in those quiet moments

this is going to be a really short post, it is more like a morning thought that I felt like sharing here.

I grew up having a lot of friends — some from school, some from the internet. The ones I used to spend nights with on Skype or Yahoo Messenger are now just people I follow from afar on Instagram. Sometimes even from the tuition or extra classes I took outside of school. I remember inviting 30-40 people every year for my Eid open house.

Now, it’s funny — how someone who once defined how you spend your evening becomes just a familiar name on your feed. You scroll past their instagram posts, wedding announcements, becoming parents and a part of you remembers the younger version of them — the one who stayed up till 3 a.m. chatting about nonsense, love and breakups. (~cringing)

Over time, I realized that only the friendships that truly matter — the ones that continue to feel relevant — manage to stay. And that list is much smaller than it used to be. But how or when did that happen?

The truth is, friendships take effort. Real effort. They demand your time, your mental space, your emotional energy. Some days, my friends annoy me so much that I want to just curse at them — but I don’t. Because I know they’ve done the same for me: chosen patience on days when I wasn’t exactly easy to deal with.

That’s what friendship often comes down to — the quiet choice to hold back, to be kind, to let the little things slide. It’s less about “being the bigger person” and more about choosing peace, choosing the relationship over being right. And maybe that’s why the list of people who stay gets smaller with time: not everyone is willing, or able, to keep making that choice.

But — what happens when that choice isn’t made on both sides?

Have you ever had your heart broken by a friendship? It’s not the kind of heartbreak people talk about, but it cuts just as deep.

And trust me, you don’t want that — and I’ll tell you why.

I lost a significant friend, and even now, it still lingers in my heart. We never fought. We just… drifted apart. If you asked me “What happened?” — I don’t have a definite answer for you. Nothing really happened. I can’t point to a single event that caused it. And yet — it happened. Nothing in life ever prepared me for this, for someone who is so significant to simply….be gone.

Who would have thought that we could missed each other’s big day? Now she’s married and has a baby I once dreamed of carrying in my arms. It is so strange how my life just continues, but yet some memories of her stay so clear in my mind. Every year, my birthday reminds me of her — the last time I saw her was on that day, eight years ago. But if you ask me:

Am I angry? yes

Do I hate her? yes

Did I unfollowed her on instagram? embarrassingly, yes (shame on me for this immature behavior).

Do I quietly stalk her still? you’ve gone too far — stop asking, but yes

I often wonder if she ever thinks of me as much as I think of her. A lot has changed in my life, but she is still there — significant, in her absence. It’s a quiet kind of ache, knowing that someone who once meant so much can now feel so far away. Even to this day, it still feels heavy on my heart. And maybe that’s what friendship really is: not just the people who stay, but also the ones who leave and still leave a mark on you, years later. (~if its true, then it sucks, I want to be a cow, mooooo).

But in all seriousness — do I still hope that someday she comes back? BIG YES

and….if she ever decide to come back, I’d want her to know that I’d welcome her wholeheartedly — probably with dramatic tears falling. But then….if she really did come back,

where would we even start?

Pick up where we left off, or continue with our lives, only this time, better with each other?

turns out it wasn’t really a short post… somebody call the police, she’s a liar