Friends, Fake Friends, and the Exhausting Quest to Be “Cool”

Grab some f****** cup of tea because I am done handling double standards of people who call themselves my "friends", so let's call them out together, eh?

Dec 07, 2024

Friendships are so damn confusing sometimes. You think you’ve got it figured out—who’s there for you, who’s got your back—and then life does what it does best: throws a curveball and leaves you questioning everything. It’s not the dramatic betrayals that get you, either. It’s the slow, creeping doubt. The realization that maybe you’ve been holding onto something that’s been slipping through your fingers this whole time. There’s this thing we all do—pretend we don’t care as much as we do. It’s like we’re all in this unspoken competition to see who can be the most indifferent. God forbid you text first. God forbid you text twice. God forbid you let someone know you actually miss them. Because apparently, that’s the fastest way to scare someone off—by caring. But let’s be real for a second. Isn’t that what friendship is supposed to be about? Caring? Like, deeply, annoyingly, unapologetically caring? I don’t know when we started treating effort like desperation, but I’m over it. I’m tired of holding back. I’m tired of this unspoken rule that to keep people around, you have to act like you don’t need them. Because you do need them. And that’s not weakness—it’s human.

So here I am, sitting in the quiet dark room of mine at 3 a.m, in the morning, thirsty but too lazy (my blanket is warm and i am confortable) to get up and get mysef a glass, thinking about the people who’ve walked in and out of my life. The ones who felt like forever but weren’t. The ones who stayed, even when I wasn’t at my best. And the ones who made me doubt everything I thought I knew about love and loyalty. Let’s unpack it together without a drink today—because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that friendship is one of the most beautiful, complicated, and heartbreaking things we’ll ever experience.

The Problem with “Cool”

Can we just agree that being “cool” is exhausting? Like, actually, physically draining. It’s this unspoken rulebook we’ve all agreed to follow: don’t care too much, don’t text too soon, don’t try too hard. God forbid you send two texts in a row—that’s apparently social suicide. And for what? To look detached? To win some imaginary game of indifference?

But here’s the thing about being cool: it’s a mask. A shield we wear because we’re too scared to admit that we care. Too scared to risk being the one who loves more. And it works—until it doesn’t. Because the friendships we build while trying to be “cool” don’t feel real. They’re brittle, ready to snap the moment we stop playing the game.

The truth? You can’t connect with someone when you’re holding back. You can’t build something meaningful when you’re terrified of looking like you care too much. And you know what? Caring isn’t a flaw. Caring is the whole point.

Fake Friends: The Silent Burn

There’s nothing quite like the sting of realizing someone you called a friend was never really there for you. It’s a slow, creeping kind of pain. It starts small—missed calls, canceled plans, a weird vibe you can’t put your finger on. And then it hits you: this person was never rooting for you. They were in your life for what you could give them—attention, status, convenience—but never for you.

Fake friends don’t announce themselves. They don’t come with warning labels or dramatic exits. They just… fade. They stop showing up when you need them most. They make you feel small, like you’re too much or not enough. They leave you questioning what you did wrong when, in reality, the problem was never you.

But here’s the kicker: letting go of fake friends isn’t easy. Even when you know they’re bad for you, there’s still that ache of missing the version of them you once believed in. It’s okay to mourn that. It’s okay to feel angry, hurt, even betrayed. But don’t let that pain make you cynical. Not everyone will leave you. Not everyone is like them.

Real Friends Aren’t Always Perfect

I think we have this romanticized idea of what a “real” friend looks like. We expect them to always say the right thing, always be available, always understand what we’re going through. But that’s not real life. Real friends mess up. They forget things. They hurt you without meaning to.

But here’s the difference: a real friend will never make you doubt their intentions. They’ll own their mistakes, apologize when they’ve hurt you, and work to make things right. They’ll listen, even when they don’t fully understand. They’ll stand by you, not because they have to, but because they want to.

And let me tell you, there’s nothing more beautiful than a friendship that survives the messy parts. The awkward conversations, the arguments, the times you drift apart and find your way back to each other. That kind of friendship is rare, and it’s worth fighting for.

The Loneliness of Playing It Safe

I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be the “cool” friend. The one who doesn’t need anything, who’s always easygoing, always fun. And you know what I got for it? Loneliness. Because when you pretend you don’t need anything, people start to believe you. They think you’re fine when you’re falling apart. They stop checking in because you’ve convinced them you’re unbothered.

The hardest lesson I’ve had to learn is that it’s okay to need people. It’s okay to text first, to say “I miss you,” to tell someone when you’re hurting. Vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s the foundation of connection. And yeah, it’s scary. You might get rejected. You might scare off the wrong people. But the ones who matter? They’ll stay.

Friendship Isn’t a Numbers Game

We live in a world that values quantity over quality. How many followers do you have? How big is your friend group? But let me tell you, none of that matters at 3 a.m. when you’re crying and you don’t know who to call. Friendship isn’t about how many people you know; it’s about how safe you feel with the ones you do.

It’s the friend who picks up the phone no matter what. The one who remembers the little things—your favorite song, the way you take your coffee, the fact that you hate being alone on Sunday nights. Those are the friendships that matter. Those are the people who make life worth living.

Letting Go to Make Room

Sometimes, the hardest part of friendship is knowing when to let go. It’s realizing that not everyone who walks into your life is meant to stay. And that’s okay. Letting go doesn’t mean you failed. It means you’re brave enough to make room for something better.

It hurts, though, doesn’t it? Letting go of someone you once thought would be there forever. But here’s what I’ve learned: the pain of holding onto a toxic friendship is far worse than the pain of letting it go. And the peace that comes afterward? That’s worth everything.

A Love Letter to My People

To the ones who stayed: thank you. Thank you for seeing me, even when I wasn’t easy to see. Thank you for showing up, for listening, for loving me exactly as I am. You are my safe place, my home, my proof that real connection exists.

And to the ones who left: I forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I do. I’m done carrying the weight of what-ifs and could-have-beens. I wish you well, but I’m moving on.

Friendship isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, being honest, and loving each other through the mess. It’s about the late-night talks, the belly laughs, the quiet moments when you just sit together and know you’re not alone.

So, text your friend. Tell them you love them. Let go of the people who don’t see your worth, and hold tight to the ones who do. Life’s too short to settle for anything less than real connection.

And remember: you’re not hard to love. You’re not too much. The right people will see you, and they’ll stay—not because you played it cool, but because you were brave enough to be yourself.

Here’s a little song, a lesson Mr Kim Taehyung taught us,—

With love,
Mukta <3

*all the posters & pictures are courtesy of pinterest and from my pin collections, i own none of them.*