What’s not fine is dishonesty. Don’t promise me the moon and then deliver me… radio silence. If you can’t help, say it. Don’t ghost me while I’m hanging by a thread.
Have you ever been in a situation where you see no way out, like the walls are closing in, and your only hope is that one long-time friend you’ve always trusted?
You finally gather courage, swallow pride, and ask for help. And they reassure you with all the confidence in the world: “I will, baby. Wewe ni rafiki na mshikaji, usiogope mpenzi.”
At that moment, you actually breathe. You even sleep better. You tell yourself, “Yes, this is why we’ve been friends all these years.”
But then… crunch time comes. And suddenly, this same “ride or die” transforms into the Michael Jordan of excuses.
Last week they were your superhero. This week? They’re texting you at 05:54 p.m.: “Mamy, acha tu. Hali ya sis sio kabisa, naomba nakupigia please.” Translation: you’re on your own, hun.
And that phone call? Spoiler alert—it’s never coming.
Now listen, helping a friend isn’t mandatory. Nobody is saying your bestie must sell a kidney on eBay just to cover your drama.
Life happens, money gets tight, and sometimes people genuinely can’t. That’s fine.
What’s not fine is dishonesty. Don’t promise me the moon and then deliver me… radio silence. If you can’t help, say it. Don’t ghost me while I’m hanging by a thread.
The worst part is the imbalance. Here is the thing…friendships are rarely 50/50, but toxic ones are like 90/10.
You don’t ask for much, yet you’ve been the MVP of the friendship.
You’ve shown up, brought gifts, remembered birthdays, and played therapist at midnight.
Basically, you’ve been the “customer service department” of the relationship. But the one time you need them? Poof. Disappearing act.
And please, let’s not pretend this is just a “busy” moment. If someone normally replies to your texts in 0.3 seconds but suddenly goes mute for six hours the day before your crisis, baby, that’s not bad timing.
That’s betrayal. Period.
And the truth is, toxic friends are exhausting. They drain your energy, shake your trust, and make you question if you’re crazy.
They’re like subscription services you never signed up for, constantly taking, never delivering, and impossible to cancel without stress.
But real talk, friendship is supposed to feel like a safe spa day, not like Squid Game. If every interaction leaves you more anxious than before, then you’re not in a friendship; you’re in an emotional ghetto.
So let’s call it what it is: emotional cruelty. Because a real friend may not always have the money, the answers, or the solution, but they’ll have the honesty.
They’ll tell you upfront, “Babe, I can’t.” And honestly? That’s enough. At least you know where you stand.
So the next time you’re caught up in the storm, ask yourself: is your friend really your lifeline, or are they just the one tightening your wig glue until it snaps?
