A blog by Pepetoe.

Most friendships don’t end with a dramatic blow-up. They end quietly. Through the things we don’t say, the questions we avoid, the assumptions we let harden, and the conversations we’re too scared or exhausted to have.

I’ve learned recently that the hardest seasons of your life don’t just test you. They test the people around you. When you’re burnt out, overwhelmed, barely holding yourself together… that’s when you notice who checks in, who shows up, who listens, and who slowly steps back. Not everyone will stay. Not everyone is meant to. But the silence, the distance, and the indirect comments can hurt far more than an honest conversation ever could.

This blog post is about that. The words unsaid. The support withheld. The friendships that survive the hard seasons, and the ones that don’t. I’m hoping there’s some of you out there going through something similar to me right now, despite how truly shit it can be. At least we have this community to hold onto.

Who’s Really In Your Corner

There are two types of friends:

1. People who love you when you’re easy to love
2. And people who love you when you’re a mess

When life is calm, it’s pretty simple to be a good friend. Because you don’t have to be there for someone. But in the difficult moments, when you’re grieving, burnt out, exhausted, spiralling, healing, or rebuilding yourself, that’s where the real friendships show up.

Hard seasons strip away all that “fluff”. They reveal who checks in without being asked, gives grace instead of judgment, listens instead of assuming, and chooses understanding instead of distance. And painfully, on the flip side, they also reveal who only wanted the “light version” of you. Only the fun, stable, thriving, emotionally available version.

These hard times teach us who is really meant to be in our lives, those people who will stand by you no matter what. It’s not about blaming. It’s about recognising the reality that some people are simply not equipped to hold space for you when you really need it. I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s a bad thing, but I know it sucks. It makes it clear that these people aren’t ready to be in a friendship that involves a lot more than coffee dates and liking each other’s instagram posts.

The Things Left Unsaid Cause The Most Damage

Silence in friendships is so much louder than words. It’s the texts that go unanswered, the tension we pretend isn’t there, the hurt we swallow instead of express. But silence doesn’t solve anything. It just:

• creates space for assumptions
• allows resentment to grow
• makes both people feel misunderstood
• turns little cracks into irreversible fractures

Indirect communication is one of the most destructive forces in friendship, and I’m deeply sorry for anyone who has to go through this. When you so desperately need someone, someone you used to trust would stand by you, to be there for you. Instead, they are nowhere to be seen, leaving you to cope on your own. Which may not be a bad thing, but if it’s costing you even more people in your life, then, yes, it can be a fierce thing to crawl out of.

Silence can sometimes go further, and you may both end up talking about the problems and issues to everyone else except each other. While this rarely comes from a malicious place, it can still ruin not just you, but the both of you. This replaces clarity with speculation, understanding with misunderstanding, and honesty with narrative.

When nothing is said, everything gets interpreted. And usually interpreted in the worst possible way. Maybe rumours are spread, more people get involved, while you’re sitting here wishing that person would just talk to you, and if they did, maybe you could feel like you could speak to them too.

When Support Isn’t Mutual

There’s a very specific kind of heartbreak that comes from realising someone you trusted, someone you thought would always be in your corner, simply isn’t. It doesn’t happen with fireworks or an obvious betrayal; it can happen quietly. It can happen in the moments when you’re struggling and they pull back instead of stepping forward. It can happen when you open up about something painful and their response feels hollow, distracted, or painted with judgement. It can happen when you start to feel like your emotions are “too much,” not because they’ve said it explicitly, but because their distance has made it clear they don’t know how to hold space for you.

What makes it so painful is that you would’ve done it for them. You know you would have shown up. You know you would have listened without jumping to conclusions or deciding who you are based on a single rough patch. When you see someone as a best friend, you naturally assume the support is mutual – that if life knocked you sideways, they’d steady you the way you’ve steadied them. But sometimes that’s not what happens. Sometimes the people you thought would be your safety net look the other way when you fall. And the shock of that, and the grief of it, is something you feel deep in your chest. It’s not that they’re a bad person. It’s that they weren’t there at a moment when you needed them most, and that realisation changes everything.

Difficult Conversations And Why We Avoid Them

Most friendship problems could be eased, softened, or even completely resolved with one conversation. But those conversations are the ones we avoid the hardest. We avoid them because the truth feels vulnerable. Because telling someone “you hurt me” feels like holding your heart out in your hands and hoping they don’t drop it. We avoid them because conflict feels dangerous, especially with someone we care about. The irony is that avoidance doesn’t protect the friendship; it slowly erodes it. Every unspoken feeling becomes another layer of tension, another reason to pull away, another barrier that didn’t need to be there.

But difficult conversations don’t have to be confrontational. They don’t have to be dramatic or explosive. At their core, they’re an opportunity to be seen. To say, “This mattered to me,” and to give the other person a chance to understand instead of guess. Even if the conversation is uncomfortable, even if it brings up emotions on both sides, it creates clarity… and clarity is an act of kindness. It gives both people a shared reality instead of competing assumptions. It allows space for repair, for accountability, for growth. And even if the conversation doesn’t “fix” the friendship, it creates an honest ending instead of a confusing one.

Why Friendships Change, Fade, or End

It’s one of the hardest parts of growing up: accepting that not all friendships are meant to last. Some people come into your life for specific seasons, and when those seasons end, the connection shifts. It doesn’t always mean someone did something unforgivable. Sometimes it’s as simple, and as heartbreaking, as realising you need different kinds of people around you now. Maybe you’ve grown emotionally and they haven’t. Maybe your priorities have changed. Maybe their capacity doesn’t match what your life currently requires. Maybe you’ve both changed in ways that make closeness harder than it used to be.

Letting a friendship fade can feel like failure, but often it’s a necessary form of self-respect. You can love someone deeply and still recognise that the dynamic isn’t healthy anymore. You can appreciate who they were to you while acknowledging that they can’t be who you need now. And that’s not cruelty; it’s acceptance. It’s choosing peace over confusion, honesty over resentment. Some friendships end abruptly, but many simply loosen, like a knot that slowly unravels. It hurts, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Sometimes letting go is the only way to make room for people who can meet you where you are, not where you used to be.

Healthy friendship isn’t about perfection, it’s about presence. It’s about two people who choose, again and again, to communicate even when it’s uncomfortable, to show up even when life is busy, and to be honest even when the truth feels awkward or messy. It requires mutual effort, not one person carrying all the emotional weight. It requires curiosity, and the willingness to ask “what did you mean by that?” instead of assuming the worst. It requires grace, and the understanding that people make mistakes, but they also have the capacity to grow if they’re willing to try. And above all, it requires emotional availability: not just being physically present, but being willing to care, listen, take accountability, and show kindness in the moments that matter.

You don’t need friends who never ever hurt you. You need friends who don’t disappear when life gets hard, who don’t make your struggles about them, who don’t pull away at the first sign of discomfort. Real friendship is built in the unglamorous moments: the willingness to stay even when it would be easier to avoid. Those are the friendships that last. Those are the people worth holding close. And you deserve nothing less.

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NB: I want to be really clear — this post isn’t an attack on anyone. I’m not naming names, blaming specific people, or trying to paint myself as the victim. These are simply the feelings and realisations that have come up for me during a really hard season. And if you’re someone who was, until recently, one of the closest people in my life, I’m sorry if any of this feels pointed or uncomfortable to read. That’s not my intention. This is me processing, reflecting, and trying to understand myself better — not tearing anyone down. Sometimes writing things out is the only way I can make sense of what’s happened, what I’ve learned, and what I need going forward. If anything, I hope it opens up space for compassion, clarity, and maybe even healthier conversations in the future.