To the Dismissive Avoidant Who Thinks They Have It All Figured Out

You don’t really look at yourself, do you?

Not the polished version. Not the expensive clothes. Not the curated life that looks good from the outside. I mean the real you — the one underneath all of that. The one you avoid sitting with for too long.

Because if you did, you’d have to think about the past.

About the one you pushed away. The one who got too close. The one you really loved. The one who really loved you.

That’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?

It’s easier to say they were too much. Too emotional. Too confrontational. Too demanding.

Easier to convince yourself that leaving was logical. That it just “wasn’t right.” That it was 'bad timing.'

But it wasn't anything to do with timing.

And it wasn’t logic either.

It was fear.

I came into your life to highlight something.

Real love. Real closeness. Real intimacy.

And it freaked you out.

You couldn’t hold it.

No one had ever really tried to hold you emotionally before. No one had come close enough to truly see you — not the capable version, not the independent version, but the real you.

Real romantic love requires vulnerability. It requires honesty. It requires surrender. And you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t stay open. You couldn’t let yourself be fully seen. You couldn’t soften. You couldn’t surrender. You couldn't be vulnerable, you couldn't be honest.

So you did what you’ve always done.

You avoided.

And when I asked for normal relationship needs — closeness, communication, emotional presence — you called me the problem.

“Too confrontational.”

No. I asked for what healthy love requires.

You’ve avoided your whole life. More work. More purchases. More achievements. More distractions. More things to fill a gap that only real connection can fill.

But nothing fills it.

Not a car. Not a baby. Not status. Not achievements.

Because the gap isn’t about success.

It’s about intimacy.

Now you’ve built a life that looks stable, maybe even impressive (to some). But it’s half-love. A half-in relationship. Roommates instead of partners. Comfortable, but not deeply connected. Let's be honest - it's not really connected at all is it?

You call it comfort.

But it’s emotional distance.

You’ve created a space where your ego feels safe — but your heart isn’t truly fulfilled. And that's because I'm the ghost that haunts you. What we had, what you ran from, you can't outrun it anymore can you?

But here’s something else; something you won't want to believe.

I’m not back there anymore.

I don’t find push-pull attractive now. I don’t see running away, ghosting messages, or shutting down as strength. I see it as fear. As someone pretending to be happy with half of what they actually want.

You can’t fake it forever.

Eventually the truth catches up. In quiet moments. In regrets. In remorse. In memories of what you once had and couldn’t hold.

And this isn’t fair — not to yourself, to me, and not to the partner you’ve chosen.

Because you cannot fully give yourself to someone when your heart is still tied to someone else. When part of you knows you ran from something real. When you’re still avoiding your own truth.

They deserve someone who truly loves them.

Not someone emotionally divided. Not someone clinging to comfort while their heart is stuck in the past.

You didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I know that.

But you did.

And an apology is owed — even if it’s met with silence. Even if the love of your life has moved on. Even if nothing comes from it.

Your conscience won’t settle until you’re honest.

Honest with yourself. Honest with the person you hurt. Honest with the partner you’re half-showing up for.

You think you had a good childhood, don’t you?

Maybe you did physically. You had what you needed materially.

But were you emotionally held?

Were your feelings welcomed? Or were you told to be strong? To stop crying? To handle it alone? To 'do something to take your mind off it?', to 'go and kick a tree?'

You learned that emotions were weakness. That independence earned approval. That suppressing your needs made you lovable.

That protected you once.

Now it isolates you.

You are not broken. You are not incapable of real love...

But you are avoiding.

And at some point, you will have to choose:

Comfort… or real connection. Protection… or vulnerability. Half-love… or the courage to fully show up.

You cannot keep running forever.

It’s time to face yourself.