PSA: This is a bit fragmented as I wrote it over the course of like two months. Any conversation you see on here is either straight out of my diary (day of) or from a text. Let’s not turn this into a men and women can’t be friends debate.
My first love was also my first real friend. We met during a Festa Junina celebration at a random middle school during my first week in Brazil and my parents had just revealed to my sister and I that we’d be moving here. The sun was shining and there was a scent of barbecued meat and fried foods in the air. The principle’s daughter was giving me a tour when she introduced me to “Harvey”. He asked me where I was from, for my hobbies and I made sure to remember his name for the next time I’d see him. Months went by and it was finally the first day of school, he spotted me in the hallway as I was on my way to class told me to come talk to him during recess so he could introduce me to his friends.
Years went by and we slowly grew closer, we had the same hobbies, the same sense of humour, and he brought out this gentleness in me I didn’t know I had, I felt like I could be myself without any judgement and I loved that.
Harvey is a huge cinephile while I’m a bookworm. Our city had a massive mall with a beautiful bookstore and a movie theatre so we’d go there for almost all of our hangouts. He’d try to lure me to the movies by telling me my bookshelf needs a new addition while I’d comment on new movies that had come out and ask whether he’d seen them— it was our thing.
The first time we’d done this, he listened to me talk about Carmilla, my favourite book, for 8 hours (zero exaggeration) without getting bored, asked questions and then analysed the book with me. I apologised for talking so much and he told me not to be, that I got this sparkle in my eye whenever I talk about my books and how much he loves my passion. That’s when I realised I had feelings for him, I must’ve been around sixteen years old. If I was braver, I would’ve kissed him then. I didn’t, but I would’ve killed to do it.
That day, he walked me to the taxi stop and waited with me until my ride got there. He told me he forgot something at the mall and appeared behind me a few minutes later, wrapping his arm around my waist and resting his head in the crook of my neck for a few seconds. I stupidly ruffled his hair as if he were a dog and our mutual friend said “That’s so cringe, I’d lose feelings for you if you did that to me” when I told her what I’d done the next day.
Of course, our little routine included lunch. Despite speaking Portuguese semi-fluently at that point, I was extremely embarrassed of my accent so Harvey would always order for me. He’d specify that I couldn’t have pork and even checked my food before I ate it, this ended with my feelings for him intensifying.
I waited until his finals were over and then I confessed. It was incredibly awkward. I was too nervous to do it in person so I called him instead, the comfort of knowing I could hang up anytime gave me the courage I needed to get the words “I like you, let’s date!” out. He said “Ah, no thank you bro” before apologising and telling me he understood if I wanted to distance myself from him. I was disappointed as I thought my feelings were reciprocated but that didn’t mean I wanted our friendship to end. Eventually, I got over it and funnily enough, this day actually brought us closer. We started spending almost every waking moment together, texting constantly and giving each other advice on any topic one could think of. We went on like this for five years until The Shift.
I can pinpoint the exact moment It started. It was November 11, Harvey’s birthday, we always called for each other’s birthday, no matter what. That morning, when my call went unanswered, I simply assumed he was busy. His “We will talk tomorrow” message reassured me until I realised that “tomorrow” would never come. I tried not to get too hung up on it at first. It’s just a phone call, but there was a decrease in how much we talked since September due to our incompatible schedules, 9 hour time difference and workload making it impossible to keep up with social media AKA our only way of communication so it was hard for me to stay secure in the friendship.
I started sending him more memes in hopes to maintain a sense of normalcy. When that stopped working, I shared random news about my life and ignored the pang in my chest when the only answer I got when I returned the question was “nothing”. That’s when the anticipatory grief started. I could see the lights getting closer, hear the horn blare at me to get off the road but I, deer caught in headlights, stood there immobile and braced for impact.
