What some may call "immaturity," I call preserving the peace.
So here's where I was this whole time:
First, I entered the ether of unread messages, a tranquil dimension filled with people who either opened a text, panicked and decided they'd respond later, or left it on delivered. It's quite a place. The skies are gray. The vibes are vague, and there are red flags all over. Everyone there is "going through a lot right now," even though they've been going through their ex's highlights on repeat. Not me, though.
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Then I drifted into the self-improvement zone, which I considered for a moment when a TikTok titled "Signs You're Emotionally Avoidant" popped onto my For You Page, and it spoke to me. For a moment, I reached what I think people call "self-awareness" and contemplated maybe doing some inner work. But alas, I shrugged it off and kept on scrolling.
No, I did not go to actual therapy. After all, avoidance is free, and therapy is not.
After that, I briefly wandered back to Earth to haunt someone else. Before you roll your eyes at me, let me clarify: It wasn't serious. It was a casual situationship. A harmless little possession of someone's attention.
Finally, I descended into the "Oops I Totally Forgot" abyss, where ghosters go when we realize it's probably too late to respond. This little poking sensation creeps in, I think it's shame, and decide to do nothing about it.
Because at this point, replying isn't just a message — it's accountability. And I think we both know I'm not built for that.
I hope this answered some questions. If I ever reappear with a "Hey there," feel free to ghost me back!
Warm regards from the far beyond,
The Ghost of Situation Past
P.S. Thinking about coming back down to Earth ... wanna hang out?
Editor's note: The opinions presented in this satire are the author's and do not imply any endorsement from The State Press or its editors.
Edited by Senna James, Henry Smardo and Ellis Preston.
Reach the reporter at mmart533@asu.edu.
Like The State Press on Facebook and follow @statepress on X.
MJ is a senior reporter. She previously worked as a part-time reporter for Sci-Tech.
