friendship, the only way i know how

Friendship, to me, has never been something that was simple to define. I romanticize it, twist it into something almost sacred, and hold it too tightly. Friendship should be everything—family, love, loyalty, and companionship rolled into one. And because of that, I don’t know how to tread lightly. I don’t know how to give just enough or expect the bare minimum. When I let someone in, I open every door, hand over every key, and wait, hoping they’ll do the same.

I’ll notice the smallest things that might piss me off—a tone of voice, a forgotten text, a moment where it feels like you didn’t prioritize me. I’ll feel it deeply, and I’ll stew in that feeling for days. But I won’t tell you. I’ll sit with it, overthinking every angle, convincing myself that I’m just being dramatic. I’ll eventually make terms with whatever happened, rationalize it in my head, and act like nothing’s wrong. You might never know I was hurt in the first place, because even at my most frustrated, I care too much to let it push you away.

It's not my friends' fault that I feel so deeply, that every small shift in energy or response lingers in my mind longer than it should. It’s not their fault that I notice when the enthusiasm in a conversation isn’t matched, or when I feel like I’m giving more than I’m getting. But that doesn’t stop it from affecting me. Every time it happens, it feels like a wave crashing over me—big, overwhelming, something I have to sit with before I can let it go. It always takes me a few days to cope, to untangle the feeling from reality, to remind myself that just because someone doesn’t show love the way I do doesn’t mean they don’t care. Still, in those moments, it feels personal, and no matter how much I try to rationalize it, the emotions demand to be felt before they can fade.

There will also be days when I go completely quiet. Not because I don’t love you, but because I need to recharge. Friendship, to me, is a full-body effort, and sometimes I run out of energy to give. I’ll retreat into myself for a few days, maybe even weeks, needing space to refuel my mind and soul. But I’ll always come back. I’ll never leave you hanging indefinitely, and when I return, I’ll pick up where we left off like no time has passed.

Still, I will be the best friend you’ll ever have. I will care for you in ways that are relentless and unwavering. I’ll celebrate your victories louder than you do and sit with you in your darkest moments without judgment. I’ll remember the tiny details. I’ll fight for you, with you, and sometimes even against you if it means helping you see what you can’t.

I’m flawed, yes. But my love for my friends is fierce and raw and unfiltered. If you can handle my chaos, I promise I’ll make you feel like you’re never alone.

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