Ghosts of the Living
The Strange Grief of Slow Goodbyes
There are people I still see.
In photos.
In updates.
In timelines that move forward while something in me stays behind.
They’re alive.
They’re laughing.
They’re still here… just not with me.
And that’s the hardest part.
We didn’t end with a fight.
We didn’t even say goodbye.
We just faded — slowly, quietly, until the space between us became something I didn’t know how to cross.
When the Connection Goes Quiet
Sometimes we still talk.
But it’s surface now — polite, distant, half-hearted.
Sometimes we don’t talk at all, but I still think of them.
Not with bitterness, but with something softer… like nostalgia laced with ache.
Maybe we changed.
Maybe the version of me that needed them no longer fits their life.
Or maybe they outgrew the version of me I couldn’t let go of.
Grieving What Was Never Officially Lost
It’s a grief with no ceremony.
No closure.
No reason to cry — and yet, the sadness still lingers.
I carry their memory like ghosts.
Not gone.
Just unreachable.
And somehow, that hurts even more.
This is for the people we miss who still exist.
For the connections we didn’t want to lose.
For the friendships that faded without warning.
You mattered.
You still do.
Even if I only say it here.
For the ones we loved quietly, and still do.
Thoughts to explore. Words to let go.
Notes That Found a Home
