Why become a ghost (2 and final)

Everyone expects the strong to be strong, the kind to be kind, the smart to be smart. The same goes for people’s flaws as much as their strengths. That’s the gist of my previous post, and I’m picking up the thread here.

Our social networks provide a lot—enough to build a bubble that’s more or less stable, comfortable, and safe. The people we interact with set the soft limits of our social space, and we set theirs. The system works, and it has its perks.

But there’s a catch: we’re not free. No one’s stopping you from changing if you decide to, but shifting your social role means swimming against the current for a while. Every new change requires extra effort during the transition. In practice, it’s so draining that hardly anyone does it consistently—especially not if they want to keep friends, a job, clients, or good relationships with the people their daily life depends on.

But nobody expects anything from a ghost. It’s not just that you get a fresh start, a chance to tweak past patterns and project an image that feels more like you today. It’s that those new connections don’t even last long enough to solidify into new expectations.

A ghost exists outside this social system where people give you things in exchange for what you give them. But the true essence of being a ghost goes deeper: people don’t even get a clear sense of who you are. Your interactions never reach the point where others can pin a definition on you, assign you a space, or lock you into a cell in the prison. Being a ghost means having no identity—and that’s what makes you free.