We met in eighth grade. I was awkward and anxious, she was bold and magnetic. Her name was Rachel Jennings, and from the moment we sat next to each other in science class, it was like we just clicked.
Over the next fifteen years, Rachel became my person. We survived high school breakups, college dorm drama, job changes, family loss—you name it. She knew my darkest fears, my biggest dreams, and how I liked my coffee without ever having to ask.
We were more than best friends. We were family.
So when she stopped answering my texts, I figured it was just life getting in the way.
When she didn’t respond to my birthday message, I figured she was busy.
When weeks turned to months with no replies, no calls, no explanation—I figured… I must’ve done something wrong.
At first, I made excuses for her.
She just started a new job. Maybe she’s overwhelmed. Maybe something happened. Maybe she’s mad about something she didn’t want to talk about yet.
But then she posted a story on Instagram—out with friends at a bar we used to go to together. Laughing. Living. Not busy. Not hurt. Just… moving on.
And that’s when it hit me: I’d been ghosted.
Not by a bad date.
Not by an old acquaintance.
By my best friend.
The silence was deafening. It wasn’t just the lack of messages—it was the absence of someone who had once taken up such a massive space in my life. No fight. No falling out. Just a slow fade into nothing.
I wish I could say I let it go gracefully. I didn’t.
I reread our old texts. I questioned every conversation we’d had in the months leading up to her silence. I played back memories trying to find the moment where things went wrong.
But there was no single moment. That’s what made it worse. She just left.
I didn’t want revenge. I didn’t want to post passive-aggressive quotes online.
I wanted a reason. An explanation. A chance to fix it—or at least mourn it.
But that never came.
So instead, I had to do the one thing no one teaches you how to do:
I had to find closure without answers.
I started journaling.
I wrote her a letter I never sent.
I talked to a therapist.
And most importantly, I started redefining what friendship means to me.
I realized that sometimes, the people who are meant to stay forever… don’t.
People grow apart. People change. And yes, sometimes, people leave without saying goodbye.
It’s not fair.
It’s not kind.
But it is real.
And in that realness, I had a choice: hold on to the pain of what I didn’t understand—or make peace with the fact that not every story ends with a neat little bow.
Now, a few years later, I don’t hate Rachel. In fact, I hope she’s doing well. I hope she found what she needed. But I’ve stopped romanticizing the friendship. I’ve stopped blaming myself.
The truth is, ghosting says more about the person doing it than the one receiving it.
It took me a long time to accept that silence is an answer.
And sometimes, closure isn’t something someone gives you.
It’s something you create for yourself.
Final Thought:
Not every friendship ends in flames. Some just fade away—and that silence can hurt the most. But even when goodbye isn’t said out loud, we still have the power to heal, grow, and move forward on our own terms.
