The Friend Who Got Cold After I Blew Up

When I first started blowing up online, it didn’t even feel real. My phone was buzzing nonstop — TikTok going crazy, DMs full, reposts everywhere. People I ain’t talked to since middle school were hitting me up like we were besties. But through it all, I kept one thing solid: my best friend, Kev.

Me and Kev had been boys since we were nine. We made dumb YouTube videos, shared music, roasted each other till someone cried — that kind of bond. So when my videos started taking off, I expected him to be hyped. And he was… at first.

“Yo, you’re up next, bro,” he said when my first video hit 50k. We stayed up all night planning the next one. He even helped me shoot some clips and gave ideas for skits.

But something shifted around the time I hit 100k followers. I didn’t notice it right away, but looking back, it’s clear as day. He stopped sending memes, stopped laughing at my jokes like he used to. He’d watch my stories but wouldn’t reply. In real life, he got quiet. Cold, even.

One day I asked, “Everything good, bro?” He hit me with, “Yeah, just been busy,” and shrugged it off.

But I knew it wasn’t that.

A week later, I dropped a collab with a creator we both used to watch. That video? Blew past a million in 48 hours. I was hype, running around my room yelling, texting everyone — even Kev. He left me on read.

That’s when it hit. My own best friend wasn’t happy for me. He was jealous. And I didn’t wanna believe it, but the signs were all there.

I tried pulling him aside. “Bro, what’s up with you? You been distant ever since this content stuff started poppin’.”

He looked me dead in the face and said, “You changed, man. You think you’re better than everybody now.”

That hurt. Because I wasn’t acting brand new. I still invited him out, still asked for his opinion, still credited him when he helped me. But none of that mattered.

He didn’t see me as his best friend anymore. He saw me as competition.

After that, things never went back to normal. He stopped showing up. I’d see him hang with other people — people who used to clown him — and he looked happy. Like he moved on.

I kept grinding. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t mess with my head. Success didn’t feel the same without him around.

It’s crazy how fast people switch. One minute they’re rooting for you, the next they’re resenting you. And not because you did anything wrong — just because you made it further than they did.

That’s the thing no one tells you about blowing up. You don’t just lose privacy or get overwhelmed with attention. You lose people. And sometimes, the ones you thought would be clapping the loudest go the quietest.

Months passed. I kept doing my thing. New people came into my life — creatives who understood the hustle, who weren’t intimidated by it. And I healed, slowly. But I never forgot Kev.

I still got love for him. Real talk, I always will. But I learned something deep from that fallout:

Not everyone’s meant to come with you when you level up. Some people only love you when you’re on the same step as them. The moment you take one step higher, their energy shifts.

And that’s not your fault.

If someone can’t handle your shine, it says more about their darkness than your light.

So to anyone reading this, chasing dreams, building something — remember this:

You don’t have to shrink to keep people comfortable. You don’t have to dim your light so others don’t feel blinded. Keep shining. Keep going. The real ones will celebrate you, not compete with you.

I thought losing Kev would break me. But it built me instead.

Sometimes, the people you lose are the exact reason you win.