Date: April 22, 2025
Author: Jenna Morales
I’ve become really good at pretending I’m busy. Like, Oscar-worthy levels of “Sorry, I’ve just got so much going on right now” kind of busy. I throw out phrases like “swamped with work” or “completely wiped out from everything lately” with such ease that even I start to believe it sometimes. But here’s the truth: I’m not. I’m not busy. I’m not overwhelmed with some huge deadline. I’m not secretly working on a passion project or hustling on the side.
I’m just… hiding.
I don’t even know when it started, this slow drifting away from everyone. Maybe it was gradual, like fog creeping in until one day I couldn’t even see the people who used to be right next to me. Or maybe it was a string of little disappointments—conversations where I felt invisible, hangouts where I came home feeling lonelier than when I left. Somewhere along the way, being around people started to feel like a performance I couldn’t keep up anymore.
It’s not that I don’t care about my friends or family. I really do. I miss them, sometimes. I think about the inside jokes and the easy laughs and the long nights talking about everything and nothing. But even those memories come with this weight now, this exhaustion that sits on my chest when I imagine trying to recreate them. It’s like I don’t have the energy to be a person around other people. Being social feels like a job I didn’t apply for.
And yeah, I feel guilty. I feel fake when I say I can’t make it to a dinner or that I need a rain check for the third time in a row. I see the disappointment in their messages—even when they say it’s okay, I can feel it. I know I’m letting people down. But what am I supposed to say? That I don’t want to come because I’m tired of being around anyone? That I only feel like myself when I’m alone in my room with the door closed and the world on mute?
I don’t think they’d understand. Not really. So I lie. Not in a malicious way. Just in a “please don’t ask me to explain myself again” kind of way. It’s easier to say I’m tired than to say I feel like I’m disappearing in front of everyone and no one notices.
I don’t know how long I’ll keep doing this. Part of me wonders if I’ll reach some breaking point—if one day, someone will stop reaching out, and I’ll realize I’ve pushed everyone too far. But for now, pretending to be busy is the only way I know how to protect the small piece of peace I have left.
It’s not perfect. But it’s mine.
