"NO LONGER CLOSE" BY TIONGCO, CAITLEEN MAE B.

    "No Longer Close"

There was a moment in my life when I acted beyond my basic needs and desires—when I chose to stay by a friend who was going through a rough patch in their life. At the time, I was dealing with my own stress from school and personal challenges—something that feels quite personal to mention here, but something in me knew that what my friend was going through required more than just occasional check-ins. I made the choice to be present for them every day; to listen without judgment, and to offer comfort even when I was too tired or had none left for myself. I didn’t do it because it was expected of me, nor did I expect anything in return.
They often pushed me away because they felt like they didn’t deserve it, that they just wanted to be alone and not cause problems or be an even bigger burden to others, but I still stayed. I did it because I knew how it felt to be silent and made fun of when we spoke about our troubles. I did it because I wanted to be the person I had once longed for, to be what I wished someone had been for me.

At first, I viewed the situation from a limited and emotional perspective. I was overwhelmed by the weight of my own problems and questioned why I had to carry someone else’s pain when I could barely carry my own. There were moments of doubt and frustration—times when I felt like my efforts didn’t matter, when I felt like giving up on them and moving on. My emotions made the situation feel heavier than it already was, and I focused mostly on how much I was giving and how little I was getting back.

But when I paused to reflect and truly understand the situation—including my thoughts, emotions, the context we were both in, and the pain my friend was carrying—my understanding began to change. I realized they weren’t pushing me away to hurt me; they were trying to survive in their own way. I recognized that being there wasn’t about fixing them, but about offering presence and kindness. That shift allowed me to let go of resentment and embrace the moment for what it truly was—an opportunity to grow, to love, and to heal together, even silently.

That experience taught me something powerful about my potential as a human being. I realized that I am capable of rising above my own limitations—emotional exhaustion, fear, or uncertainty—when it means being there for someone else. I discovered that empathy isn’t just a feeling, but a force that can push us to act selflessly, to give even when we feel empty. In that moment, I didn’t feel defined by my own needs or my physical state. I felt like I was more than just a body going through daily processes or a mind chasing goals. I became aware of a deeper part of myself—one capable of reason, compassion, and understanding that can’t always be explained logically.

Considering both the emotional (partial) and the bigger-picture (holistic) perspectives helped me understand the experience more wisely. My emotions gave me access to empathy and connection, but stepping back gave me the clarity to see the purpose behind the pain. 

It showed me that wisdom is born from the balance of feeling and reflection. It made me realize that true humanity lies not just in what we need, but in what we’re willing to give—even when it’s difficult. In the end, I learned that I was capable of more than I thought—not just in action, but in understanding, in love, and in quiet strength.

To conclude, that friend and I eventually drifted apart. We’re no longer close, acquaintances at best, and while I don’t hold a grudge, though, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little bit ticked off now and then. Still, I genuinely wish them the best. That chapter in my life reminded me that sometimes, no matter how much we give, no matter how tightly we hold on, people still leave. Life doesn’t always reward effort with happy endings, and things don’t always make sense right away. But I’ve come to understand that just because something didn’t last doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. Sometimes, showing up, giving love, and being there for someone—even if it’s only for a season—is enough. Life may not always unfold the way we imagined, but our choices to be kind, to care, and to try—that’s what defines us as humans in the end.