Sometimes, when the world gets too loud, I find myself drifting back to those golden days. You know the ones I’m talking about — where laughter echoed through empty hallways after school, where summer seemed to stretch on forever, and where my biggest worry was whether we’d have enough players for a pickup game of basketball.
God, I miss those days.
I miss the way we’d pile into someone’s beat-up car, windows down, music blasting, heading nowhere in particular but everywhere all at once. I miss the late-night conversations that meandered from our wildest dreams to our deepest fears, all while sprawled on someone’s living room floor, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and the comfort of unshakeable friendship.
Remember how we swore we’d always be there for each other? How we mapped out our futures, certain that no matter where life took us, we’d face it together? We were so sure, so confident in the permanence of our bonds.
But here I am now, scrolling through old photos, names becoming fuzzy, inside jokes losing their punchlines. How did we get here? When did the daily catch-ups turn into yearly birthday wishes on Facebook? When did “Let’s hang out soon” become an empty promise we all knew we wouldn’t keep?
It’s not like anything dramatic happened. There was no falling out, no big fight that tore us apart. Life just… happened. Slowly, then all at once. We graduated, got jobs, moved to different cities. Some of us got married, had kids. Our worlds, once so intertwined, began to orbit further and further apart.
I try to rationalize it. We’re busy, we have responsibilities now. Time is a luxury we can’t always afford. But then I think — if these friendships meant so much, if they were as vital as we once believed, shouldn’t we make the time? Shouldn’t we fight against the current of life pulling us apart?
Maybe it’s not just about time. Maybe it’s about change. We’re not the same people we were back then. Our interests have shifted, our personalities have evolved. Sometimes I wonder if we’d even recognize the person we’ve become in each other’s eyes.
But still, I can’t help but yearn for those simpler times. For the inside jokes that had us in stitches, for the shoulders that were always there to cry on, for the unwavering support that made us feel invincible. I miss the version of myself that existed in those friendships — unguarded, unfiltered, unapologetically me.
I’ve tried reaching out, you know. Sent those “Hey, how’ve you been?” texts. But the conversations fizzle out after a few exchanges, weighed down by years of unshared experiences and the awkwardness of time passed. It’s like we’re trying to rebuild a bridge with mismatched pieces from our past and present.
So why aren’t we in touch? I wish I had a clear answer. Maybe it’s a combination of everything — time, distance, change, and the gradual erosion of what we once thought was unbreakable. Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe we’ve all just gotten too comfortable in our separate lives, too scared to disrupt the status quo, too afraid to find out if those connections are truly gone.
But here’s the thing: even as I write this, feeling the ache of nostalgia and loss, I can’t help but smile. Because those memories, those friendships, they shaped me. They’re a part of who I am, even if they’re no longer a part of my daily life. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
So here’s to old friends and simpler times. To the laughter that still echoes in my mind, to the lessons learned, and to the bonds that, even if stretched thin, will always be a part of my story. And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll find our way back to each other, older and wiser, but with that same spark that made us friends in the first place.
Until then, I’ll keep these memories close, a reminder of a time when friendship was as easy as showing up, and as constant as the stars in the sky.