The Ghosts of Concern...
When Absence Speaks Louder Than Empty Words...
Dear Readers,
It’s funny how people suddenly remember you after years of silence. Not because they care, not because they notice your struggles, not because they feel the weight of your absence, but because something in their world reminded them, and for a fleeting second, you became convenient.
Where were they when life was hard? Where were they when the world seemed to tighten its grip around your chest? Where were they when isolation became a companion and pain became a routine? Now, suddenly, there’s a call, a message, a “Hey, where do you stay?” as if time and distance never existed. Sometimes, I wonder if these people are just flying monkeys of someone else, my ex’s flying monkeys, sent to poke, prod, and remind you that they’re still controlling the narrative in some way.
Let me tell you something: concern isn’t measured in minutes of memory or random check-ins. Concern is shown in consistency, in loyalty, in being present when nobody is watching. Fake concern is a shadow that lingers for a moment and vanishes the instant it’s inconvenient. It’s the applause after the performance, not the hand that steadied you backstage.
I haven’t locked anyone out. I haven’t blocked numbers, erased voices, or closed doors. But make no mistake, the cowards did. They chose silence, absence, and avoidance for years, and now they try to force their presence into a life they abandoned. Why should the lost and the absent suddenly get a place in my present? What right do they have to break into a space they never respected?
To the world: stop pretending concern is a coat you put on when it suits you. Stop expecting access to lives you neglected. Stop confusing nostalgia with responsibility, memory with loyalty, and curiosity with love. There is no shortcut to sincerity. There is no substitute for real presence.
Fake concern is worse than silence. Silence respects boundaries. Fake concern mocks them. And I see it now. I see it clearly. The world may try to enter my life with sudden affection, with convenient curiosity, but I am not naive. I am not waiting with open arms for the ghosts of concern that were never there when I needed them.
To those who called themselves my friends, my confidants, my colleagues, wherever you are now, in your comfort, in your successes, in your good places, remember this: I put you there. I supported you, I believed in you, and I carried you in ways you will never know. Yet you have forgotten me. I have not forgotten you. I have held my tongue. I have preserved my peace. I have endured, I have persisted, I have grown stronger in silence.
God knows every trial I faced, every wound I hid, every night I wrestled with the weight of the world. God has never left me. And as for those who abandoned, betrayed, or overlooked me, let it be known, justice is not mine to mete. It is God’s. And when the time comes, God will see, God will judge, and God will act with perfect truth. I rest in that certainty, and I continue, unshaken, unbroken, and whole.
If you truly care, it shows. If you truly notice, it matters.
Otherwise, step aside. Step back.
Do not pollute my space with echoes of a concern you never carried.
Until next time,
—Jacob M. / Awriterstip
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