Friends That Break Your Heart
Payton CowleyThere’s a very specific kind of heartbreak that comes when a friend breaks your heart. It’s not loud like a breakup or dramatic like in the movies. It’s quiet. Weird. Kind of slow. Like realising the show you loved got cancelled and nobody bothered to tell you. The grief doesn’t knock the wind out of you at once—it just sits there, building until you can’t ignore it anymore. Friends that break your heart in this way leave you wondering how something so special can fade without a single warning.
I think you know it’s over when you’re pouring from an empty cup. You’re bending over backwards, overthinking every text, showing up again and again just to be met with…nothing. Not even the crumbs you used to get. And you keep going, because the good times were so good, and maybe if you try just a little harder, you’ll get back there. But you don’t. And eventually, you wake up one day and think: “This is breaking me.”
Letting go of a friend feels like ripping off a plaster over and over again. There’s this mourning period where you’re crying over inside jokes that used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt. You miss the version of you that only existed when you were around them. You mourn the plans you made for weddings and babies and holiday traditions. And then you start wondering: what did I do wrong? Could I have saved this? Did I outgrow them, or did they outgrow me? And why does that distinction even matter when it all hurts the same?
I've come to realise that sometimes people just drift apart. No blow-up, no betrayal, just…distance. And that’s okay. But it doesn’t mean it won’t wreck you for a while.
Seasons change. Sometimes, friendships were only meant to keep you warm through the winter. They served their purpose when life was harsh, cold, and you needed the comfort of someone to help you get through. But winter doesn’t last forever. When spring arrives, and the world starts to bloom again, you realise that not every relationship is meant to grow with you. Some friendships are like thick woollen coats—perfect for a season, but too heavy to carry when the sun starts shining. The beauty lies in appreciating the warmth they gave you, even as you gently fold them away.
Grieving a friend isn’t linear. Some days, you’ll miss them so much it physically aches. Other days, you’ll feel a quiet peace knowing you let go of something that wasn’t meant for you anymore. Both are valid. Both are part of the process.
Eventually, you’ll stop replaying every conversation, and the sharp edges of the loss will soften. One day, you’ll scroll past their birthday on Facebook or Instagram and smile instead of cry. You’ll remember the good times without wishing for them back. You’ll find new friendships that don’t feel so heavy—the kind where you don’t have to work so hard to feel wanted.
You heal, you grow, and one day, you’ll look back and realise that letting go was the hardest part of making room for friendships that won't break your heart. These new connections will adapt to life’s seasons with you—ones that grow alongside you, providing the kind of support and warmth that doesn’t fade when the seasons change. They’ll be the kind of friendships that don’t leave you wondering where you went wrong, but instead, make you feel seen, valued, and cherished. And maybe that’s the bittersweet gift of heartbreak: it clears the space for the people who will stand with you, not just in the good times, but through every season of life, without ever leaving you empty,
or broken.
Payton x
