I got ghosted again like three Tuesdays ago and I’m still low-key mad about it while simultaneously laughing at how predictable I am.
Sitting here in my apartment in [redacted US city], rain smacking the window, DoorDash bag leaking grease onto the counter, staring at the same three gray dots that never turned into words. Classic. So if you’re also freshly ghosted (or ghosted again because apparently we collect these experiences like Pokémon cards), this is my current, flawed, slightly unhinged American 2026 take on what actually helps…and what makes everything so much worse.
Why Getting Ghosted Again Feels Worse Every Time
Then poof. Nothing. Not even a lame “busy at work” excuse. Just silence so loud my AirPods couldn’t drown it out.
And the really embarrassing part? I still checked his Instagram story views for like five days straight like some kind of FBI agent with no badge. Pathetic. But very human.
According to Psychology Today’s piece on ghosting, it activates the same brain regions as physical pain. So no, you’re not “overreacting.” Your nervous system literally thinks you got punched.
Epigastric Pain: Causes, Symptoms & Treatment Guide
What to Do When Ghosted (Stuff That Actually Helped Me… Eventually)
Here’s what I’ve learned after too many rounds of this garbage:
- Give yourself exactly 24–48 hours to spiral. Set a timer. Cry in the shower, text your group chat “heyyy so I’m officially a ghost resident now lol kill me,” eat half a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one sitting. Then when the timer dings, delete the chat thread. Not archive. Delete. It’s oddly satisfying.
- Move the evidence out of sight. I once screenshotted every cute message just so I could re-read them and feel worse. Stop that. I moved all dating apps into a folder called “Taxes” so I have to consciously decide to torture myself.
- Do one physical thing that proves you still exist. I swear by going to the 24-hour diner at 2 a.m. and ordering pancakes. Something about fluorescent lights and a waitress calling me “hon” reminds me the world didn’t end.
- Talk to a real human who won’t judge. My best friend literally said, “Babe he’s probably just bad at conflict and also has the emotional range of a goldfish. You’re fine.” Sometimes that bluntness is medicine.
More formal (but still legit) advice: the Cleveland Clinic has a short ghosting coping guide that basically says feel the feelings but don’t chase.
What NOT to Text After Being Ghosted (Lord Help Me I’ve Sent Most of These)
Do. Not. Send. Any. Of. The. Following. I’m begging you with my whole chest.
- The “???” triple text at 1:47 a.m.
- The 7-paragraph “just checking in because I thought we had a connection” essay
- “Did I do something wrong?” ← instant ick for them and instant regret for you
- The fake breezy “hey stranger 👀 long time no see lol” two weeks later
- Anything involving the words “closure” or “respectfully” in all caps
I once sent the absolute worst one: “Hey I know you’re probably super busy but if I did something that turned you off just tell me so I can grow 🥲”
Reader, he read it at 8:42 p.m. and still never answered. I wanted to delete my entire personality after that.
Here’s a whole BuzzFeed list of texts people wish they never sent post-ghosting. You’ll feel seen. And slightly less alone in your cringe.
Here’s me realizing I should’ve just closed the app instead:
The One Text You’re Allowed to Send (Only If You Really Want To)
If you must send something, keep it short, dignified, and final. My go-to now (which I actually used last year and felt proud of):
“Hey, haven’t heard from you so I’m gonna assume you’re not feeling it. No hard feelings—take care.”
Then immediately block / mute / delete / throw phone into the Pacific if necessary.
Final Rambling Thoughts From Someone Still Figuring It Out
Ghosted again sucks. Full stop. It’s humiliating, it hurts, and it makes you question whether you’re even likable.
It’s usually just cowardice, bad timing, or them being emotionally unavailable in a very loud way.
So right now I’m sitting here with cold coffee, rain still tapping, and I’m telling you (and myself): you’re allowed to be pissed, you’re allowed to mourn the could-have-been, but you’re not allowed to keep texting into the void like it’s a Magic 8-Ball that will eventually answer.
