Get the scissors out
We've all got one. The friend who's meant to be turning up, meant to be following through, meant to actually be there this time, and after a while you just stop believing they will. You still get the excuses, obviously. You just stop being surprised by them, which is its own kind of sad if you think about it.
It doesn't actually matter whether they meant it. If a stranger hands you poison, it kills you. If your mate hands you the exact same poison completely by accident, not a bad bone in their body, it still kills you. The outcome doesn't care about the intention. You're just as injured either way, and yet we hand out enormous credit for "they didn't mean it" and none whatsoever for the actual damage. Backwards, if you ask me.
Jim Rohn, the American speaker, was one of the sharpest voices there's ever been on personal development, and he said something that's stayed with me for years: you become the average of the five people you spend the most time with. He was right, and it shows up hardest in business, a different room gets you a completely different conversation, different ideas, a different read on what's actually possible. Some of your current lot simply aren't coming with you as you change. Not because they're bad people. Because they belong to who you used to be, not who you're turning into.
I think about my tubs in the summer, if that's not too odd a leap. I love them, and I know full well that if I don't deadhead them, if I don't rip out the flowers that have already done their bit and gone over, nothing new comes through. Those old heads drain the goodness and fill up seed pods, energy that could be put to use elsewhere. The plant just sits there, full, tired, and going nowhere. Same with ideas. Same with people, if I'm honest. Something has to be cut back before there's room for the next thing.
So ask yourself properly. Is this friendship actually worth more to you than your own wellbeing, your finances, your peace of mind. Who's actually bringing something, who's a genuine two way street, and who, if you're honest, only ever takes. Sometimes it's jealousy, dressed up as the doubt, the dig, the "are you sure that's a good idea". Sometimes it's just apathy. And sometimes, harder to admit, they simply don't care about you the way you'd assumed they did.
It's the same with a job that's stopped fitting, or a relationship you're only staying in because leaving feels like the harder option. Call it fate if that's your language, call it timing, call it whatever you believe in, some things end because they're meant to. Staying somewhere you're not wanted doesn't protect anyone. It just delays the version of your life that's actually trying to start.
I've never had a problem getting the scissors out when I need to. I value myself too highly to let people who don't actually want to come with me slow down where I'm going. Written down that sounds harsh. It's never once felt harsh in practice. It's felt like relief, and honestly the kindest thing you can do, for you and for them. Staying somewhere out of guilt doesn't actually serve the other person either. It just keeps two people stuck who could both be somewhere better.
It doesn't have to be dramatic though. Sometimes the cut is quiet. You were always the one doing the chasing, the running around, the encouraging, the one who'd have moved heaven and earth for them if they'd ever needed it. The moment you realise that was never coming back the other way, you don't need a conversation, a confrontation, or a single passive aggressive word. Just stop being so available. Stop doing the chasing. Let it find its own level. They'll probably notice, in the end, without you ever having said a thing. What they do with that noticing is no longer your job to manage.
So get your own scissors out, loud or quiet, whichever this one needs. You don't need anyone's permission to let it go, and you don't need to wait until it stops feeling uncomfortable, because it won't, right up until the moment straight after you've actually done it. The relief doesn't come before the cut. It comes after.