On losing friends
I recently thought I lost a friend just like that. They vanished for a while, and I told myself maybe that’s it — maybe this is one of those disappearances I just have to accept and respect. I felt the ache of it. The emptiness. The grief that comes with someone who once knew you well just… not being there anymore without an explanation. But they came back eventually and I understoof. And even though I was relieved, I have been thinking a lot on the pain of losing adult friends.
Some friendships fade slowly, almost naturally. You drift apart, and it hurts a little, especially when the memories hit, but it makes sense. You change, they change, life gets louder, time gets shorter. Those kinds of losses feel like something inevitable, maybe even gentle.
But then there is the other kind. The sudden ones . And they don’t fade. They tear. They leave a bruise that stays. When a friend just disappears, or ghosts you for no reason obvious to you, or when something breaks and you both know it’s over. That’s the kind of loss that doesn’t settle in. It leaves you restless. You keep replaying everything, trying to understand. What happened? Did I do something? Was there a sign I missed?
And then there are the times when you are the one who has to end it, when you realize a friendship is hurting you, draining you, or becoming something it shouldn’t. Those are awful too. Because even when you explain, even when you try to do it gently and clearly, it still bleeds. You still think of them. You still remember the good things. You still hope they understood your reasons. And, you know, I think if you ever have to end a friendship, you should explain. Always. Even if it’s hard. Ghosting isn’t protection, it’s plain cruelty.
The worst part is how it rewires your sense of trust. You start holding back. You stop saying too much. You begin to question the stability of all your connections. Even the good ones. Because once you’ve experienced a friendship ending without closure, some part of you starts expecting it to happen again and you start becoming a person you never wanted to be.
Maybe that’s what growing up does? It doesn’t make friendship less important, just more fragile? You realize how rare it is to find someone who really stays. And when someone leaves suddenly, you lose a version of yourself that existed with them. And maybe you liked that version. But I don’t want to become like that. I don’t want to turn into someone who avoids closeness just because it can hurt, or who keeps everything surface-level to stay safe. Even if it means I get hurt again, I still want to care deeply, to love my friends. Because the alternative is not feeling at all, and what’s human about that?
