Exorcising My 2025 Ghost

Ghosting—that confusing phenomenon which happens only to the best of us. My ghoster pops into my head in the form of long, elaborate dreams once every six months, like last night, for example. I woke up disoriented. I had to remind myself, "Behen, this story ended in the summer of 2025. In fact, it wasn't even a story—more like two tiny sentences inside a tumbling paragraph." 

I quickly used AI to decipher what my brain was trying to tell me. An "emotional cleanse," apparently, or in my words, an "emotional, nice, long, satisfying early morning dump"—clear the fecal matter and allow space for quality specimens similar to the Alphonso mango; one bite and you don't want to stop.

I digress. Coming back to the topic of ghosting: it truly only happens to the best of us. We open up too soon, faster than The Flash. It's quite natural that they would run because they probably never wanted to open up in the first place. You weren't window shopping; they were. You were planning to bring home a lovely skirt; they were just browsing through all the racks of clothes. 

No one is to blame in this situation except the ghoster. Next time, just tell the person who is not window shopping that you are, and no hearts will get burnt.

In the words of my good friend five nights ago, who clapped his hands with glee and said, "Wah! Very good!" when I mentioned my ghoster from one year ago—it's about time I also said, "Wah! Very good." 

My brain, just like any other hormonal human brain, is confused at times. Never forget the person that you are when you get ghosted. Hold onto yourself. 

Let that window shopper go. Rest easy, knowing you will go back home with a quality cashmere scarf one day. So, let's wait for that day. Peace!