Keeping friends has become something like an emergency situation for me.

Not because I don’t know people, but because the word friend has never come easy.

During my SIWES, one of my course mates casually called me a friend.

And honestly? It felt strange. That wasn’t how I saw the person.

To me, they were just a course mate — maybe someone in my general circle.

Funny enough, we had been talking since 200 level and we’re about to enter 400 level.

That’s how hard it is for me to consider someone a friend.

I’ve used the word friend loosely before, but truly accepting someone as one?

That’s another story.

And if making friends is hard, maintaining them is even harder.

My circle is small — ridiculously small. So small that if someone says, “You said this,” I can almost trace exactly who they heard it from.

Yet somehow, I’ve still managed to mess up a lot of those relationships.

Not intentionally — but because of things I’m now honest enough to admit:

I like being alone.

I get emotionally detached easily.

I’m not the best listener.

I come off nonchalant, even though deep down, I care too much.

Almost too much.

It got so bad that my closest friends from secondary school — people I considered brothers —

I haven’t seen them in five years.

And we live in the same city.

It’s not even that everyone is too busy.

We all get at least one free weekend in two months.

One day to hang out.

One day to reconnect.

But it doesn’t happen.

Unless we accidentally bump into each other at an event or in public.

This habit has cost me amazing relationships.

And I’m not blaming anyone, just taking accountability.

Because the truth is:

The same way you think someone should reach out to you…

Is the same way they’re thinking you should reach out to them.

So drop the pride.

Send that message.

Make that call.

Reconnect.

Friendship won’t maintain itself.

Someone has to take the first step — and sometimes, that someone has to be you.