Breakups.

They come in all shapes and sizes; but perhaps none hits harder than when you lose a close friend. Or worse still, friends. 

Lately, I’ve been haunted by these ghosts of friendships past. They’ve not been triggered by any single event; just the normal ebb and flow of life. You see people laughing together, enjoying a good chinwag, and suddenly, those long-shut memory doors creak open. It’s a reminder of what was, and I guess, what’s lost. That, and maybe the fact that I’ve not been a great headspace recently. (But more on that another day.)

Romantic breakups are definitely tough. But the thing about romantic relationships is that we always know deep down that there is a chance – no matter how infinitesimally small – that the ‘vibes’ could fade over time. Even the most hardcore romantic knows that heartbreak is a possibility. But we dive in anyway. Because, in the words of a certain Mr. Lennon, to paraphrase – “All we really need is love.”

But a friendship breakup?  It feels a bit more surreal. Kind of like losing your co-pilot mid-flight, and being expected to just keep flying the plane. But you don’t know how, and there’s no emergency landing procedure for this kind of turbulence. 

I don’t think we really talk enough about breaking up with or losing a friend. 

Maybe it’s because, as children, we’re often told that ‘friends come and go’. (I mean, so do romantic relationships, but no one ever tells you that). We’re left believing that there’s always more time to make new friends. So it rarely feels like that big a deal when you’re really young.

Or maybe, it’s because certain friendships have this rather strange ‘immortality’ complex about them.

Some friendships feel like those indestructible houseplants that you ‘forget to water’, yet somehow, they still linger, clinging to life and even thriving.  You expect them to last forever.

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Until they don’t.

When you lose a friend, it’s like losing a piece of your inner circle’s puzzle. One day, all the pieces fit perfectly. And the next, you’re left staring at a gap that used to be filled with inside jokes, shared secrets and the understanding of unspoken words. Suddenly you’re sat in a pub that you used to hang out at, sipping your beer alone – the taste feeling a lot bitter without the familiar banter echoing against the clink of the glass. 

It’s not just sadness ,though. It’s a confusing mix of anger, betrayal, and a hollow ache in the place they used to occupy in your life. 

And yes, no matter what the others say. It hurts.

But perhaps the toughest part of losing a friend is the lack of a social script. As a society, we have a playbook for handling romantic breakups. It’s not perfect, and yes, very much, we all know that ‘one size fits all’ is never going to work when emotions are involved. But there’s a general set of steps. An established decorum, if you will. Friends and family rally; there’s an expectation of sadness; some sympathy – and maybe some ice cream (insert your food or drink choice of preference) and even a sad playlist.

But with friendships, there are no rituals like returning (on in some cases, burning!) their belongings, or changing a status on social media to signal the end. These breakups are often quieter, and there’s no closure. No ‘having the talk’. No final arguments, and often no definitive ending. Just a realisation that texts have dwindled, invites have stopped and that you’re no longer in sync.

As an adult, the world expects you to shrug it off, find a new one, and move on. But it’s never that simple, is it? These are the breakups that quietly gnaw at you. Because, who do you confide in about losing your confidant(e)?

And I suppose that’s the ‘elephant in the room’ – the acceptance. Of the end. Of the fact that something that good could come to such an unceremonious end. In a way, it’s like a small death, the severing of a lifeline that you didn’t even know you were hanging on to. 

You think of them in your old hangouts, hear ‘the silly laughter’ when you see something funny. And a piece of you crumbles. Because we like to think that friendships are built to last, founded on shared histories and unconditional support. The realisation that they can end so unceremoniously can shake our sense of reality. 

As I said, friendship breakups are messy, irrational. And it HURTS. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. 

But as painful as these can be, like any other relationship, they’re a rite of passage. An uncomfortable, but necessary reminder that even the strongest bonds can fray. But we learn. We grow. And yes, maybe we come a little more guarded, a bit more selective. And who knows, maybe we’ll even emerge from this wreckage with a newfound appreciation for those who stick around.

After all, as the wise philosopher Beyoncé once said (again paraphrasing it!) – “If you like it, then you should have put a friendship band on it.“

So, to all the friends I’ve lost before – I’m sorry. Wherever you are, I hope you find the closure in the laugher we shared and the peace you deserve.

To the ones who stayed, I know it’s not been a perfect ride, and there are times where I’ve certainly not been the best friend I could have been. But thank you for being there. I’ll try better.