I love vocabulary. The ways syllables roll off the tongue, out of the lips, form coherent thoughts. The letters create meaning and form sentences and give life itself. I truly love words. They hold power.
So, I learned a new vocabulary word recently, and it caught me dead in the water. “Ghosting,” that’s the word. I don’t often recommend Urban Dictionary, but in this case, the definition nails it.
Ghosting is “the act of suddenly ceasing all communication with someone the subject is dating, but no longer wishes to date. This is done in hopes that the ghostee will just “get the hint” and leave the subject alone, as opposed to the subject simply telling them he/she is no longer interested. Ghosting is not specific to a certain gender and is closely related to the subject’s maturity and communication skills. Many attempt to justify ghosting as a way to cease dating the ghostee without hurting their feelings, but it in fact proves the subject is thinking more of themselves, as ghosting often creates more confusion for the ghostee than if the subject kindly stated how he/she feels.”
The word, so pop culture in nature, threw off my axis. Because I was the ghost.
Circumstances don’t really matter, but I’ve been on the giving end of this kind of behavior.
This is an open apology to that man, the “ghostee.”
I’m sorry I stopped talking. I’m sorry I didn’t call, or text, or say a word to let you know. I’m sorry I left you alone and wondering all this time.
I’m sorry I was afraid of your infatuation and the fury of your affection, and got scared and ran away. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to tell you then, (and don’t know how to tell you now) that I didn’t know what love was and that the infatuation made me feel good and better about myself and that was all.
I’m sorry I didn’t look you in the eye to tell you that.
I’m sorry that I can barely stand in the same room as you now and that I can’t look you in the eyes now and apologize. I’m sorry for how it ended. I’m sorry it hurt you, and for the pain you must have felt. I’m sorry that was I was immature and that I caused confusion and heartache and loneliness and hurt.
I’m sorry you’ll never see this, and I’m sorry I’ll never say it out loud because I wonder if that might hurt you and me more; it might cause even more heartache and brokenness and hurt.
I’m sorry for the mess I made.
But most of all? I’m sorry that I didn’t love you like Jesus loves you. Because if I loved you like Jesus loves you, then I wouldn’t have been obsessed with your infatuation and I would have loved you like a sister loves a brother before I enjoyed you as a man.
Thank you for teaching me that.
I hope you find the woman who loves you like Jesus before she’s in love with you. You deserve it.