In February, he got a girlfriend, a girl i knew about as they’d had a bit of an on and off relationship for a few months last year and I was genuinely happy for him. A part of me was hurt that I didn’t find out until they made it official, especially since we used to tell each other these things but I stood silent. It’s our schedules, I told myself. He simply didn’t have the time. The growing distance between us terrified me, I didn’t want to lose my oldest friend. I was patient until March when one of my texts went unanswered for over a month despite his continuous social media presence. I obsessed over this for weeks, sent several messages asking if I’d done something wrong and cried about it to almost everyone in my life. “Sorry, I’ve been busy.” 4 massive paragraphs about how much I care about our friendship and all I got was a 4 word response.
I tried to ignore it but the difference between now and a few months ago was night and day. The shift in our friendship had been so sudden that I lost my footing and fell into its canyon. I stood silent until May 28, three days after my birthday, when he texted me about the Lego Batman game then posted about Harambe’s death on Instagram.
“You can remember Harambe’s death but you can’t remember my fucking birthday?”
I was livid to say the least. I poured my heart out only to be met with a half-assed apology of having too much on one’s plate and the information that he was ghosting his family too, not just me. Okay, my feelings are still hurt. Now what? I told him this had changed my perception of him and he apologised once again and said he’d be available to talk in June. I’ll just get an appointment with his secretary I guess. I decided right then and there that this would be the last text I’d send. I responded with a measly “Ok” and started the I don’t give a fuck war. Except, of course, I gave several fucks.
It’s July 3rd 2026, 10:47PM as I’m writing this and still I am waiting. I’m hoping that I’ll never publish this, that I’ll look back on it after everything has been fixed and think “What a stupid thing to write, all is well” but deep down I know this’ll turn into one of my many posts . I keep waiting for a “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you!” I’ll never get to read it and I know that, yet there is this small, fragile bubble of hope buried deep in my chest, in the space between my ribs, trying to cauterise a wound deeper than any it has ever encountered. I can’t bring myself to doubt the love that used to be there, doing so would be a betrayal to him, our friendship, and most importantly: myself. We loved each other, deeply even, and our friendship is one I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. He taught me what it meant to be truly understood, for someone to see the ugliest, most insecure and embarrassing sides of you and love and cherish you not in spite of them but BECAUSE of them.
And yet sometimes, I still think of myself as that 16 year old girl begging for the love of someone who genuinely loves every part of me yet can’t, for the life of them, see me in that light. There’s this hope that every time he holds my hand and passes his thumb over my knuckles, he’ll look at me and realise he’s loved me all along. That moment will never come because he’s constitutionally incapable of it. I tell myself I’m over it but my love comes in waves, each infinitely stronger than the last, destroying everything in their path and wrecking the friendship I’ve been trying so hard to protect.
July 5, 2026 7:38AM:
My feelings for Harvey never disappeared. What I had for him transitioned from romantic to a pure platonic love, a soul yearning for another soul and true companionship that can only be found a few times on Earth if you’re lucky. I have one other friendship like this and it’s something I wish on everyone, even if there is a possibility of it ending. I’m terrified of actually having lost my friend because that would mean that I lost a home and a childhood. Brazil is the longest place I lived it, it’s where I grew up and learned who I was, so what would I do if the person that was by my side through it all decided they no longer wanted to be with me? What would I do if I lost the friendship that defined my childhood and evolved with me as I aged? I don’t understand how someone who cherished and loved me so much could just decide not to one day, how they can’t find a few minutes in a day to talk to me or act as if I don’t exist after I’ve met their entire family and family friends — and I don’t want to.
Part of me feels used because this happened right after he got a girlfriend. I started thinking that maybe he’d been using my love for him as an ego booster, that the friendship I held so dear was maintained by a person hopelessly in love and another feeding into their delusions to feel better about themselves. Even as I type this I know I’m being unfair. The love was there, I felt it, I held it in my hand and moulded it into my soul, placed it in the marrow of my bones and fed from it. Our friendship, as long as it lasts, as unconventional as it is, was real. It’s undeniable, un-negotiable and irreversible. This love exists in a plane of itself and while it may not be the kind of love I wanted at the time, I can’t lie to myself nor to you and say it wasn’t there.
