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How to Define the
Best Friendship?
Some of the pain I have felt, I think, came from overthinking and from being too young. The difficulty I have had making friends in college may actually be a result of becoming more mature. The things people spend their whole lives searching for are often the very things they once had when they were young. For me, the most important of those things is sincerity.
Why did friendships feel so sincere when we were younger? Because our hearts were not restless. We did not carry the weight of work or adult responsibilities. By the time we reach college, every step begins to feel tied to the future. In a world that values efficient social networking, connections without purpose start to feel like a luxury. What quietly fades as we grow up is that sense of sincerity.
Sometimes, when you reconnect with old friends, you can catch a glimpse of that kind of purity again. But I often find myself wondering whether there might be some hidden intention behind their approach. Perhaps this is simply part of growing up. Sometimes I think that if I had never met Yang, I might have come to believe that friendship is nothing more than an exchange of favors.
Yang was my closest friend throughout the three years of middle school. Our meeting felt like a quiet coincidence. Her mother and my parents went to the same high school. She grew up in the same neighborhood where my grandparents lived. In elementary school, we were in neighboring classes and had already heard of each other. Looking back, it feels less like coincidence than something that had been quietly unfolding all along.
We became inseparable without quite noticing it, rarely spending time apart. Once, at the school gate, we witnessed a bullying incident, and Yang stepped in front of me to shield me. After an 800-meter run, she stayed with me for nearly an hour as I recovered, then walked me home, even though it meant missing lunch. When I was hurt during a soccer game, she ran over and confronted the person responsible.
I used to be a very self-centered person. In my own mind, I was the main character, and Yang was only the third most important female figure, with the second place often occupied by a villain. But I know now that, however I once imagined it, none of this story would exist without her.
Over time, I began to understand that friendship asks for something in return, and I tried to respond with the same care. I joined her on the cycling and hiking trips she enjoyed. When she did poorly on an exam, I would quietly buy two cups of milk tea and sit with her. On her birthday, I wrote her simple, slightly embarrassing notes, thanking her for being in my life and wishing her a better year.
Yang is one of those friends I do not speak to often, yet never run out of things to say to. We do not talk much on social media. We live on opposite sides of the ocean, in the United States and Japan. But whenever it matters, we are there for each other. She has made me realize that the best kind of friendship is one where interests align, while differences in personality create balance. We can talk about everything, from video games to celebrities, from books to travel. She is warm and open, while I am more reserved and prone to overthinking. Her energy has shaped me in ways I did not realize at the time.
The best kind of friendship, to me, is not something that never fades. It is something that allows you to let your guard down and return to a lighter version of yourself, no matter how much the world has changed.
Along the long river of life, there is always a small boat that has moved through both rushing currents and slower, murkier waters, still making its way forward. It is a kind of quiet certainty, one I have come to understand over time.
Why did friendships feel so sincere when we were younger? Because our hearts were not restless. We did not carry the weight of work or adult responsibilities. By the time we reach college, every step begins to feel tied to the future. In a world that values efficient social networking, connections without purpose start to feel like a luxury. What quietly fades as we grow up is that sense of sincerity.
Sometimes, when you reconnect with old friends, you can catch a glimpse of that kind of purity again. But I often find myself wondering whether there might be some hidden intention behind their approach. Perhaps this is simply part of growing up. Sometimes I think that if I had never met Yang, I might have come to believe that friendship is nothing more than an exchange of favors.
Yang was my closest friend throughout the three years of middle school. Our meeting felt like a quiet coincidence. Her mother and my parents went to the same high school. She grew up in the same neighborhood where my grandparents lived. In elementary school, we were in neighboring classes and had already heard of each other. Looking back, it feels less like coincidence than something that had been quietly unfolding all along.
We became inseparable without quite noticing it, rarely spending time apart. Once, at the school gate, we witnessed a bullying incident, and Yang stepped in front of me to shield me. After an 800-meter run, she stayed with me for nearly an hour as I recovered, then walked me home, even though it meant missing lunch. When I was hurt during a soccer game, she ran over and confronted the person responsible.
I used to be a very self-centered person. In my own mind, I was the main character, and Yang was only the third most important female figure, with the second place often occupied by a villain. But I know now that, however I once imagined it, none of this story would exist without her.
Over time, I began to understand that friendship asks for something in return, and I tried to respond with the same care. I joined her on the cycling and hiking trips she enjoyed. When she did poorly on an exam, I would quietly buy two cups of milk tea and sit with her. On her birthday, I wrote her simple, slightly embarrassing notes, thanking her for being in my life and wishing her a better year.
Yang is one of those friends I do not speak to often, yet never run out of things to say to. We do not talk much on social media. We live on opposite sides of the ocean, in the United States and Japan. But whenever it matters, we are there for each other. She has made me realize that the best kind of friendship is one where interests align, while differences in personality create balance. We can talk about everything, from video games to celebrities, from books to travel. She is warm and open, while I am more reserved and prone to overthinking. Her energy has shaped me in ways I did not realize at the time.
The best kind of friendship, to me, is not something that never fades. It is something that allows you to let your guard down and return to a lighter version of yourself, no matter how much the world has changed.
Along the long river of life, there is always a small boat that has moved through both rushing currents and slower, murkier waters, still making its way forward. It is a kind of quiet certainty, one I have come to understand over time.