Dear Former Me- Friendship Grief

Dear Former Me,

You didn’t imagine it.

That connection was real.

And even if it was just a friendship—just someone who saw you and showed up—it still mattered. It still hurts.

You didn’t expect to miss them this much, did you?

It wasn’t about romance. It never had to be.

It was about the way you laughed without trying.

How they showed up to Poetry Night with you, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

How you could sit next to them in silence and still feel like you were being held.

Not with hands.

With presence.

With that steady, quiet way they had of being around you that made you feel like you didn’t have to prove anything to be valued.

You didn’t lose a partner.

You lost your person.

Or at least, someone who felt like one—for a season.

You thought, maybe for once, the story didn’t need a plot twist.

Maybe this one would stay simple. Kind. Consistent.

Maybe this was a friendship you could keep.

But then it changed.

Not all at once, but enough that you noticed.

The way the replies got slower.

The way the warmth dimmed.

The way you were left wondering if you said too much, or not enough.

You’re sitting here now, retracing it all, trying to find the moment the air shifted.

But maybe there isn’t one.

Maybe some friendships don’t end loudly—they just… evaporate.

And that’s its own kind of grief.

You keep saying it was “just” a friendship.

But the way you felt after? That silence didn’t feel small.

You felt it in your body.

In your stomach.

In the space where laughter used to echo.

You didn’t ask for anything more than what you gave.

And still, it feels like too much was left unsaid.

Like no one warned you that missing a friend could ache like this.

But here’s what I want you to remember:

It’s not embarrassing to miss someone who made you feel safe.

It’s not dramatic to mourn what felt like home.

You are allowed to miss the version of yourself that felt held in that friendship.

And it’s okay to still wish things were different.

But don’t let this loss make you smaller.

Don’t start holding back your care, your presence, your softness.

The world needs more people who show up the way you did.

They knew you.

Even if they forgot how rare that was.

And if nothing else—you’ll remember.

You’ll remember what it felt like to be met in your fullness.

And that memory will shape how you let the next person in.

With grace,

Evelyn