I must’ve mattered because somehow, no matter what we were doing, no matter who we were with, drunk or sober, the night always ended with my head on his shoulder and his hand holding mine, fingers intertwined and a soothing voice telling me everything was going to be alright. I felt at home in the space between his shoulder and his chin, like the crook of his neck was made specifically for my head to rest on and his hands, soft and warm, had been sculpted by god with the purpose of holding mine. Of course I knew, even before my inevitable rejection, that wasn’t true. Harvey wasn’t destined to meet me, nor was anything of his meant to be mine. We’re simply two people who got along especially well.
July 12 2026, 11:58PM:
There were times when I felt ashamed of being in love with Harvey. My friendships are incredibly important to me and I’d never willingly do anything to hurt them. These people have seen me at my absolute worst moments, have seen me cry over stupid shit, wiped my tears, and built me back up when I thought I was broken beyond repair— here I was, putting that at risk. These stupid feelings mended themselves into my bones, slipped through the cracks and became marrow. How dare I betray my dear friend, how dare I expect anything more from the bond we share? How dare I be upset by my rejection?
“It’s hard for me to fall in love, I need to really get to know the person” Harvey had said. So then how did he go and fall in love with a girl he’d known only three months? How is it that he’s now dating someone he’s been friends with for half the time we have? What’s so wrong with me that I’m not worthy of this romance? What’s so awful about me? It’s strange to still be upset about it when I know my feelings for Harvey aren’t romantic anymore. My pride is just hurt, I guess.
I always knew he’d eventually date his current girlfriend. I heard it in his voice and saw that shyness people in love get in their eyes when he talked about her. He’d fiddle with his fingers and say “we’re just friends” but I could see the redness in his ears and I was so jealous. I wanted him to feel that way about me, wanted to know why I needed the reason when a lot of the time, there is none. It’s so stupid, it’s not like knowing why would make me want to change. I guess that’s why my love always ends up being unrequited.
That sentence “I need to really know someone before getting feelings for them” haunts me at every turn. You really know me. You know me better than anyone, you know my soul, is that why you’re not in love with me? Will knowing me fully end with me alone, crying in bed, reaching for someone that’ll never come?
“I wish you had told me that hearing about my love life was hurting you, you’re my dearest friend, I never want to cause you pain” is what Harvey told me five years ago, the night he learned that he was my first love. It was his third month in university and he had just been broken up with, she was his first love and he just wanted the pain to be over. I said that in my case, distance had helped, I couldn’t see him as much anymore and it helped ease the pain.
He asked me who it was, I remember being shocked at the question, the answer was obvious to me but he’d always been a bit thick-headed when it comes to matters of the heart. “You’re joking, right?” I laughed. I remember him asking if he could guess. “Was it me?” I jokingly called him self-obsessed before confirming.
The reason I’ve decided to write about this now is because when I write about a situation, it’s officially over. While I’m scared of hitting publish, the last nail on this coffin, I think it’s necessary that I at least write about it so as to rid myself of this feeling. I may not have said this directly to his face, may not have asked the questions I should’ve, but he has the link to my website. If he bothers to read this, maybe he’ll text or at least to get mad at me for airing out our (my) dirty laundry.
Part of me hopes that this is a phase, that this distance is necessary for us to grow and we’ll find our way back to each other but I need to accept that it’s not a guarantee. Maybe May 28 was a real goodbye, maybe we’ll never speak again. I’m not okay with that but I have to be. My liver is burnt and I don’t know what to do, I’ve been hurt by a person I didn’t think was capable of ever causing me pain. I could get over not being loved romantically by him but not being loved at all is something I never even considered, I always assumed we’d be in each other’s lives until we grew old and cranky.
To this day, if you ask me which team I’m rooting for in Brazilian football matches, I say I root for Botafogo because Harvey told me to say it, that Botafogo is his team and as his friend I should support that team by proxy. I never really cared to research that team nor do I know if they’re any good but I don’t think my answer will change anytime soon, for old times sake, for the love that used to be there and always will be. It’ll shrink and grow with time, might even become imperceptible one day but it’ll never leave.
