Bakuɭ

I was reading a blog by Weike Wang about  The Trouble with Friends .  I t brought me back to this quiet draft in my notes I’d been returning to, editing whenever I felt so. Reading her words pushed me to finally share mine.  Friendship has always been the most important thing in my life. Maybe even more than romantic love, honestly. Friendship feels foundational. Rooted. It has a depth, a warmth, a steadiness. It has so much to offer. Often, we have seen videos about types of friends. the caregiver, the chaotic one, the Google friend, the financer, etc. We shift through roles with time, people, and phases, but I think each of us has a core friendship personality . Mine has always been the therapist friend. The one people run to when they need to vent, seek a neutral space, or simply fall apart for a minute.  I’ve always had very few friends. Not because I don’t like people, I just rarely feel truly at ease with most. Growing up, my brother was my best friend...

I was sitting at my favourite spot that evening, doing what I usually do when I don’t want to rush my thoughts. Watching the sunset. Holding a cup of ginger tea. Folding paper, slowly, without any particular outcome in mind. That’s when this question came up. Too much or not enough? It felt familiar. Like something I had been circling for a while without naming. Somewhere between conversations, late-night thoughts, and the constant stream of advice online. Lately, everything seems to come with a label. A warning or may be some sort of excuse to avoid accountability.  Care openly and you’re clingy. Express affection and it’s cringe. Pull back and you’re detached. Ask for effort and it’s princess treatment. Accept less and it’s the bare minimum debate all over again. I see how this plays out in everyday moments. Like when your love language starts feeling like too much simply because the other person doesn’t value it the same way. What feels like care to you becomes excess to someone...