Stop Texting First and See How Quiet It Gets
You ever play that game? The one where you just… stop texting first. Don’t lie, I know you have. Everyone has, even if it’s just “as an experiment.” Same energy as stopping at the top of the stairs to see if anyone else in the house can remember you exist. Spoiler: they can’t.
So, here’s what happens. You tell yourself, “I text first all the time. I’ll just… see what happens if I don’t.” Then you wait. And wait. And—oh look—it’s so silent your ears are ringing. All you can hear is the faint buzz of your own self-respect coming back online.
Some people, you swear, they’d go full Rip Van Winkle before sending a “hey.” They’re physically incapable. The phone could literally melt in their hands before they take initiative. And yet, when *you* text, they suddenly have thumbs! Weird how that works.
Let’s get real for a second: A relationship (romantic, platonic, doesn’t matter) should not depend entirely on you carrying it across the Sahara with 17 liters of emotional labor strapped to your back like some sort of needy camel. If you feel crazy for wondering why nobody is checking in on you unless you do it first—honey, you’re not the crazy one. You’re the only one with a pulse apparently.
And no, I don’t mean cut off everybody. We’re not burning bridges, we’re just… rerouting traffic for necessary construction. But if *crickets* is what happens when you stop reaching out, don’t you want to know that? Wouldn’t you rather see the raw, ugly truth of who actually gives enough of a damn to miss you?
Here’s where it gets extra spicy. The people who are “too busy” to text first? Oh, they are out here posting on socials, liking random memes, updating their story with another latte shot, but somehow letting your thread gather more dust than a Blockbuster.
“Oh sorry babe, I’ve just been soooo swamped.” Uh huh. With what, watching paint dry? Some people genuinely suck at communication, and some people just suck at effort. Let’s not confuse the two.
It’s wild. You’ll sit there, feeling neglected, like you’re asking too much, when really all you want is a little basic human reciprocity. That shouldn’t be a luxury package in relationships. That should be standard, like airbags in a car.
You know what the quiet actually is? It’s space for you—finally, blessedly, gloriously—for YOU. It’s not just the absence of noise, it’s the presence of possibility. You get time to pour your energy somewhere that does more than just evaporate into a digital black hole.
And yeah, it stings. There’s that petty, annoying part of you that wants them to notice. Wants that BIG, dramatic apology that never comes. Instead, you get silence, and you know what? Silence is an answer. It’s not the sparkly one you want, but my god is it direct.
So if you need a sign to stop chasing, leaning, reaching, good god — this is it. Drop the phone like it’s on fire and watch. Breathe. Let the silence do the heavy lifting.
Because if nobody’s reaching out when you put your phone down, maybe it’s time to start reaching in. Pay attention to the ones who don’t let things get quiet. That’s where your people are. The rest? You’re not losing them—they were never really there.
Now, go be gloriously unavailable. Let ‘em miss you for a change. Or don’t. Either way, at least you get your peace and your dignity back. And nothing’s louder than the sound of you, finally, not settling.
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