Some Days I Just Want to Disappear — And Not Even Be Missed

Do you ever get tired of existing the right way?

Smiling at the right time. Responding with the right tone. Keeping your mess quiet and your voice soft.

Some days, I don't want to explain my silence.

I just want to vanish — quietly.

Not forever. Just long enough to stop pretending.

The Performance of Being “Okay”

Every day, I wake up and rehearse.

I rehearse my “Good morning.” I rehearse being productive. I rehearse sounding like someone who’s handling it all.

And I am.

I handle it.

I send the texts, show up, make the jokes.

But no one sees the version of me that collapses in the bathroom before a Zoom call.

No one sees the small panic I feel when my phone lights up and I don’t have the energy to respond.

I’ve mastered the performance. The rhythm of nods, eye contact, polite laughter.

But when the curtain falls — and the door clicks shut — I’m just a shadow.

And some days, I wonder—

If I stopped performing… would I still be worth anything?

When You Don’t Want to Die, But You Don’t Want to Keep Living Like This

I don’t want to die.

I just want to stop.

Stop needing to prove I’m strong. Stop showing up when I have nothing left. Stop being a project in progress.

I don’t want a funeral.

I want invisibility.

A break from being known.

From being “on.”

There’s a kind of ache that’s not loud. It’s not sharp. It’s just there.

A quiet wish:

“Let me go for a while. Let me rest without the world asking why.”

And I hate that I feel guilty for it.

Like I owe the world brightness I don’t even have.

Like if I say I’m tired, I have to explain where every ounce of my energy went.

But sometimes, I don't even know.

It just… slips through me. Like water through open fingers.

The Ache of Being Forgotten vs. The Ache of Being Watched

It’s strange—

I fear being forgotten.

But I also fear being seen too closely.

People say, “Check in more.” “Speak up.” “We’re here for you.”

But what they don’t know is that being watched while unraveling is its own kind of pain.

I want someone to understand…

That sometimes I want to disappear without being rescued.

I want to be unimportant.

Not pitied.

Not fixed.

Just let go. For a while.

Even the most well-meaning eyes can feel like pressure.

Even care can feel like obligation.

And the question “How are you?” can feel like a spotlight I never asked for.

I’m not ungrateful. I just… want to be free from the weight of being witnessed.

Places I Go When I Feel Like Ghosting the World

There’s a stairwell near my building where no one ever goes. I sit there sometimes, just listening to the pipes hum.

There’s a note in my phone titled “ghost drawer.” It’s full of messages I write but never send. Things I wish I could say — but can’t. Because I don’t want to be a burden.

Sometimes, I record voice memos of myself crying.

Not to share.

Just so I know it happened.

So I know I was real.

I walk past strangers and pretend I’m one of them.

I sit in cafés with headphones in and no music playing, just so I can feel invisible.

These aren’t escapes.

They’re quiet ways of saying, “Please, let me not exist for a bit.”

And in those silent places, I finally breathe.

Not because the pain is gone—

But because I don’t have to perform around it.

I’ll Stay, But Not Because I’m Better

I stay.

Not because I’ve figured it out. Not because I’ve stopped aching.

I stay because I saw a soft yellow light on the wall this morning, and it reminded me of childhood.

I stay because there’s a poem I haven’t finished.

I stay because someone, somewhere, will make soup tonight — and eat it alone — and that quiet act feels sacred to me.

I stay because the world is heavy.

But sometimes, I find a corner of it that doesn’t ask me to be anything.

And that’s enough.

I stay.

Not loudly. Not with certainty.

But softly.

I stay.