Are Friends Just Friends?

Heart Reacts, ‘Busy Week,’ and a Whole Lot of Nothing Real

Or are they just there for the filtered versions of us?

Maybe this isn’t venting.
Maybe it’s the most honest thing I’ve said all week.

Friendship—what a scam sometimes.
Marketed like a soft place to land, but when you actually fall?
You find out most people only show up for the highlight reel.

The ones you cracked open your chest for—
now just ghosts who send heart reacts on stories and reels.
Thumbs up in the group chat.
“Busy week” on repeat.
Reacting, never reaching.
Conversations shallow enough to drown in.
Weather. Work. Plans. Nothing with blood in it.

They got married. Moved. Got spiritual. Got silent.
You told the truth once—maybe twice too many—and suddenly, you were radioactive.
Because people want real until it challenges their comfort zone.
Then it’s “I need space” or worse—nothing at all.

So now I show up like a ghost.
They don’t know what I’m carrying.
And at this point? I wouldn’t trust them with it anyway.

Because honesty makes people uncomfortable,

and most of them only signed up for the good vibes and filtered light.

So yeah.
I’m in bed.
Fugazi blasting in my ears.
“I’m so tired…”
And fuck, same.

I’m writing into the void like it’s the only one that won’t leave me on read.
Maybe being alone with the static and the screen is better than being half-held by half-interested people.

And maybe this isn’t tragic.
Maybe this is freedom.

Because the truth?
It’s not that I’m too much.
It’s that I finally stopped shrinking to fit into their lives.

Let the group chats rot.
Let the “we should catch up”s die in drafts.
Let the ones who only showed up for the good times fade out like bad background music.

The ones who are meant to stay—
they’ll find the volume knob on my silence.
They’ll knock without needing permission.
They’ll sit in the mess without trying to fix it.

Until then—
let the guitars scream for me.
Let Fugazi carry the ache.
Let this quiet night hold me tighter than they ever did.

Because maybe, just maybe—
this silence I’m sitting in
isn’t loneliness.
It’s proof I’m finally hearing myself.

If your breath just changed—
You’re not alone.
The rest of this? It’s already waiting.