This year of 80 days has brought challenges I didn’t anticipate. I’ve had to accept that not everyone is meant to stay close, even when my heart wanted otherwise. There’s a quiet sorrow in realizing that no matter how deeply you care, some people won’t meet you where you are. I wrestled with that, questioning my worth and wondering if I’d done something wrong. Eventually, I stopped reaching for those who wouldn’t reach back. It wasn’t a sudden shift, and the hurt didn’t vanish overnight.

Letting go left its mark; however, clinging too tightly only leads to more pain.

We all know someone like this—the distant friend.

The one who’s always “too busy” to reply, who leaves your messages hanging, unread or unanswered.

The one who disappears for days—or weeks—without a word.

You enjoy their company when they’re around. They’re kind, maybe even fun, and you don’t have much bad to say about them.

However, the truth is that you’re always the one reaching out, initiating, and waiting.

And while they might believe they’re still a good friend, their absence speaks louder than their intentions.

Side Note/Tangent: People who constantly claim they’re “too busy” often aren’t as busy as they think. More often than not, it’s not about a packed schedule—it’s about poor time management, lack of discipline, and priorities that center around themselves. They may have convinced themselves they’re overwhelmed, however, the truth is, they don’t make room for anything—or anyone—that doesn’t serve their immediate world.

The rise of unresponsive friends feels like a growing issue today.

Ironically, we live in a time with more ways to connect. Technology has streamlined our lives, reduced the time it takes to complete everyday tasks, and given many of us more flexibility in our work—even mandating breaks throughout the day.

Given all that, the constant excuse of being “too busy” to respond to a friend doesn’t hold much weight.

When someone consistently chooses not to engage, it’s not about time—it’s about priorities.

And at its core, that behavior reflects a deeply self-centered way of moving through the world.

To clarify, when I talk about unresponsive friends, I’m not referring to someone going through a difficult season—someone who’s emotionally overwhelmed, navigating a crisis, or temporarily unable to keep up with communication.

Life happens, and sometimes people genuinely can’t show up.

I’m talking about a different pattern entirely—the friend who is consistently unresponsive, regardless of what happens.

This isn’t about temporary struggle. It’s about a recurring lack of effort and presence. Unresponsive friends can still have a place in your life.

Some of them might not be great at keeping in touch daily; however, when things hit a low point, they show up when it truly matters.

And that counts for something. Those friends serve a specific purpose, and keeping them in that role is okay. Be there for them when they genuinely need support. And if they’ve proven they’ll be there for you in the challenging moments, it’s okay to lean on them when you’re struggling. Don’t exhaust yourself trying to maintain constant communication outside of that.

Some friendships are meant to exist quietly, at a distance—and that’s perfectly fine as long as you know where they stand. Unresponsive friends can be emotionally draining. They often leave you feeling frustrated, unseen and undervalued.

It’s not that they’re inherently bad people—however, as friends, they struggle to show up in meaningful ways.

You don’t need to cut them off or lose all hope that they might grow or change one day. But for your own peace, stop chasing them. Protect your energy. Let the connection be what it naturally is without forcing it to be more. Sometimes, stepping back is the kindest thing you can do—for both of you.

While I’ll still make space for some of my unresponsive friends—because, in some way, I believe it’s part of my purpose—I’m also learning to pull back.

I’ll be spending less energy chasing, and more importantly, I’m letting go of the expectations that have only disappointed me.

They’ve shown me who they are: people who don’t prioritize communication, who often don’t nurture their relationships, and, if I’m honest, who haven’t made me feel particularly valued.

That truth stings, but it’s freeing too.

Still, I’ll be here if they choose to show up differently.

I haven’t closed the door—but I’m no longer standing at it, waiting.

I also began to understand that not every situation needs my response. That’s still a work in progress. Sometimes, I wanted to speak up, defend myself, and be understood. I’ve learned that silence can be its own form of peace and that not every battle is mine to fight. Some days, the wounds feel fresh, and healing feels far off. I’m slowly and steadily learning that there’s strength in release. Letting go of people, old narratives, and the urge to make everything right. And in that space, I’m beginning to find a quieter peace.

Do you have unresponsive friends in your life?

Sit with that question for a moment.

Think about the people you’re always reaching out to—the ones who rarely meet you halfway.

Consider who they are, how they make you feel, and whether that dynamic serves you.

Now, ask yourself: is it worth continuing to chase them?

Or is it time to gently let them drift and redirect your energy toward the friendships that nourish you—ones built on mutual effort, presence, and care?

Sometimes, unresponsive friends are simply on a different path. And that’s okay. You don’t have to follow them there.