Posted on 17/09/2025
I had a childhood friend who was at the same schools as me all the way until we both left for university. We were good friends, but we started to ‘drift apart’ when we entered junior high school. We were always placed in different classes, which meant we naturally ended up with different circles of friends.
I always tried to keep close to her, but I didn’t feel the same effort from her side. She was still nice. She didn’t dislike me. But I could tell I wasn’t part of her close circle anymore. It felt like I was standing outside the group, looking in.
Sometimes I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t “cool enough.” I was introverted, orphaned, not rich—basically not a glamour kid or someone who had status. I was never part of the “popular kids” crowd at school.
And then, as you can probably guess, we slowly stopped being friends at all.
A few years ago, I told my best friend that I missed that childhood friend of mine. I didn’t even know that she was already married and had at least one child. I felt this sudden wave of disappointment—like life had kept moving forward without me noticing.
She was the one friend who had known me for the longest time compared to others. Not even my current best friend, whom I’ve known for “only” 10+ years.
Being my own neighbour, she knew my “tragic” story of being an orphan at 9, while the majority of the schools were clueless. She knew that I had to move out to a relative’s house so someone could look after me. She was part of that timeline of my life that no one else could replace.
But my best friend said something simple: people come and go. And it’s true. There were times when I loved being surrounded by people, only to lose them later. I still remember when I couldn’t work alongside my old colleagues anymore—either because they left the workplace or because I did.
I even have had this weird imagination where we magically reunited again in the same workplace. Crazy, huh? And that separation happened 5+ years ago!
Then, now, I’m doing the same to someone
He has been in my life since we were 18. But life happened, so I didn’t know much about him for many years.
Then, in the past year, I came to know about him again because of something. I must admit that he changed me for the better in this time span even though he didn’t know it. It’s like a little sunshine in my dark world of brokenheartedness.
But now I’ve decided to distance myself from him for some reasons I can’t fully explain here.
In the past, I had already “let him go” once. So when this second time came, it’s not really that difficult. Still sad, yes, but I must do this. I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while, and I know it’s not because I hate him or anything like that.
Sometimes people leave simply because they need to. No hard feelings. And surprisingly, this decision lifted some hidden weight inside me. For some mysterious reason, I started to feel a little more positive, even though I’m still heartbroken. I can focus on myself again, be more grateful, and nurture some hope that I’ll rise from the dark.
So, what about that person now?
Well… he’s been part of my life since we were 18. So in a way, he’s not just ‘then’—he’s now, and maybe always.
Nothing lasts forever
This life is temporary. If you’re a Muslim, you already know this—our lives don’t really belong to us. They belong to God. And everything about life is subject to change, often in ways we never see coming.
It’s not hard to understand that happiness can turn into sorrow in the blink of an eye. But it’s also true the other way around: sorrow can shift into happiness when we least expect it.
So when I think about my sadness, I remind myself: it’s temporary.
It’s like the people logic: people come and go, and so does sadness.
