The Friends Who Stayed, and the Ones Who Faded When I Was No Longer ‘Useful’

I’ve lived in the U.S. for over a decade now. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about friendship, it’s this:

Some people leave not because you’ve changed, but because you’ve finally seen them for who they really are.

When I first moved to the East Coast, I knew no one. My English was shaky, and I lived in a suburb over 40 minutes from the city. Loneliness and anxiety felt like a tidal wave — I often questioned if I could really survive in this foreign place.

But during those darkest days, a few friends showed up who I’ll never forget — Mei and Ling.

They lived in the city, but still drove over 40 minutes just to visit me. Sometimes they’d bring groceries from the Chinese supermarket — seasonings from home, or fresh produce. During holidays, they’d drive out to pick me up so we could eat together, walk around the city, or simply keep each other company.

It wasn’t convenient. It was love.

I’d often cry quietly in the car ride home — not from sadness, but from feeling deeply, deeply cared for.

There was also Rong, a classmate from my English class at the local community college. Out of the whole class, only three of us spoke Mandarin. Rong was from Beijing, and we naturally became close.

She lived in the Boston suburbs and grew her own vegetables in the backyard. Every week, she’d bring me something fresh she’d grown herself, saying, “These are clean and safe to eat. I grew them.”

In those early days when money was tight and the language barrier was real, her quiet kindness warmed my heart like a bowl of homemade soup.

I carry those memories with so much tenderness. They are still some of the softest parts of my heart.

Years later, I moved to the West Coast, where I’ve now lived for over ten years. I’ve met many people here too — some of them kind, some of them… more complicated.

One of them, let’s call her Ting, was also a classmate from an English class. She’d only been in the U.S. for 4 or 5 years when we met, and in the beginning, she was incredibly warm — inviting me to her home for dinner almost every week.

I always brought fresh vegetables, fish, or pastries to show my appreciation. We talked about everything. She once told me, “You’re the person I trust most here.” And I believed it.

But strangely, after my life became more stable — after my family and I settled down, bought a home, and felt more secure — our connection faded.

She stopped reaching out. She no longer shared her worries or asked me to visit. At first, I wondered: Did I do something wrong? But slowly, I realized… it wasn’t that. It was that I was no longer useful to her.

I hadn’t changed. I was still warm, respectful, and generous.

But she was the kind of person whose friendships were often built around information, resources, and social gain.

This wasn’t an isolated case. Over the years, I’ve met many people like that — people who are only close when you have something to offer.

When you’re quiet, low-key, or have no “value” in their eyes, they simply… disappear.

At first, I was deeply hurt.

I’m someone who values emotional honesty. I never judge people by money or status. I care about one thing: are you genuine? Is your heart kind?

I used to believe others saw friendship that way too.

But life taught me otherwise.

That’s why I cherish those early friends even more — because they were there when I had nothing to give. They didn’t come into my life because I had “value,” but because we shared something real. Because they were kind. Because they cared.

Over time, I’ve learned to let go of what fades.

I don’t force closeness, don’t expect favors, and don’t hold on to one-sided friendships.

I see friendships like a train: people get on, and people get off. Some ride with you for a while, others stay until the end.

Not every connection is meant to last. Not every goodbye deserves sadness.

In a world where networking often outweighs sincerity, I still choose to be kind. I still choose to give, and to believe in real human connection.

Not because I’m naive, but because I refuse to become someone who only sees people as tools.

I’ve seen the reality of this world. But I’ve also come to treasure those moments of unexplainable warmth — those gestures of love that expected nothing in return.

Some people left not because I changed, but because I finally saw things clearly.

Maybe we can never go back to what we once had.

But I still wish them well.

And I still carry gratitude for the ones who stayed.

How about you? Have you ever experienced the rise and fall of friendships while living abroad?

Do you carry any quiet gratitude — or quiet hurt — in your heart, too?

Feel free to share in the comments. Maybe we’ll find something familiar in each other’s stories.

(I’m grateful you made it to the end. If you found a bit of your own story in mine, and would like to support my writing. feel free to buy me a little coffee: https://coff.ee/ thelumi . Thank you always:))

(You can also find me on TikTok if you enjoy soft visuals and moments: https://www.tiktok.com/@thenikistylee?_t=ZP-8xIH8ePbstD&_r=1 )