Everyone loves the idea of checking on your friends until it actually matters. Until they start cancelling plans, until they don't reply right away, until you notice their laugh sounds... off, like it's stretched too thin. Everyone loves to talk about being there for someone until being there means sitting in silence while they look up in the sky, staring at nothing, and saying, "I don't know what's wrong with me." It's easy to like posts about caring. It's harder to stay on the call when there's no magic fix, no quick answer, no bright "it's going to be okay" moment. It's harder to keep sitting there when their words are heavy and slow, when your own chest feels tight because you want to help but you literally can't make it better. Sometimes being a friend isn't about cheering up or laughing together, it's about breathing in the awkward quiet, letting them talk in circles, letting them cry, letting them be exactly as broken as they are. And you just... stay. You stay even when it's uncomfortable. You stay even when your own words die before they reach them. You stay even when nothing changes. You stay because love isn't always fireworks. Sometimes it's just showing up again, and again, and again, even when it's ugly, even when it's messy, even when you feel helpless, even when you don't know how.