Everyone around me said his distance was because his girlfriend must be uncomfortable with our friendship. We’d spoken about this before, “I’d never date anyone like that.” This was four years ago and to this day I believe it. However, if he was given an ultimatum, if his girlfriend was indeed uncomfortable with our friendship, I don’t think that’s her fault. The only way we know of each other is through him so I can’t help but wonder what he told her about me. Did he tell her I used to have feelings for him, that he thinks I still might? It doesn’t matter.
Our friendship as I know it ended because the Harvey I know and love has gone missing. I miss my friend, I miss him very much. I miss the camaraderie and the closeness we had, the inside jokes and gossip sessions, planning my book, turning him into a parrot in it because he happened to piss me off that day, going to the movies, buying books… I’m heartbroken, and I’ve mourned our friendship in a way I don’t have the words to describe because they just haven’t been created yet.
At times, I think I might’ve exhausted him. I’d cry for whatever reason, he’d hug me, hold my hand and tell me everything would be alright. Of course, he’d be tired after a while. He took care of me so much that I became unable to take care of him. I want him to use my shoulder to cry on, to call me if he’s upset or needs advice but looking back on it, I don’t think I ever gave him the opportunity to do it. If I could go back in time, I definitely would shut up more. But I can’t go back. The time has passed and we haven’t spoken and my pride won’t allow me to send the first text after doing it for so long.
July 14 2026, 4:29PM
His first time back from university, Harvey asked me out to lunch. “Do you think I have any red flags?”
I chuckled before asking him if he wanted a list or just the most flagrant ones. He chose the latter option. “You have a fear of commitment and you send a lot of mixed signals.”
“I DO NOT!!”
“Harvey, you told me ‘when I think about love, I think of you’ the day before you left for Canada and this was AFTER you rejected me. That’s a mixed signal.”
“But I mean it, you’re lovely. You’re the first person I want to see when I come back to Brazil and the last person I want to see before I leave.”
To this day it’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me. “It’s still a mixed signal,” I sighed “what about me, do I have any?”
“Nah, I’d say you’re pretty chill” he gave me a pointed look and shit-eating grin before adding “Besides the fact that you crush on your friends and emotionally unavailable people.” I called him an asshole and stole one of his fries before he dropped me off with my ride. We saw each other a few more times after that, luring one another to the mall with promises of new books and good movies.
When the time came for me to apply to university a few months later, he suggested I come to Canada. “We’d have so much fun! You already know some of my friends and it would be nice to study together.” At the time, I still had feelings for him. The distance helped but I refused to apply to any university in Canada to not give myself the option to make an important life decision based on a crush who had made it clear he wasn’t interested. Besides, I hate the cold and by that time, I had already decided to study law so my options were limited to countries I can study for free and I speak the language of AKA Turkey or France. I chose to go to France, much to Harvey’s dismay. “I hate French people more than I love you, sorry. Come visit me and my family in Portugal!” Honestly valid, I can’t even be upset by that.
Over the years, we joked that one of us had abandoned the other for France/Canada, pretending to be mad at one another for subjecting us to a life without the other in it. Everyone around me was convinced that if we lived in the same country, we’d for sure be together by now. It’s a stupid thought, really. We had already lived in the same country for five years before Harvey went to university and nothing had ever happened between us.
On a random October day in 2023, I received a text from Harvey’s one other Turkish friend. “When are you coming to Canada? I’m tired of hearing about you all the time without even knowing you!” I chuckled at this because while I was fully over him by then, hearing that my absence actually affected Harvey made me really happy. I said I’d try to come in October 2024 but of course, ticket prices are a bitch so I ended up never going. The fucker Harvey never visited me in France either.
Last year in July, Harvey invited me to Portugal. The country has never appealed to me but my dearest friend was there so of course I’d want to go!
