Friendship, Expectations, and Heartbreak

I am not boasting about myself, but I am a people person. I thrive in the company of people. Conversations energize me, laughter nourishes me, and if I don’t have people around to talk to, I slowly retreat into a shell. 

In my 40 years of existence, I have been blessed with countless friendships. Some stayed for a season, some for decades. Some quietly disappeared, while social media helped rekindle a few that had long faded into memory.

As we move through different stages of life, we naturally gravitate towards people who match our wavelength, our values, and yes, even our particular brand of कमीनापन.

But something else happens as we grow older.

The circle gets smaller.

The people inside it become fewer, but infinitely more precious.

Your inner sanctum slowly fills with those rare souls who have witnessed your triumphs and breakdowns, celebrated your victories, and sat beside you through your storms. They become emotional landmarks in your life. You begin to assume they will always be there—that they have earned permanent residency in your heart and that you have earned the same in theirs.

Friendships like these seem to have the half-life of uranium.

Or so we believe.

And then one day, you discover that while they may occupy a sacred place in your sanctum, you may not occupy the same place in theirs.

Bam.

Heartbreak.

Not the dramatic kind written about in novels. The quieter kind.

The kind that arrives without warning.

The kind that makes you question every conversation, every shared memory, every assumption you unknowingly built your emotional home upon.

Was it expectation?

Was it attachment?

Was it the burden of placing permanence on something that was only meant to accompany us for a chapter?

I still don’t know.

What I do know is that life has taught me one uncomfortable truth: very little is permanent.

People change.

Priorities change.

Distances grow.

Lives diverge.

And sometimes, even friendships come with an expiry date.

But perhaps that doesn’t diminish their value.

Perhaps friendship was never meant to be measured by its duration, but by its impact.

By the laughter it gave us.

By the tears it helped us survive.

By the version of ourselves that existed because someone walked beside us for a while.

So here’s raising a toast to all my friends—those who stayed, those who drifted away, and those who may someday return.

Thank you for being part of my story.

And for those still walking alongside me, let’s continue to see each other through the thick and thin, the ordinary and extraordinary, for however long our paths remain intertwined.

Because maybe friendship isn’t about forever.

Maybe it’s about being there when forever feels too hard to carry alone. ❤️