Friendship Hoarding: Why We Hold on to the Wrong People

They say you can’t have too many friends. But what if you could?

The Sentimentality Trap 

Some friendships are timeless and effortless in the way they persist through the slow drift of life changes. Others, however, become harder to hold on to as they begin to feel a bit heavy and misaligned.

Yet, many of us can’t let them go. The term “friendship hoarding” captures this little trap we might all have fallen into when we decide to stay in friendships long past their expiration date, when they drain more than they give.

It seems like we keep them close to us as proof that we are, or were, loved. But at what cost?

When Friendships Erode, Not Explode

Not all friendships are toxic in an obvious way. Some just quietly wear you down. The friend who never replies or who makes you feel small. These friendships erode us, yet we stay.

Why? Because cutting ties feels cruel. Research suggests that our emotional response depends on how the fallout happens. Betrayal or conflict often leads to guilt and stress. But if it fades naturally through life changes, it feels less like a failure and more like something we can’t control.

Especially in our twenties, when life feels transitional and uncertain, we cling to what’s familiar. Losing friends can feel like shedding pieces of our identity. We fear what that loss might say about us: Were we not good enough? Did we fail to keep it alive?

We also grow up romanticising phrases like “friends forever” and “since we were kids” without questioning whether those bonds still serve the people we’ve become. It feels like a taboo to admit a childhood friendship has grown stale.

When Familiarity Feels Foreign

Not long ago, a friend I had known for years said something that left a bruise. We were reminiscing and talking about our university choices – where we went, where we might have gone. I shared a bit about my own path, one that I’m proud of: built on long hours of hard work and a hunger for something more. Then, casually, she questioned whether it was even that difficult to get where I am.

It stung, not because I needed her approval but because I expected her to understand. I never needed applause from strangers, but I had hoped the people I loved would see me clearly. At the very least, to treat my efforts with the same respect they’d offer anyone else.

At that moment, I realised I was being spoken to in a way that even a stranger might have thought twice about. And the sadness that followed wasn’t just from the comment but the gap it revealed between us, a quiet rupture of trust and mutual respect.

That moment didn’t shatter the friendship, but it left a mark – a new awareness that even in long-held bonds, you can be made to feel small. And that self-respect sometimes means stepping back, not in anger, but in clarity.

Rather than being about cutting people off, it’s about choosing not to shrink for the sake of comfort. Love doesn’t excuse everything, and not every friendship is meant to walk with you all the way.

The Lessons Behind Friendships That Ended

In a world where “best friend” is supposed to be a badge of honour, it can feel like a failure to realise some relationships expire. But letting go isn’t always cruel. Sometimes, it’s an act of kindness to yourself, and even to the other person.

Friendship doesn’t have to last forever to be meaningful. But it does have to feel like mutual respect. If it feels like a one-end effort, maybe it’s time to ask: Is it still worth pouring yourself into?

It’s easy to view the end of a friendship as a loss. But it’s also growth. The quiet courage it takes to honour who you’re becoming, even if that means leaving someone behind. The realisation that protecting your energy isn’t selfish but self-respect.

So, ask yourself:

• Who do you feel lighter around?
• Who challenges you in the right ways?
• Who makes you feel like yourself, not a version of yourself you’re trying to sustain for their sake?

Friendship should be about presence, not just history.