Like I Was Never Here

I keep thinking that if I could just disappear, without ending my life, everything would fall into place.

I wouldn’t have to wake up in a world where I never feel like the real me. Disappearing would still hurt people, but it wouldn’t leave a permanent scar. They could keep living without the shock of losing me for good. No more pretending everything is fine, no more overthinking, no more apologizing for how heavy I feel inside. I could just dissolve, watch the world go on without me, and not carry the guilt of ending it myself.

If I never existed, all the pressure to show up and be someone I’m not would vanish. Watching from a distance might prove that I mattered. Disappearing would show whether the people I love could still remember me, like in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, when Clementine pauses on the beach and something about Joel lingers in her, even as her memories fade.

Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the idea. It feels like a clean break. No more replaying painful memories every day. No more fearing I’ll disappoint someone, or feeling undervalued and unappreciated. Just silence.

I know it sounds like running away. But it’s not.
It’s choosing quiet over a war I keep losing inside my head.