hiiii. i genuinely don’t know how creators here win the hearts of their audience by being sweet and bubbly and effortlessly consistent. while it kind of sucks, i am just… me. slightly boring. slightly sophisticated. slightly allergic to performative charm. okay.

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i know i should account for my absence over the past few weeks. i know there should be a neat explanation. a dramatic comeback story. a soft apology wrapped in glitter. but i don’t even know where to start from. life happened. internally and externally. quietly and loudly at the same time. i hope someone sees this and understands that my silence was never indifference. it was just me trying to stay afloat without narrating every wave.

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i just finished reading two articles. one by Lorie♡♥︎ and another by The Quill . they are the perfect definition of two sides of a coin. and here i am, about to pen my own thoughts as well.

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i don't even know where to start from but i want to say that it hurts so much. reading miracle's “my friends think too much of me.” made me realise and see clearly that i should stop pretending it doesn’t hurt so much seeing people distance themselves from me without my knowing. they happen quietly. no fight. no argument. no confrontation. they simply withdraw. i always want to reach out to know why. i want to know why they chose to do that to me. i replay conversations in my head. i try to re-read messages to check for the moment things shifted. maybe because most times i am emotionally unavailable? maybe i missed something small that meant something big to them.

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my friends don’t reach out to me anymore. and when i do, i notice how they give me just enough reply to end the conversation, not enough to continue it. the responses feel polite, measured, almost like they just want me to go away. like they are waiting for the interaction to close. i still try to reach out whenever i can, hoping they’d see that i am trustworthy. hoping consistency would prove something words cannot. i apologise if i have to, even when i am not fully sure what i am apologising for. yet they don’t forgive me. or worse, they don’t even tell me what i did wrong in the first place. they just change.

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i am not the type of friend that yells your name across the hall so i can get your attention. i would just pass by if you didn't make eye contacts with me. someone once told me i should try to fight for my space in someone's life too but i don’t know how to compete for space. it has something to do with my childhood and i know i should try to fight it yet the moment something is off, i back off. i am not the kind of friend that pretends to support what you do if it goes against what i believe or if it simply isn’t my thing. i won’t fake enthusiasm just to keep peace. i am not the type to send long voice notes or talk endlessly about my life or what went wrong in my day, talk less of doing that with strangers. vulnerability does not come easy to me. sometimes, i disappear and come back with little to no explanation because i needed to regulate myself. because i needed silence. because i didn’t want to show up half-formed and bleeding.

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i am not the kind of friend that depends on you for anything. in fact, i don't share what i am going through except i say i am fine. i would rather struggle quietly and figure it out myself. i am not the type who replies texts in time (i think my whatsapp read receipt being off has contributed greatly to this) or stay on voice calls for hours, gisting and updating each other on how we’ve changed. sometimes, that kind of closeness overwhelms me. i am the type that replies to messages late. it's not like i don’t care, i just get so stuck trying to be productive and sorting through my emotions before i even think of trying to show up for you too. i don’t like responding halfway. i don’t like showing up when i feel disoriented.

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i am the type of friend that forgets to wish you on your birthday even when i remembered just the day before. i am the type of friend that you can't depend on to uphold a long distance friendship. i am the type of friend that will tell you to your face that you did something i didn’t like. not to hurt you, but because i believe honesty is better than silent resentment. i am the type that would rather let you go when i sense the energy is off than fight hard to force something that feels unnatural. sometimes i wonder if that makes me look detached. sometimes i wonder if staying would have changed anything.

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occasionally, when i do send those long messages or voice notes to express my love, i can’t handle the emotional catharsis that comes after. it feels like i’ve exposed too much. like i’ve handed over something fragile. yet i also can’t handle you ignoring what i said like it meant nothing. that silence after vulnerability feels louder than any argument. i am the kind of friend that still cares enough to like your updates even if we don’t talk much. i notice your wins. i remember your important days. i may not comment, but i am present in my own quiet way.

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someone did something lately that really hurt me. actually, a lot of people have been. but this particular friend — i posted something. she saw my status and viewed it silently. yet when my sister reposted the exact same thing, she engaged with it. i don’t think i was seeking validation from her. but when i checked prior interactions, the energy had already been off. it wasn’t about the post. it was about the pattern. the subtle shift. the quiet preference.

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another friend was sick and even had surgery. she must have been having a hard time. i tried to be understanding. anytime i reached out, though, i noticed the attitude in her messages. short. distant. almost irritated. i blamed myself. maybe i was overthinking. maybe she was just tired. but one day, when i voiced out how it made me feel, she told me what was wrong. and i realised how long i had been having the confusion alone. this same person used to send me endless reels on instagram which i rarely replied to. i would just view, laugh, or like them. maybe that silence translated differently on her end. maybe what feels sufficient to me feels neglectful to someone else. maybe i underestimate how much small responses mean to people.

