Ghosting myself

Spooky DMs, navigating friendships and travel thoughts

Coming back to this newsletter feels like picking up a conversation after ignoring an unread DM for months. I’m not implying that you have been refreshing my Substack for weeks on end waiting for a new piece. I just feel frustrated because I do have a lot of Thoughts that could have found a home here; I’ve started so many drafts during the last five months that remain unfinished - I couldn’t stand anything that was flowing out of me. On the other hand, I told myself as I scrolled endlessly on LemonTok, why am I putting so much pressure to produce something for this newsletter when it’s nothing more than a side project to dump random takes and rants?

One of the things I’ve thought about a lot during my writing gap is ghosting. A couple of months ago, a Person reached out to me on Instagram, inviting me as a guest on their platform. As a fan of their work, I was honoured. We went about arranging times and dates for a meeting to discuss content angles, structure and themes. The day came, the hour came, and nothing. I haven’t heard from the Person since (I did send a gentle nudge two weeks after our fictional meeting, but this ghost was ghosting hard so I let it RIP after a while).

My ego was probably bruised, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around it: why would someone who reached out to me on their own volition decide to go AWOL (the ancestor of ghosting)? Did they think I was the wrong person after all? (Fair enough). Did they get intel in the mean time to stay clear of me (I don’t think I’ve reached any status in life that would warrant nemeses but who knows)? Or did they just have a bad week (a bad couple of months?). I did the toxic thing where I checked their socials and observed that they were very much alive and kicking.

My frustration stemmed from the fact that I have a hard time dealing with things unsaid. And that’s not to say I haven’t ghosted before (for both good or bad reasons). There are a myriad of reasons to just peace out with no justification. People who ghost exes, creepy Tinder dates, abusive relationships, inquisitive family questions, ‘friends’ who leech off energy and time. But most times I try to hold myself accountable and flesh out the things that need to be said before putting a conversation to rest. It’s often dry, maybe cold, but I also expect people I interact with, especially close circles, to be honest and call me out when I’m crossing lines.

I also understand that a ghost is sometimes just a person who is overwhelmed. I understand the need to not respond immediately to every darned notification that comes through multiple social channels everyday - we would go mad if we had to function as knee-jerk reactions. But I do believe in clear communication and sometimes, if the circumstances allow it, putting a project, a collaboration, a friendship, or relationship to a halt in a clear-cut way is the only way forward.

While flipping this ghost story left right and centre in my mind I realised that, in a way, I ghosted myself and this writing space, and I kept putting it off because there’s been a clock ticking in my head, counting the days, weeks, months since I last wrote and the longer the gap became the harder it was for me to actually sit down and click on “New post”. I’m gonna assume that my Ghost probably feels the same way and maybe one day I’ll get an answer. Or maybe never. But I’m gonna give them the benefit of the doubt and put my anxieties and resentment to rest - the Ghost life can be hard.

One other thing that has been on my mind is friendships.

I’ve learned something that isn’t radically new to many but is to me. I’m one of those annoying Google-Sheet planners that will organise the hell out of anything that can be squeezed into dynamic rows and columns. But once I let go of the pivot tables and try to go with the flow, some interactions have screeched to a halt. The beginning of the year was a good reminder to stop clogging my calendar with dinners and drinks and coffees and getaways when energies aren’t reciprocated. The act of slowing down paved the way for more home cooked meals, more gentle (and early) nights, listening to songs from my teenagehood on long walks, and deeper conversations with close(r) friends. It’s a quieter life, but not a lonely one. Everything I do feels more intentional.

During my hiatus, I was lucky enough to travel to Vietnam. That trip probably deserves a newsletter post of its own but I felt wary of falling into the trappings of an “Eat, Pray, Love” trope. I discovered some surprisingly uncanny similarities with Mauritius; the boiled peanuts and green, bitter mangoes sprinkled with salt and chilli that are served with a sweaty beers, the humidity that latches on like a second skin and tightens curls that usually get flattened out in the northern hemisphere, the outdoor soup food stalls, the lush greenery and the heavy rains. There was a stillness to the chaos in Hà Nội, where café-sipping and people-watching is superior in so many ways to its Parisian counterpart. Reading The Sympathizer by Nguyễn Thanh Việt probably does not qualify as a light beach read but it was the best companion, alongside the many conversations powered by the Google Translate speech app, to scratch the surface of a country, history and people that is understandably very hard to grasp.

I’ve been reading slowly but steadily throughout the year and will probably dedicate future posts to some of the books. Friends, I just finished Yellowface by R. F. Kuang and those who still see my unhinged stories on Instagram know how much I’ve been waiting for this one. I haven’t given it a star review yet because I still don’t know how I feel about it, but stay tuned! I would still encourage anyone who is familiar with Bookstagram, Twitter drama, and book publishing’s racism problem in general to read it. I need to discuss it with real people so please let me know if you have read it too.

Also another year has gone by and I am, yet again, one year older. I’m happy to report that I did not get a birthday grill this time around. Fun fact: last year, my group of friends were organising, unbeknownst, to me a surprise birthday party for my 30th and this piece set off tiny panic waves in the group chat. The party was a success, and the gifts on point, but I think I’m no longer in a space where I feel like birthday gifts define who I am. At least, I hope not because I’m very much into candles and ceramics - I guess I am now as basic and mundane as a birthday grill?

Stay tuned for some book discourse, very biased reviews, and some more news from the office front as I, yet again, try to save myself from toxic corporate culture. I also have a piece on Brown Karens (who I’ve dubbed as 7-Kurry-Karens) but it sent me in a fit of nerves so I probably need to wait before I hit the send button.

Until then (which I hope is soon),

S.