How to Be Forgotten Gracefully

sometimes, letting go doesn’t happen with a bang.
it’s a slow fade-out, like your wifi signal dropping in the middle of a zoom call.
this is your faux guide to vanishing gracefully—because who says being forgotten can’t be an art form?

Step 1: Respond only in lowercase.

no punctuation. no enthusiasm. just the emotional range of a potato.
they’ll ask “are you okay?” and you’ll say “lol yeah”
every message reads like it was typed from beneath a blanket of emotional detachment.
you’re emotionally open the way a gas station bathroom is ‘open’—technically, yes, but no one’s excited to check.
eventually, people stop expecting depth. or joy. or… replies.
you become the human version of an autocorrect error.
forgettable. soft. lowercase

You’re basically elevator music now—heard, ignored, and emotionally skipped.

Step 2: Exit group chats like a ghost with commitment issues.

Don’t announce it. Just slowly react less.

Heart-react a meme 3 days late.

Laugh at a joke that’s clearly from 2 topics ago.

When they plan a hangout, respond with: “Sounds fun!”

—No follow-up. No RSVP. Just vibes.

Eventually, you’ll become that gray silhouette in the group photo of their lives.

A digital haunting. No one says it out loud, but they know:

You’ve entered your soft-launch disappearance phase.

Step 3: Say you're “taking a social media break.”

Then spend three hours doomscrolling in the dark.

They’ll think you’re healing.

But in reality, You’re not busy, you’re just watching YouTube and ghosting people while watching old Eat Bulaga clips and crying over Jollibee commercials.

Step 4: Be the designated picture-taker. Every time.
Smile warmly. Say “1, 2, 3!” like you're part of the fun.
Then quietly step out of frame like you're allergic to being remembered.
You’re not in the photo, but your legacy lives on in weird picture angles and half-blinked faces.
Your absence becomes your signature.
You were there. But only the picture will be remembered not the photo taker.

Step 5: Make vague statements like “I’ve just been… processing things.”

No one wants to follow up on that.

You might as well say you’ve joined a cult.

Which, honestly, might be less isolating. (sounds cooler and less lonely)

Step 6: Wear neutrals. Blend into walls.

Become the human version of background music in a coffee shop.

or be like that low-budget office plant—it is there, but nobody waters you.

You blend into walls so well, even your mother forgets you’re in the room
You’re the human version of a 5-peso kape—cheap, unassuming, but somehow necessary.

Step 7: When someone finally asks, “Wait… whatever happened to—what’s their name again?”

Smile like you just won the game of hide-and-seek called life.

You’re no longer a person; you’re a trivia question nobody remembers the answer to.

Congrats, you’re now the ghost story told awkwardly at reunions and awkward silences.

You’ve graduated from “friend” to “fun fact no one can place.”

And honestly? That’s peak invisibility..

so go ahead, perfect the vanish.

become the soft in the room’s background noise, the “who?” in the group chat.
forget not with regret, but with the quiet satisfaction of a job well ghosted.
after all, disappearing is just another way of being remembered… just less.