Radio. Fucking. Silence.

And then I found out about No Contact.
Another YouTube deep dive.
“Go silent. Create distance. Let him come to you.”

Apparently, that’s how you get someone back—or at the very least, get your sanity back.

This was the “right” way to handle a dismissive… whatever.
“Cut off access.” “Make them miss you.”
Even the tarot readers were in on it.

So I started to fade.
More space between texts.
No more updates. No more breadcrumbs.

I told myself I was doing it to protect myself.
But if we’re being honest?
I just wanted him to smarten up.
I wanted him to regret his decision.

But it didn’t feel like empowerment.
It felt like self-inflicted torture.
Leaving myself with open wounds.
No closure. Just silence.

They say, “His actions should be your closure.”
But I just rolled my eyes.
Like… fuck off.
As if that makes the ache go away.
But deep down, I knew.

Giving him access would only lead one place:
The short end of the stick.
Contact on his terms.
Booty calls and late-night texts.
200% emotional unavailability.
And me…playing cool, for scraps.

So I stayed silent.
Even though the silence burned.
Because being “nice” never got me anywhere with someone who didn’t know what to do with love.

Still… I lurked.
Still watched from the shadows.

That’s when I saw it.
He was back online.
Dating.
Like nothing happened.
Like we never happened.

Then he saw me too.
And just like that…
No texts.
No calls.
No “how are you?”
Just silence.

Radio. Fucking. Silence.

It wasn’t just no contact anymore.
It was no acknowledgment.
No trace. No effort. Nothing.

My heart sank.

And yet…
He still likes my stories.
Still taps the little heart on my posts like he didn’t ghost me.
Like we’re good.

I don’t understand.

What is that?
Guilt? Curiosity? Control?

Is it a breadcrumb?
A reminder?
Just muscle memory?

Because how does someone erase you in real life
but keep tabs on your highlight reel?

I thought No Contact was about getting through to him.
But it turned out to be the first step back to me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At first, no contact didn’t feel like self-preservation.
It felt like self-torture.
Because what I was craving wasn’t space, it was validation.

The ache of loneliness wasn’t just about missing him.
It was about feeling invisible.
Left to carry feelings that had nowhere to go.
Grief.

And even though he doesn’t get to set the terms for my worth,
my body still felt like it was waiting for his response
to decide whether I mattered.

But the truth?
His silence wasn’t an answer.
And it was never meant to be.

His actions were never an indicator of my value,
just a reflection of his limitations.
And proof that we were never really on the same page.
About partnership, about the future.

The time, the space, the pain that came with it…
it all felt like too much.
Being alone with my own thoughts
Trying to look happy on the outside,
But falling apart on the inside.
But now I know.
It was the tunnel I had to walk through.
It’s where I’d meet myself on the other side.

I made this all about him.
His presence.
His absence.
His attention.

But No Contact wasn’t to punish him
It was to free myself.

And maybe that's what healing is.
Not clarity in the moment,
but the kind that shows up after the storm.

I see it now.