When Your Bestie Becomes a Stranger

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“I didn’t lose you like a lover. I lost you like a limb.” —attributed to Nayyirah Waheed

[How I interpreted this: There was no breakup playlist, no closure. Just… absence. & yet the physical pain can become disorienting. Because losing someone you have chosen; someone who knew your history & still stayed for the chapters after – that is not a clean page break. That is phantom pain. That is reaching out instinctively and feeling for a part of you but finding nothing where there used to be everything.]

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There is a specific kind of grief that does not come with a funeral or a goodbye. It just… fades. You go from high school besties who shared eyeliner & trauma, who tag-teamed bullies and whispered secrets at sleepovers, to second-place friends; slowly edged out by distance, mismatched growth, or worse, passive indifference.

Sabrina & I? We were once the kind of close you do not question. The kind of friendship where showing up was not a request; it was a given. We had years of shared history, chaos, inside jokes, & the kind of unconditional presence you swear will never shift. But over time, things started to feel off. Quieter. More… surface.

That silence spoke louder than anything she has said in months.

I opened up. Not dramatically. Not bitterly. Just honestly. I explained something tender: why touch; especially casual, uninvited touch; is complicated for me. That funerals, trauma, & years of my “no” being disregarded have rewired how I experience physical affection. I tried to be clear. Soft, but steady. I even gave context, examples. I was trying to be understood.

Her response? A joke. Then silence.

Read on May 18th.

I used to believe that if I explained my boundaries better, people would get it. That if I made my pain more palatable, they would stay. But the more I reclaim my voice, the more I realize this: not everyone wants the healed version of you. Some people only ever loved the version of you who stayed quiet, flinched without comment, & laughed along just to keep the peace.

& when you stop performing peace & start protecting it; they disappear.

I am not angry. I am sad. I am grounded. I am proud of how I handled it. I am not shrinking anymore to fit the shape of someone else’s comfort.

From ride-or-die to read receipts.

From fighting off bullies together… to realizing one of them just grew up and started dressing like a friend.

Xoxo ♡

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Reader Reflection Prompt:

Have you ever lost someone to your own healing?

Write about the moment you realized a friendship was no longer safe for you. What changed? What stayed the same? What parts of you were they only willing to love when it was easy? What would it look like to grieve that loss without blaming yourself?