There’s a certain kind of ache that sits in your chest when you realize you don’t have a best friend. Not the one in the movies. Not the ride-or-die you call after a panic attack. Not the person who understands you without explanations or the one who knows your silences.

It has always been just you showing up, being there for others, listening, holding space, smiling through the screen while somewhere deep down, you quietly wonder if anyone truly sees you. We live in a world where romantic love is hyped and worshipped, but the depth and devotion of friendship is often overlooked. And yet, I think many of us are craving something deeper, a kind of friendship that feels like a home, like family we chose, like soul recognition.

We grew up on fairy-tales and TV shows that showed us how best friends stick together through thick and thin. The Monica to your Rachel or the Will to your Carlton. But in real life? It doesn’t always play out that way. People grow apart, they move, life gets busy, group chats get dry. And you start noticing the shift. You’re the one reaching out first, asking how they’re doing, showing up even when no one shows up for you and of course, it hurts. It’s not always a big breakup. Sometimes, friendship ends in echoes, long silences, delayed replies and forgotten birthdays. And that heartbreak sure cuts deep.

When we were younger, friendship was simple. You sit next to someone in class, share a biscuit, and boom, you are besties. Now, adulthood has thrown in schedules, career goals, marriage, relocation, self-preservation and more other factors. Everyone’s trying to survive, everyone’s overwhelmed and friendship starts to feel like another task on the to-do list. This isn’t the version of friendship we signed up for. And yet, it’s what many of us are navigating.

Let’s call it what it is. It’s a kind of hunger, a longing for connection so raw, so vulnerable, that you sometimes pretend you don’t feel it. You scroll past posts of brunch dates and matching outfits, and you feel that tightness in your throat. That whisper that says, “You’ve never had this.” And really, it’s not jealousy. It is grief. Grief for the friend you never had, for the one you lost and for the friendships that were almost, but never quite enough.

Here’s what I’m learning:

We can begin again. We can choose friendship with intention. We can slowly build the kind of relationships we want. The honest, warm, present, patient and kind type.

Maybe it starts with vulnerability. With letting someone in, even if your voice shakes. Maybe it means setting boundaries and walking away when you’re not met with mutual energy. Or it means becoming the friend you’ve always wanted while trusting that the right people will find you. Intentional friendship is not just about who shows up. It’s also about who makes you feel seen, heard and loved. No performance, no pretence, just presence.

Romantic love is beautiful, yes. But have you seen what deep friendship can do? It heals. It holds your hand after a heartbreak. It lets you cry without needing to explain why, sends memes at midnight and prayers in the morning. It celebrates you without competition, remembers the little things. And that kind of friendship is regarded as intimacy too. Especially as we are in a world obsessed with romance, maybe friendship is our greatest act of rebellion. To choose each other, platonically, intentionally and tenderly.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “I’ve never had a best friend,” I see you, trust me. And I want you to know it doesn’t mean you’re unworthy neither does it means you’re hard to love. It just means your people are still on the way. And in the meantime, you’re becoming someone’s safe space too.

You’re becoming the friend you wish you had, planting seeds of love, softness, empathy. You’re showing up for others with the hope that one day, someone will show up for you in the same way. And surely, they will because real friendship is definitely worth waiting for.