I saw her story yesterday, laughing in a group of strangers. And it hit me:
When did we stop talking? When did friends become people I now hesitate to text?
Somewhere between first jobs and unread birthday messages, the people who once felt like home drifted away. No fights. No big drama. Just distance.
This blog isn’t a blame game, it’s a reflection on that quiet, inevitable shift that happens to many of us in our late 20s.
The Era of ‘Forever Friends’
In college, friendship felt like a given. You were never more than a room away, a walk across campus, or a message saying “chai?” from each other. Plans happened without planning. Birthdays were celebrated with cake from the nearest bakery or a Maggie cake and laughter that echoed through hostel halls.
We didn’t just share jokes, we shared versions of ourselves we hadn’t even fully grown into. We believed these bonds were untouchable. I believed.
We thought we’d always find time. That growing up wouldn’t grow us apart.
The Quiet Drift
But adulthood arrived quietly, like a thief that steals time.
First came jobs in different cities, time zones, industries.
Then came partners, families, responsibilities.
The group chat slowed.
Calls turned into texts.
Texts turned into “seen.”
Eventually, there was just silence.
No big fight. No betrayal.
Just a slow, steady fading, like watching the sun set and realizing it’s dark before you even notice.
Who Changed: Them or Me?
There were moments I blamed them:
“Why didn’t they check in?”
But then I looked at myself:
“When did I last ask how they really were?”
Adulthood doesn’t leave much room for chasing people. We are all just trying to stay afloat, pay bills, meet deadlines, protect our peace.
Sometimes friendships aren’t broken, they’re paused. Sometimes we don’t change, we evolve. And not everyone evolves in the same direction.
The Guilt That Lingers
I still feel a twinge of guilt when their birthday notification pops up and I haven’t spoken to them in a year.
I scroll through old photos and feel like I’m looking at a past life. I miss her. I miss us.
But maybe I also miss the version of me that existed when we were close. The carefree, chaotic, broke-but-happy version. That person doesn’t exist anymore either. And maybe that’s okay.
Letting Go Without Resentment
I’ve learned not every friend is meant to stay forever. Some were there for a season, a reason, or a phase.
It doesn’t make the bond any less real.
It doesn’t mean I love them any less.
It just means we’ve turned different pages.
And I’ve also learned to cherish the ones who stayed. The ones who grew with me. Who understood the silences and didn’t hold them against me. Who reached out anyway.
A Gentle Reminder (for You and Me)
If you’re reading this and thinking of someone, you’re not alone.
And maybe, if it feels right, you could send that message.
Or maybe, you can simply smile at the memory and move forward.
Not all friendships end with goodbyes.
Some just fade into a quiet respect for what once was.
And that, too, is a kind of love.
Have you ever felt this too?
Drop a comment, or share this post with someone you haven’t spoken to in a while, you never know what a message could rekindle.
