It's been a long time my dear friend ........well back with a realistic story which can be related to n by everyone I hope u guys like it
Krish had a steady, almost magnetic presence in the text-based world of the old chat room. He was perpetually the quiet constant, the veteran handle @K who never logged off, the fixed server address from which everyone else launched their momentous digital and real-world journeys. He was a loner not because he was disliked, but because his connections were always, inevitably, ephemeral, fading into the abyss of deleted accounts and inactive usernames.
His first circle was a tight, brilliant trio: Krish, Riya , and Kunal They were the inseparable unit of the main , known for dominating debates in fun zone , sharing obscure music , and staying up until 4 AM simply watching the word count climb.
Riya, with her sharp wit and relentless typing speed, was the first to go. She used the communication skills honed in the chat to land a serious role as a technical writer, a world that demanded structured, long-form prose, not quick-fire banter. Krish remembered her farewell: a single, final line in the main channel, simple and decisive. "Going dark. Need to exchange the chatter for a real keyboard. GLHF." Krish sent back a *wave* emote that felt wholly inadequate. He watched her custom avatar vanish from the user list. Soon, Riya’s life was an exciting, professional success story, archived only in the backscroll of a channel she no longer visited. He was left watching the stream of new, fast-moving usernames replace her slot.
A year later, it was Kunal. Kunal was the steady, grounding guy —the one who always remembered to cherish and back up them . His departure was less sudden, more gradual, like a modem losing its signal. He met someone in the "real world," focused on his career, and admitted that the 24/7 noise of the chat room was becoming a distraction. "It's time to build a life, Krish," Kunal messaged privately. "I'm passing the keys over. Too much time spent here. I need to log off for good." Krish typed out a long protest, suggesting they could still lurk or join for an hour a week. But Kunal’s path was clear. When his handle was replaced by an anonymous default, Krish was left staring at the empty operator list. Kunal hadn't ghosted him, but he had progressed to a stage of life Krish felt rooted too deeply in the static text to reach.
Now, only Anushka remained. She was the quietest of all, a kindred spirit who preferred long, philosophical private messages to the chaotic main channel flood. She and Krish developed a pattern—Tuesday sessions dedicated to deep-diving obscure forums, Saturday crafting shared lore for imaginary worlds, conversations consisting mostly of comfortable asynchronous replies. Krish began to anchor himself to her, carefully, subconsciously. He felt, perhaps for the first time, that he had found a constant digital companion, someone whose steady presence would counterbalance his own fixed, unmoving position in the world wide web.
Then, the final, cryptic message arrived in his private window late one Thursday night: "The noise followed me here. I need absolute zero bandwidth." When Krish checked the roster, she was gone. Her account was deleted, her handle unclaimed, scrubbed from the internet like a faulty line of code. She hadn't just changed channels; she had performed a full digital disconnect.
Krish stared at the empty private message window. It was the same script, just a different platform. He was the constant server that provided a connection point for their moment, before they signed off and walked toward their new realities. He was the unmoving hub, and no one stays connected to the hub forever.
He took a deep breath. "I understand," he typed into the void of his private chat, the words practiced, worn smooth by repetition. He deleted the message before sending it, letting the silence be his final reply.
He sat back, surrounded by the silent glow of his monitors, the scent of stale coffee, and the constant, rapid scrolling of the main channel where thousands of temporary, meaningless words were being exchanged. Riya was thriving professionally. Kunal was building a family. Anushka had found her peace in digital silence.
And Krish? He was still here, the quiet, constant shore, the always-online friend. He was the one who remembered them all, the archive of their shared digital past. He was the loner, not by design, but because the universe had assigned him the role of the steadfast background, the fixed point from which everyone else’s story truly began. He logged out of the chat room, closed the terminal, and settled back into the deep, familiar comfort of his own solitude, knowing that for him, the greatest connection would always be to himself......... So the question is ......easily moveon n get surrounded to be left alone again....? Or be a loner though it hurts a bit n restrict around
Krish had a steady, almost magnetic presence in the text-based world of the old chat room. He was perpetually the quiet constant, the veteran handle @K who never logged off, the fixed server address from which everyone else launched their momentous digital and real-world journeys. He was a loner not because he was disliked, but because his connections were always, inevitably, ephemeral, fading into the abyss of deleted accounts and inactive usernames.
