We used to share everything—stupid jokes, series talks, religion vs. atheism chats, the songs that got us through tough days. Weekends meant coffee and honesty, the kind of friendship that felt easy, like breathing. But then, slowly, something shifted. Not all at once. Just a quiet crack, barely noticeable, until one day the whole thing split wide open.
The thing that broke us? Politics.
We were never on the same page politically, and that used to be fine. We’d tease each other—I called you “too woke,” you joked I was “down the rabbit hole.” It was light, harmless. But then the jokes stopped landing. The online posts started—sharp, frustrated, sometimes outright mocking. You’d read something I shared and think, That’s about people like me. I probably saw your posts and rolled my eyes, thinking you were just another self-righteous echo chamber. Maybe you were.
The hardest part isn’t that we disagreed. It’s that the disagreement swallowed everything else. Conversations turned into arguments. Silences became loaded. And after one too many clashes over headlines and elections, we just… stopped. (At least, you did.)
It didn’t have to go this way.
I still believe people are more than their politics. So what went wrong? We forgot something simple: Being kind is more important than being right.
Our friendship worked because of trust, because of the unspoken promise that we’d listen, even when we didn’t get it. But somewhere along the way, we let politics become who we were. We stopped trying to understand and started trying to win. And in the end, we both lost. Or I could be the only loser here.
Can friendships survive political divides? I hope so. But it takes work. It means biting your tongue sometimes. It means saying, “I don’t agree with you, but you still matter to me”—and actually meaning it.
It also means knowing when to walk away. Not every bridge can—or should—be rebuilt. If a friendship turns toxic, if respect disappears, sometimes the bravest thing you can do is let go.
What do I take from this?
That I can stand by my beliefs without burning every bridge. That love doesn’t require agreement—but it does require respect. That some fights aren’t worth having, and silence isn’t always defeat.
I miss you. Maybe I always will. But I’ve learned that real friendship only lasts when both people choose each other over the argument.
Next time, I’ll try to choose better. And I’ll hope someone chooses me too.