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lately, i watch as my instagram following keeps dropping considerably. and while that shouldn't hurt, it does. because it's not strangers that are doing that. it's the people i used to share my world with. most of these people i call friends ghost me whenever i need their help, yet i never fail to render mine. i show up. i send the money. i make the call. i write the reference. i offer the advice. i make the effort. but when it is my turn, the energy shifts. i stopped helping when i realised some of it felt transactional. like my usefulness was appreciated more than my presence.

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i just want someone in my life who genuinely cares. someone who would have my back the way i have theirs. not loudly. not performatively. just consistently. someone who doesn’t measure closeness by how often i text all day or send voice notes every two days. someone who understands that silence is not always absence. someone who will listen to me the way i listen when they need help. someone who wouldn’t reduce our interaction to a transaction whenever i show up for them.

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someone who wouldn’t send broadcast messages and ignore my other texts. someone who would understand that my absence isn’t a measure of their worth. that sometimes i am just overwhelmed. or healing. or building. someone who wouldn’t ignore my achievements or fail to congratulate me, even if we haven’t talked in months — because i would do that for them without hesitation.

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someone who would see me for who i am and forgive my mistakes the way i forgive theirs. someone who would ask instead of assume. someone who would say “you’ve been distant, is everything okay?” instead of silently adjusting their loyalty. someone who understands that people like me exist. we don’t hate you. we are not indifferent. we are not arrogant. we are not basking in the silence. we simply overthink how to show up and don’t always know how to exist in our own bubble while showing up in the way the world has defined friendship.

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but i’m quite intentional about my friendships. or at least, i want to be. i don’t enter friendships carelessly. i observe and stay because i mean it. and i don’t take pride in being emotionally unavailable. it’s nothing cute to me. it’s not a personality quirk i celebrate. and i don’t even like hiding behind the phrase “i’m not a texting person.” i actually dislike that phrase more than you probably do. it feels dismissive. it feels lazy. i’ve tried to search for a word that explains it better, but maybe it doesn’t need one. sometimes things like that become safe houses for behaviour we should examine. sometimes they turn into soft excuses that protect us from change.

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in “are we running mad?”, lorie wrote about how our generation sometimes hides behind language — how we rename inconsistency, avoidance, or lateness with psychological terminology so it sounds less like responsibility and more like identity. she argued that instead of saying “i forgot” or “i didn’t want to,” we sometimes cushion it with complex labels. and i understand what she means. i really do. accountability matters. clarity matters. humility matters. in fact, i wish to speak about this in another newsletter.

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but i also think there is something she didn't mention. because while some people may misuse words like that to excuse poor behaviour, there are others who genuinely struggle. people battling anxiety, adhd, depression, and even emotional dysregulation. people who are not romanticising inconsistency but are fighting through it everyday. and sometimes when we reduce everything to “just say you forgot,” we risk undermining the weight of what some people are actually carrying.

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not every explanation is an excuse. not every struggle is avoidance dressed up. not every inconsistency is rebellion against accountability. some of us are trying. some of us are genuinely overwhelmed. some of us are learning emotional regulation later than others. some of us are unlearning survival patterns that made silence feel safer than expression. i believe in responsibility. i believe in saying “i’m sorry, i forgot.” i believe in saying “i was wrong.” but i also believe in leaving room for complexity. because human beings are not binary. we are not either careless or accountable. sometimes we are accountable and struggling at the same time.

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i want to say that i love my friends, both offline and online, so much. deeply and intentionally. but i struggle to keep up with my life and theirs at the same time. i am constantly trying to stay afloat in my own responsibilities, my own growth, and my own internal processing. and sometimes, when i finally show up, i realise days have passed. conversations have moved on. life has continued without me. i don't blame them. i just hope they create space for people like me as well. it makes me sound selfish because i am asking for something i cannot guarantee i can give. but this is me. i am not detached. i am just often overwhelmed, fighting my own demons. i don't have it all figured out like most of you do. i try in my own way to always want to be a better friend. by observing what other people do, getting attuned to what my friends want. but it's never enough— by the almighty standard for friendships. i am intentional about my friendships. i just don’t always express it in the loud, constant, socially expected ways. my love is steady, but it is quiet. my care is consistent, but it is not always visible. i pray for my friends…

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but sometimes being the friend who is “supposed to have her life together” or distant is exhausting. i over-function because i under-communicate yet wonder why people often assume i am always fine. the one who is productive. the one who seems stable. the one who will figure it out. it’s a heavy responsibility. it’s not like i have a choice. it’s either i have my life in order or i do, in fact, have my life in order. there is no visible margin for me to fall apart publicly. so i manage.

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—hikmah

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