The Art of Losing a Person

People love to praise technology and social media for how they bring us closer, but I despise them for the very reason they make it so easy to cut people out of your life. One minute, you’re texting every day, sharing everything, even through the isolating days of COVID. The next minute—silence. What started as daily conversations after becoming friends in person, slowly fizzled out to occasional messages, then to nothing at all. We even shipped each other birthday presents, small gestures that felt like a tangible reminder of how close we were. But when I reached out, desperate for some clarity, I was met with complete silence. When I finally confronted you about it, I was left on read.

That’s how a four-year friendship ended. We changed cities three times between us, but it never felt like a problem. We stayed connected, despite the distance. So when you ghosted me, it hit harder than I expected. No explanation, no closure—just a painful void.

The hardest part? The lingering question of what went wrong. It’s not just the end of a friendship. I once read somewhere that in ancient times, being rejected by your tribe didn’t just mean emotional pain—it could mean death. Being cast out meant losing your survival network. That part of our brain hasn’t evolved. It still reacts like we’re being abandoned, like our very survival is at stake. It’s no wonder ghosting feels so devastating.

It embarrassingly reminds me of the story of Gilgamesh and Enkidu. They were once the closest of friends, fighting side by side, sharing their victories and their losses. But when Enkidu died, Gilgamesh was left in a sea of grief. He searched for meaning in a world where the person he trusted most was suddenly gone, without warning or explanation—just like how I feel now. Sometimes it’s not the absence of the person that hurts most, but the void they leave behind.

But life moves on. I’ll cherish the good moments we shared, and I’ll keep growing, even without the closure I was hoping for.