Text Messages Go to My Phone to Die

I am the Queen of Unanswered Text Messages.

All hail...me.

Just...

Please don't text me about it.

Because I won't answer that text either.

It will simply join the thousands of others in what has become...

The Cemetery of Good Intentions.

I genuinely mean to answer every single message.

Really.

I do.

In fact...

I usually answer immediately.

In my head.

Then my brain proudly checks the task off as complete.

Conversation over.

Excellent work, everyone.

Except...

Nothing was ever actually sent.

This has happened so many times that I honestly don't trust my own memories anymore.

Someone will say,

"Did you get my text?"

And I'll confidently reply,

"Yep! I answered you."

Then I open my phone.

Read.

No reply.

Apparently I responded using telepathy.

The worst part?

I care.

Probably too much.

If I didn't like you...

I'd answer immediately.

Wait.

That came out wrong.

What I mean is...

The people I love most often get the longest delays.

Because I don't want to send a rushed response.

I want to really think about it.

Write something thoughtful.

Maybe ask how they're doing.

Maybe use the perfect emoji.

Maybe tell a funny story.

Then...

Life happens.

The dog needs out.

The phone rings.

I remember I left the laundry in the washer.

I walk into the kitchen.

Forget why I went into the kitchen.

Start making coffee.

Organize a junk drawer.

Research whether octopuses dream.

And somewhere in all of that...

Your text quietly slips into another dimension.

Sometimes my phone becomes so full of unread messages that opening it feels emotionally dangerous.

It's like walking into a room where everyone is disappointed in you.

Thirty-seven unread texts.

Six missed calls.

Four voicemails.

A partridge in a pear tree.

I don't even know where to begin.

So naturally...

I begin nowhere.

My favorite feature is when my phone politely reminds me.

"You haven't replied."

Thank you, tiny electronic guilt machine.

I was trying to ignore that.

Then there's the panic.

You finally remember.

Three days later.

Or three weeks later.

Sometimes three months later if we're being completely honest.

Now it's awkward.

Can I still answer?

Do I pretend it never happened?

Do I apologize?

Do I fake my own disappearance and move to another state?

These are the options my brain presents.

I've become an expert at writing apology texts.

"I'm so sorry! I thought I answered!"

Which, inconveniently...

...is true.

And can we please talk about group texts?

Who invented those?

I read every message.

I laugh.

I mentally contribute.

I think,

"I'll answer after I finish this one thing."

The next time I look...

There are 127 new messages.

The conversation has somehow moved from birthday plans to someone's cousin buying goats.

I have missed my window.

There is no catching up now.

Godspeed, everyone.

The really funny part?

If you text me,

"Can you send me that thing?"

It might take me four days.

But if you text,

"Emergency."

I'll answer before you've even finished typing.

That's because my problem has never been that I don't care.

It's that my brain has an unfortunate habit of confusing

"I need to respond..."

with

"I have already responded."

These days I've gotten better.

Not perfect.

But better.

Sometimes I answer immediately.

Sometimes I mark messages unread so Future Tracy sees them again.

Sometimes I set reminders.

Sometimes I still completely forget.

Progress, not perfection.

So if you're one of the wonderful people who has ever waited far too long for a reply from me...

Please know this.

It was never because you weren't important.

Quite the opposite.

You mattered enough that I wanted to give you a real response.

Unfortunately...

My ADHD filed that response under

"Already Handled."

It was not, in fact...

Already handled.

If you've texted me recently...

And you're suddenly wondering...

"Wait...is she talking about me?"

...

Maybe.

Go ahead and send it again.

There's a decent chance your original message is currently enjoying a peaceful retirement somewhere around message number 4,382.

Right next to the one I absolutely, definitely answered...

In my head.