Women and the city

Nobody Warns You About Friendship Breakups

One day, somewhere in your twenties, you’ll look around and realize that the people who once knew everything about you… don’t know you anymore.

Not because you had a fight.

Not because someone did something unforgivable.

You simply became different people.

And somehow, that’s the hardest kind of goodbye.

When I was twenty-one, I was terrified of being alone.

I had three lifelong friends, but life was happening to all of us at the same time. University, jobs, relationships, family… everyone was building something.

So I did what I thought everyone was supposed to do.

I started collecting people.

Different friend groups.

Different worlds.

Different versions of myself.

I became friends with anyone who made loneliness a little quieter.

The problem was…

Most of those people weren’t looking for the same things I was.

They wanted another Friday night.

Another party.

Another excuse to get drunk.

I wanted purpose.

I wanted to build something that would still matter years later.

Back then, I didn’t know it, but that difference would quietly change my entire life.

My first year of university happened online.

I met people.

We talked.

We laughed.

We passed exams together.

But once the laptop closed…

So did most of those friendships.

Then someone convinced me to join the student association.

A few months later, I somehow became president.

To this day, I still don’t know who looked at twenty-one-year-old me and thought,

“Yeah… let’s give her responsibility.”

I’m glad they did.

That place changed everything.

For the first time, I wasn’t surrounded by people trying to kill time.

I was surrounded by people trying to create something.

We organized charity events.

Freshman balls.

Projects that made people smile.

We stayed awake until ridiculous hours trying to make impossible deadlines possible.

We weren’t just making events.

We were building memories.

We wanted people to remember that we had been there.

And they did.

But this isn’t really a story about the student club.

It’s about what happened after.

People left.

Some graduated.

Some moved away.

Some simply disappeared.

Others slowly became strangers without either of us noticing.

That’s the thing nobody tells you about your twenties.

Most friendships don’t end with a dramatic goodbye.

Sometimes the last conversation you have with someone feels completely ordinary.

You don’t know it’s the last one.

One day you stop sending memes.

Then birthdays become Instagram stories instead of phone calls.

Then you realize it’s been two years since you’ve seen each other.

Nobody leaves.

Life simply keeps walking.

I remember sitting alone one evening, scrolling through old photos.

There were birthdays.

Road trips.

Inside jokes I couldn’t even remember anymore.

People I genuinely believed would be sitting next to me at my wedding one day.

Today…

Some of them wouldn’t even recognize the woman I’ve become.

And maybe…

I wouldn’t recognize them either.

That realization used to break my heart.

Now it brings me peace.

Because somewhere between losing people and finding myself, I stopped measuring my life by how many friends I had.

I started measuring it by how safe I felt around the ones who stayed.

Today, if I look back, I have one friend from childhood.

Two from elementary school.

One from middle school.

One from high school.

A loud, slightly chaotic bunch from university.

That’s it.

And somehow…

I’ve never felt richer.

People often say university is where you meet friends for life.

Maybe.

For me, it was simply the first place where friendships became intentional.

Nobody stayed because we happened to share a classroom.

They stayed because, after getting to know each other, we chose each other anyway.

That’s a very different kind of friendship.

Sometimes I still sit by the window when it rains.

I think about everyone who used to be part of my everyday life.

I wonder where they are.

Whether they’re happy.

Whether they ever think about me too.

Nostalgia has a strange way of making absence feel heavier than it really is.

Then my best friend calls.

One of my university friends sends me another ridiculous meme.

Someone asks if we’re still having dinner on Thursday.

One of my cats decides my laptop is the perfect place to nap.

Life reminds me that empty spaces rarely stay empty forever.

They simply make room for better things.

Maybe that’s what growing up really is.

Not keeping everyone.

Learning that you were never supposed to.

Some people leave because they no longer belong in the life you’re building.

And that’s okay.

Because quality has always mattered more than quantity.

Not everyone is meant to stay in the life you’re building.

Until next time. ⚜️