Naivety World

“Hey, it’s been a while.”

That’s where it all begins, the while. The while that creates space, the while that turns into months, then years, and eventually leaves a gap wide enough for misunderstandings, assumptions, and unspoken expectations. It’s the while that turns friends into strangers. Maybe not all, but most.

I have a friend, I suppose I could call him friend, who was so shocked when I released my book that he called me to express his shock and disappointment that I didn’t tell him personally. He also congratulated me. We talked for close to 30 minutes, and half the time I was explaining, justifying and apologizing for reasons I couldn’t quite understand. I had after all been sharing countless teasers on my socials. The cover of my book was even chosen through a poll on Instagram. He didn’t vote.

That conversation felt like a wakeup call. I started to see our friendship in a new light, or rather, in the harsh, unforgiving light of reality. I can remember what brought us together, and it wasn’t friendship, at least not one that could stand the test of time. After years of not talking, he called me one day, to wish me happy holidays. And so it seems, that’s how our friendship phase started, punctuated by nostalgic calls, remembering the young reckless days. After a while, our calls would leave me feeling a little drained and deflated.

We had become strangers, and I wasn’t willing to admit it. I would excuse his sometimes snarky comments about my growth and boundaries. It was as though he couldn’t see the present version of me, only the one I used to be. I suppose there are people who will always see you as a snapshot frozen in time. A grown, evolved version of you doesn’t make sense. Your growth challenges the comfort of their memories.

So, what do you do when you realize a friendship is stuck in a past that no longer exists? You have two choices: keep pretending that the friendship still works, or admit that it’s time to let go, which admittedly, isn’t easy. It comes with a certain guilt, the nagging feeling that you’re betraying years of shared moments. But sometimes, letting go is the kindest thing you can do for them, and for yourself. It isn’t about erasing the past, but about acknowledging that the version of you who needed that friendship no longer exists.

So, as much as I still care for him, I’ve had to accept that it’s time to let go. I accept the distance that has naturally grown between us. His chapter in my story has ended, just as mine has in his.

So, when another “Hey, it’s been a while” message pops up, I’ll take a moment to breathe and remind myself that it’s okay to let the conversation fade out naturally. I don’t owe explanations for my growth, and I don’t need to justify the boundaries I’ve set.

Because at the end of the day, friendship, like everything else, has its seasons. And it’s okay to look forward to new seasons that celebrate who you are now, and who you are becoming, rather than anchor you to who you used to be.