An Open Letter - The Leftover Friend

The leftover friend. The friend who gets invited last minute to certain plans. The friend who is considered an after-thought. The friend who others know about and find them enjoyable, but their company won't really make a difference. The friend you would go to for a nostalgic catchup rather than go for a constant hangout.

I'm that friend. Some people are lucky enough to belong to a group of friends. But ever since I was young, I never truly belonged to a friend group. There's no grand reason to any of it, I was not really an outcast or such. I just happened to have different parts of me that related more with different friend groups, and my personality tends to adapt to the situation.

This airs out an insecurity of mine I still have yet to untangle. And generally, I don't like writing about things where I still have not found peace to. But over the years, this insecurity has just bottled up itself and has been shelved for a very long time. I think it is the only thing I want to turn a blind side at, despite my self-awareness and self-work. Because it is just too painful to think about, and too shameful to admit.

Ever since I was young, I held this observation within me. I will be the friend someone invites because they feel bad for forgetting. I will be the friend they ask to chip in for a friend's birthday gift, but then forget that your birthday was coming up as well.

And you know, when you're young, you just let these kind of things slide. When you're still finding yourself and building your self-worth, you tend to do everything you can to fit in. In my case, that's just not to say anything about how I felt and be the "chill" friend. I don't want to voice out my sadness because then that will cause conflict, and then I will be disliked. At least they're asking me for these favors. At least they're inviting me anyway. At least I'm included to this extent.

But you can only do as much until things change. One day, you're an adult. Your environment changes more often, and more responsibilities start to circle around us that hinder us from staying in one place. Adult friendships are unfortunately more difficult to maintain. For starters, friendships are generally created in environments where you meet the same people often. During school days, it's much easier to form them since you see the same people on campus every day.

And so I try to put more effort in maintaining the friendships that I cherish. I am somebody who highly values their friendships, and when I come across somebody I connect with, I do my best to maintain and nurture them. I just find a lot of love in meeting new people, bonding and developing new perspectives through these friendships I make.

I like making calls to catch up, I like sending mail, I like sending messages just to know that I'm thinking about them.

But when responsibilities start to pile up and the distance grows (literally since I'm in another country), the patterns of being excluded and isolated become more frequent. Your friends may not pick up your calls, they might only text you back after weeks, or they might just stop talking to you overall. The weight of feeling like you do not really belong anywhere will resonate a bit more.

And the loneliness can start making you act out of fear. Always doing the initiating until it starts to feel one-sided. Their reasoning that they are busy starts to feel like an easy excuse to phase me out of the picture. And you start to feel like you're the deadweight. Like you're the leftover friend.

Generally, I have always been the one initiating this side of the friendship, whether this be the friend who initiates the hangouts or the catch-up calls. And as much as I enjoy taking up this role, I also do so from carrying this root fear that if I do not do so, nobody will be initiating it. And I don't know if this became a self-fulfilling prophecy in some way, where my friends have become accustomed to my role as being the "initiator" in my friendships. And so when I try to distance myself from this role, the assurance that the friendship is mutual is not there.

And I think my friends have the impression that I am comfortable being alone (which I am). After all, I like doing activities on my own and creating my own experiences. But there is a balance that I still have not found of having my own personal space for growth and having a mutual sharing of that space. So at times, I believe it is one-sided, where I welcome a lot of people in my space, whilst they still have their door closed.

With this distance, I came to realize that I lack this connection. Even with those I call my closest friends. I lack the reassurance of having friends who enjoy being in my company, who just want to check in and catch up. And that makes me wonder where I stand as a friend? Do my friends even think that I'm a good friend? What does being a good friend mean to me and to my friends?

I spent a few months reflecting a lot on my friendships and the way I have developed them over the years, especially with the distance. I started to wonder whether these friendships were one-sided. Am I connecting and going out of my way as a way to ignore the insecurities I hold when it comes to my interpersonal relationships?

I just wish that we could normalize more open conversations on what being a friend means to us. Because expectations could be different depending on the person. I, for instance, highly value my friendships and put a lot of weight on this label. I see friendships as a relationship where we can be vulnerable with each other. What may be seen as values in solely romantic relationships are something I also find important in platonic relationships. I value friendships where I can bear my real self unapologetically. However, to others, being a friend may not necessarily have this much weight. And that's okay too. But having this mismatch of expectations can lead to disappointment and just feeling lonely.

And as I type this, it does still hold a heavy weight in my heart. That I fear being alone. Not in a "I need people" kind of way, but just having the fear that the people I care about actually don't feel the same way. That I am just trying too hard to be accepted and recognized as a friend, when I should just give up.

To be honest, I don't even think I have a "best friend". I don't have a person who someone would consider their "go-to" person.

Years of accumulating these pent-up thoughts, it finally culminated to the dark thought of if I vanished, there wouldn't be a difference to anybody's lives. That's not to say that I am circling around the action of doing so. I believe years of self-work has allowed me to truly say that I love myself and I do my best to give myself compassion.

That is why with these realizations, I have come to find myself at a crossroads on how to re-discover my friendships and my expectations. Do I want to let go or do I want to re-discuss and open this conversation with my friends? Am I outgrowing my friendships or is there still a lot untapped growth in how I connect with them?

Honestly, I don't know where to start. Since the very beginning, I have always acted as someone who did not need anything from my friendships. I am okay if I am ditched, excluded, or forgotten about.

But you know what? I think it is okay to admit that I have needs in my friendships. For so long, I did not want to admit it, for friendships are generally a concept in society where needs are not really prioritized. Friendships are of lower priority in the list when you compare it to for instance, with romantic relationships or familial bonds. Needs? You shouldn't have them, otherwise that just makes you a clingy friend. The only relationships you should have "needs" with are your parents or significant other.

So, as I write this blog entry, I don't have a solution figured out. I still have a heavy weight that I carry with me. And honestly, it's scary to voice an insecurity of mine that relates to so many people I care about. What will they say? How will they feel? But I think I owe it to all the younger versions of myself to do the inner work and confront my feelings.

But I write this piece not in a place of directed anger or hatred. I do not blame anyone for my shortcomings, especially since this is something I bottled up without ever sharing with anybody before. I simply write this to unapologetically admit my insecurities and shames. To recognize the loneliness that I have carried with me for so long. I write this, just like many other things in this blog, in a place of self-compassion and allow me to acknowledge even the darkest parts of myself. I want to live my life as an open book and to be comfortable with vulnerability. And isn't that the first step to finding your inner peace?