The Truth Behind What You're Really Asking

There’s something undeniably touching about being seen, really seen. Especially when it happens through a fleeting moment: a late-night voice note shared online, a candid photo, a caption that feels like home. You catch a glimpse of someone else’s connection and think, “I want that.”

And so, you reach out. Maybe with a DM. Maybe in person. Maybe with words like, “Can we be friends? I love what you have with [insert name here].”

It’s sweet. It’s sincere. But it’s also a bit misunderstood.

What draws most people in isn’t just the idea of friendship, it’s the result of friendship.

Yes, read that again.

The joy. The laughter. The unwavering support. But here’s the thing: those aren’t friendship itself. They’re its fruit. And fruit takes time. It doesn’t just appear; it grows. It’s nurtured. It survives storms. It requires intention.

In a world of Instagram stories and curated “bestie” content, it’s easy to crave the highlight reel. But real friendship? It’s less filtered. More gritty. It’s emergency calls at inconvenient hours. It’s running across town with tools to help someone who’s locked out. It’s the grace to forgive, the courage to admit fault, the loyalty to stay—especially when it’s hard.

I remember dragging myself out after a long day because a friend’s front door wouldn’t budge, and she and her siblings had nowhere else to go. I was exhausted, but friendship asked me to show up. And I have friends who’ve done the same for me—when it wasn’t comfortable, or easy.

Most people aren’t chasing that part. They’re chasing the glow, not the grind.

Let’s be real: deep friendships aren’t conjured out of thin air. There’s no magic spell that turns strangers into soulmates. Every meaningful connection has a backstory. A shared history. A quiet understanding that says, “I’m in this, all of it—not just the good.”

Real friends don’t just consume your energy. They contribute to your life. They invest. They build. Slowly. Brick by brick. Story by story. Vulnerability by choice.

So if you’re longing for real friendship, don’t just ask for it—embody it.

Be the friend who shows up in the mess.
Who gives without keeping score.
Who apologizes and means it.
Who claps hard when the win isn’t theirs.
Who stays when leaving would be easier.

Sure, sometimes friendships click instantly. There’s a spark, a familiarity. But even those need watering. Comfort doesn’t equal depth. And depth isn’t instant—it’s earned.

To anyone who’s ever looked at someone else’s friendship and thought, “I want that,” here’s the truth:

You can have it.
But you’ll have to build it.
Not just crave it. Create it.

Because real friendship isn’t something you find.

It’s something you forge.

And only those who commit to tending the fire will ever truly feel its warmth.