Selective, Not Sorry

Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying so hard to be liked. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s peace, or maybe I just ran out of energy to keep up with relationships that felt one-sided. Whatever the reason, my circle these days is small — like, blink and you might miss it small. And honestly? I prefer it that way.

There was a time when my phone never stopped buzzing. I had friends for every occasion — the fun ones, the deep talk ones, the ones who only showed up when they needed a favor. I used to think that meant something. That being “the friend who’s always there” somehow made me valuable. Spoiler alert: it mostly just made me exhausted.

Now? I’m selective. Not bitter. Not antisocial. Just protective of my peace.

My family has become my real community — the ones who actually show up, not just “like” things online. They’ve seen every version of me: the put-together one, the falling-apart one, and everything in between. Those are the relationships I pour into these days — the ones that matter, that last, that don’t make me question my worth after every conversation.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy meeting people. I do. I love those rare, organic moments when someone new crosses my path and the energy just clicks. No performance, no pretending. Just genuine connection. But I’m no longer interested in forcing chemistry that isn’t there. I’ve retired from chasing people who clearly don’t want to be caught.

I’ve learned that forcing friendships is like microwaving leftovers that should’ve been thrown out days ago — sure, you can do it, but it’s not going to sit right.

I think as you grow, your definition of “community” changes. Mine sure has. My family, my faith, and the few people I trust completely — that’s my circle now. And honestly, it’s peaceful here. No drama, no backhanded support, no constant competition dressed up as friendship. Just mutual respect and a shared understanding that life is busy, but love doesn’t have to be complicated.

I used to feel guilty for pulling back. Like I owed people access to me just because we had history. But I’ve realized: history doesn’t equal loyalty. Just because someone’s been in your life a long time doesn’t mean they still deserve a front-row seat. Some folks are better loved from a distance — like, a “you stay over there and I’ll wish you well from here” kind of distance.

And honestly? I’ve made peace with that.

These days, I crave simple, steady connections. The kind where you don’t have to overthink your tone in a text, or feel guilty for needing space. The kind of people who understand that love doesn’t need constant validation — it just is.

I’m open, sure. I’m always open to something real. But I’m not auditioning for anyone’s approval anymore. If it flows, it flows. If it doesn’t, I’m not going to drown trying to make it.

Call it boundaries. Call it growth. Call it “selectively social.” Whatever you want — I call it peace.

And maybe that’s what getting older does. You stop wanting a crowd, and start craving connection. You stop trying to fit into circles you’ve outgrown, and realize your energy isn’t meant to be shared with everyone who asks for it.

So yeah, my circle is small — but it’s solid. It’s peaceful. It’s honest.

I used to want to be surrounded. Now, I just want to be understood.

And if that makes me “selective” then I’ll wear that like a badge of honor.