Flammable Closure: Because "Wishing You the Best" Isn’t Always Honest

There are breakups.
And then there are breakaways.

You know the difference. One is a mutual, civil text exchange about “timing” and “growth.” The other is the quiet moment you stare at your phone mid-conversation, realize you feel absolutely nothing, and delete the thread without saying goodbye.

This is about the second kind.

We’re told to keep things tidy. Wrap endings in polite bows. Smile through resentment. Stay in the job for the résumé. Stay in the friendship because of the history. Stay in the situationship in case they magically evolve into someone with communication skills.

But sometimes the most honest thing you can do is leave without editing yourself.

No More Exits in Disguise

The friend you always comforted but never heard from when your life fell apart? You left that brunch and never texted again.

The job where you were congratulated for overworking but never promoted? You walked out at lunch and didn’t come back.

The almost-lover who texted you "u up?" after two weeks of silence? You read it, laughed, blocked them, and went to sleep.

No closure. No drama. Just self-respect that finally got louder than your fear of being “too much.”

Why You Feel Like You Need Permission to Leave

You were probably taught that good people don’t leave. That it’s noble to stick it out. That walking away without a PowerPoint presentation of your reasons is immature.

But here’s what actually happens when you overstay:

• You start ghosting yourself

• You shrink into roles you never chose

• You perform connection instead of feeling it

• You become resentful, bitter, and exhausted—and then blame yourself for it

Staying isn’t always virtuous. Sometimes, it’s just self-abandonment with better optics.

When You Finally Go

It never looks how you thought it would.

You don’t rage-quit. You don’t throw a dramatic speech into the void. You just... stop. Responding. Explaining. Showing up.
You leave the group chat. You don’t RSVP. You send your two-week notice and turn off Slack before anyone reacts.

It’s not cold. It’s not cruel. It’s the quietest kind of healing.

And maybe—just maybe—you light a metaphorical cigarette on the way out. Not because you’re broken, but because you’re free.

The Truth About Burning Bridges

People will call it harsh.
You’ll be accused of being distant, unpredictable, fake, heartless.

Let them.

Let them talk about how suddenly you changed, how you “used to be so nice,” how you “didn’t even say goodbye.”

What they won’t admit is they saw it coming. They just didn’t expect you to follow through.

You didn’t change—you just stopped tolerating your own silence.

Final Note

You’re not here to be digestible. Or endlessly available. Or palatable in your pain.

You’re allowed to walk away without softening the blow for the person who gave you nothing but splinters.

Burn it. And if you feel like it, light a cigarette with it on the way out.

Because clarity isn’t cruelty. And peace has always been worth the fire.