I landed in Porto at 10AM and there he was with his mother to pick me up. I hugged them both and we chatted all the way back to their house. As I waited for Harvey to get dressed, his mother asked if I was dating him. This is a common occurrence with us, his mom had also asked me this question four years back, the day before Harvey left for Canada because he had insisted I join their family on their last dinner together. “You must be a special friend, we haven’t met any of his other friends yet.” I was 16-17 at the time so you can imagine the impact hearing that had on me. My point is, I was used to these questions and had rehearsed my answers for when she’d ask them again, “No auntie, we’re just really good friends.”
Harvey doesn’t know this. I never told him, but last year, his brother also pestered me about our relationship. “You can tell me if you’re dating, I’m 16, I have a girlfriend too.” When I denied these allegations, he asked if we had “at least fucked” to which the answer was obviously no. The next morning, he asked me if I had come just to see Harvey or to sightsee as well. I was honest and said it was to see Harvey. He simply said “I don’t get y’all” and went to his room to change, we were going on a road trip to visit their family friend and apparently, I was invited too.
Harvey and I had a great time but of course, I had to ruin the vibe on my first night. We were sitting by the Douro river, soft jazz was playing the background and I was tipsy from the massive piña colada I had drank. I started talking about how much I hated my life back in France, my family problems and of course, my rape. He sat there, held my hand and hugged me tight.
“My brother has a plushie I can lend you, I don’t want you to be alone tonight.” The tides rose and fell, leaving seashells full of the remnants of my love for him in their wake. I shook myself off and the feelings were gone.
“It’s alright I don’t want to steal from your brother.” I chuckled as he wiped my tears.
“Seriously, it’s no worries, he’s a big boy now, he can sleep without a plushie.” In the end I refused but it’s one of my favorite memories together. I’m guessing by now, you’re starting to understand how I may have been exhausting him throughout our friendship.
It’s Wednesday July 15 2026, 6:51AM, I woke up to a text from Harvey after almost two months of silence. “Just to warn you, France lost so get ready for some noise.” Besides the fact that there was going to be noise regardless of the outcome (because football fans are fucking weird), I find it hilarious that that’s the topic he decided to text me about while fully knowing I couldn’t care less for football. I may be overthinking this but, Harvey by Her’s is a song we both love and it’s one I post often. Whenever I do so, Harvey would immediately text me and vice versa, kind of like a sign, I miss you, talk to me. I’m mentioning this because I posted that song yesterday.
I responded to the message by thanking him for the warning and telling him I’m in Türkiye. This resulted in everything seemingly going back to normal and I don’t know how to feel about it. We’ve been talking every day since then but there’s this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach whenever we do. Is this it? Almost two months of silence and you get to pretend nothing ever happened? I’m still hurt by everything and my perception of you has been irreversibly damaged and you get off the hook by texting me about a sport I hate?
It’s an icky feeling. I know that this is him trying to avoid the awkwardness— The conversations we’ve had from march to may were basically fights and shitty apologies, haven’t we had enough? What’s the point in arguing again? The problem is, I’m not satisfied.
It’s now August 14 2026 10:39PM this feeling has slightly subsided but I’m not fully over the situation. I love Harvey, I want our friendship to move past this but I hate how easy I’ve made it for him. I wish he’d struggle more, I wish I could see the remorse on his face and I wish I wasn’t feeling so vengeful. I’m trying to move past it, this friendship is very important to me and I don’t think one big fight should end it, especially since it’s the first one we’ve had but I don’t recognise the person in front of me. Where is my Harvey, where is my friend? Will I ever see him again? Is it worth the wait?
Despite wanting to lock the door, I’ve left it cracked open, just enough to let the light from the hallway in, to show that it’ll never close, I’m just tired of being the one to walk through it every time. I want to be the one who hears the knocks, who decides whether or not to let the other one in. I’m tired of being on the other side, hands shaking as I lightly tap the oak and press my ear against it to hear shuffling. I’m tired of being the one who waits.
© 2026 C. H. Gökdemir. All rights reserved.
Cece: Unfiltered 
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