Halfway Somewhere

Dear Reader,

I initially started writing this post a few months back but never found the motivation to finish it. Last night, I met this wonderful person through a close friend. She also happens to have a passion for writing. We were talking about a writing workshop she had attended, and I told her about how I never completed the post I had started. She shared something along the lines of: if you say writing is your passion, yet you don’t find even 30 minutes in your day to give to it, is it really your passion?
That stayed with me. It helped me finish this post the very next day.

When I first started writing, it was a rainy October day. Now, as I’m finishing it, today happens to be the first snowfall of winter. My neighborhood looks like a winter wonderland with all the Christmas decorations. I’m not a fan of winter, but I’m definitely a sucker for a good snow.

I’m sitting in the same café I was sitting in back then, finally finishing a post about a topic I’ve thought a lot about over the past several months – friendship.

I remember the very first time I made a friend at school. I was probably eight or nine years old, which feels rather late, but because I was born during a period of civil unrest, my family moved frequently. I wasn’t part of an institution like school or daycare where friendships naturally form, so before that, I didn’t really know what a friend was or what kind of relationship you build with one.

Then I met this girl around my age. We sat next to each other in class, discovered we lived in the same neighborhood, and just like that, we became best friends. We shared snacks, exchanged homework, and walked home together every day. For the next six years, we did almost everything together – studied for exams, spent afternoons at each other’s houses, and grew up side by side.
We aren’t best friends anymore, but when we meet, the memories are still there. We wish each other nothing but the best, and that, to me, still counts as friendship.

Looking back, it feels like friendships come so easily when you’re young. You don’t know what you want from them, and maybe because there are no expectations, they feel effortless and comfortable. Those early friendships are often the most genuine – they know you in ways even family sometimes doesn’t.

As you grow older, making and keeping friends becomes harder. You become more selective, your personality evolves, and so do your expectations. Sometimes friendships drift because worldviews change. Other times, romantic relationships take priority, or life simply moves people in different directions – jobs change, people immigrate, distance grows. Drifting apart, I’ve learned, is one of the most natural ways relationships fade. It doesn’t mean what you shared wasn’t real; it just means that person fit perfectly into the chapter you were in at the time.

As an adult, I’ve become much more aware of energy in friendships. Over the years, I’ve realized that spending time with certain people leaves me drained, unsettled, and emotionally exhausted, while being with others brings a sense of calm, peace, and gratitude. I’m deeply affected by the energy people carry, and I’ve learned to pay attention to how I feel after conversations – not just during them.

I find myself gravitating toward people who are kind, appreciative, and grounded – those who acknowledge life’s challenges but don’t let negativity consume everything good around them. I understand that life isn’t flowers every day, and friends are the people you turn to when things go wrong. I’m always there for that. What I struggle with are friendships where constant complaining replaces accountability, where nothing ever changes, and honesty is mistaken for judgment. I’m still navigating this, still learning how to stay kind while protecting my own peace.

Another thing I value deeply in friendships is genuineness. I often ask myself: would this person still be here if I didn’t have the status, access, or resources I currently have? If the answer is no, then I know where the friendship stands. Similarly, I pay attention to how people speak about others who aren’t present – not playful banter, but whether kindness and respect exist even when there’s nothing to gain.

All this has led me to value quality over quantity. I would rather have a small circle of genuine, kind friends who help me grow than many connections that leave me feeling empty. Sometimes we remain friends simply because we always have been, without ever reflecting on whether the friendship still serves who we are today.

My two cents on friendship is this: if you consistently leave conversations feeling drained rather than inspired or at peace, it might be time to reflect. Sometimes letting go creates space for better friendships, or simply for yourself. Until then, learning to enjoy your own company is not such a bad place to be.