His first circle was a tight, brilliant trio: Krish, Riya , and Kunal They were the inseparable unit of the main , known for dominating debates in fun zone , sharing obscure music , and staying up until 4 AM simply watching the word count climb.
Riya, with her sharp wit and relentless typing speed, was the first to go. She used the communication skills honed in the chat to land a serious role as a technical writer, a world that demanded structured, long-form prose, not quick-fire banter. Krish remembered her farewell: a single, final line in the main channel, simple and decisive. "Going dark. Need to exchange the chatter for a real keyboard. GLHF." Krish sent back a *wave* emote that felt wholly inadequate. He watched her custom avatar vanish from the user list. Soon, Riya’s life was an exciting, professional success story, archived only in the backscroll of a channel she no longer visited. He was left watching the stream of new, fast-moving usernames replace her slot.
A year later, it was Kunal. Kunal was the steady, grounding guy —the one who always remembered to cherish and back up them . His departure was less sudden, more gradual, like a modem losing its signal. He met someone in the "real world," focused on his career, and admitted that the 24/7 noise of the chat room was becoming a distraction. "It's time to build a life, Krish," Kunal messaged privately. "I'm passing the keys over. Too much time spent here. I need to log off for good." Krish typed out a long protest, suggesting they could still lurk or join for an hour a week. But Kunal’s path was clear. When his handle was replaced by an anonymous default, Krish was left staring at the empty operator list. Kunal hadn't ghosted him, but he had progressed to a stage of life Krish felt rooted too deeply in the static text to reach.
Now, only Anushka remained. She was the quietest of all, a kindred spirit who preferred long, philosophical private messages to the chaotic main channel flood. She and Krish developed a pattern—Tuesday sessions dedicated to deep-diving obscure forums, Saturday crafting shared lore for imaginary worlds, conversations consisting mostly of comfortable asynchronous replies. Krish began to anchor himself to her, carefully, subconsciously. He felt, perhaps for the first time, that he had found a constant digital companion, someone whose steady presence would counterbalance his own fixed, unmoving position in the world wide web.
Then, the final, cryptic message arrived in his private window late one Thursday night: "The noise followed me here. I need absolute zero bandwidth." When Krish checked the roster, she was gone. Her account was deleted, her handle unclaimed, scrubbed from the internet like a faulty line of code. She hadn't just changed channels; she had performed a full digital disconnect.
Krish stared at the empty private message window. It was the same script, just a different platform. He was the constant server that provided a connection point for their moment, before they signed off and walked toward their new realities. He was the unmoving hub, and no one stays connected to the hub forever.
He took a deep breath. "I understand," he typed into the void of his private chat, the words practiced, worn smooth by repetition. He deleted the message before sending it, letting the silence be his final reply.
He sat back, surrounded by the silent glow of his monitors, the scent of stale coffee, and the constant, rapid scrolling of the main channel where thousands of temporary, meaningless words were being exchanged. Riya was thriving professionally. Kunal was building a family. Anushka had found her peace in digital silence.
And Krish? He was still here, the quiet, constant shore, the always-online friend. He was the one who remembered them all, the archive of their shared digital past. He was the loner, not by design, but because the universe had assigned him the role of the steadfast background, the fixed point from which everyone else’s story truly began. He logged out of the chat room, closed the terminal, and settled back into the deep, familiar comfort of his own solitude, knowing that for him, the greatest connection would always be to himself......... So the question is ......easily moveon n get surrounded to be left alone again....? Or be a loner though it hurts a bit n restrict around
