The world feels like a shopping cart with a busted wheel, wobbling unpredictably, lurching left when you swear you meant to go right. Chaos clatters, headlines howl, and everything seems just a little too much. And yet—somewhere in the middle of it all, there’s a table, a porch, waiting for the weight of an old friend.

It’s always mattered, this business of friendship and staying connected. But these days, the stakes feel higher. The risk of drifting too far into our own separate orbits is real—especially when the world keeps feeding us reasons to retreat. Doomscrolling replaces conversation, stress convinces us we’re too tired to reach out, and before we know it, weeks slip by without the warmth of an easy, familiar voice.

Isolation is sneaky. It disguises itself as self-sufficiency, as rest, as an understandable response to overwhelming times. But left unchecked, it wears us thin, dulls our edges, makes everything feel heavier than it should.

That’s why we have to show up for each other, even when it’s inconvenient. Especially then. Because the world is loud, and confusing, and often absurd—but there’s something steadying about sitting across from someone who’s known you long enough to finish your sentences or remind you who you are when you forget. A friend who laughs at the same dumb things, who calls you out when you’re spiraling, who understands the weight you’re carrying without needing much explanation. It’s not about fixing anything—just about standing side by side, a little less alone in the mess.

Maybe you sit, shoulders easing, laughter spilling like a drink poured too full, talking nonsense, or nothing, or everything all at once. It’s not denial—it’s repair. A bit of ballast against the storm, a quiet reminder that the ground is still beneath you as long as you’ve got people to lean on. Let the world wobble. For now, there’s good company, good stories, and maybe even snacks. And honestly, that’ll do.

The truth is, we are made for connection. Every study on mental health will tell you that, but you don’t need science to prove what you already know in your bones.

There’s a nourishment in friendship that nothing else quite replaces. A phone call, a shared meal, even just a ridiculous text thread with faraway friends that keeps the thread of each other’s lives woven together—these things are more than just pleasant distractions. They’re lifelines. They keep us tethered to the world, to ourselves, to the things that make life feel full instead of merely survivable.

And after the price we paid for being apart during COVID—the lost time, the distance we got too used to—it feels more important than ever.

While it’s tempting to hunker down, to turn inward, to let the effort of reaching out feel like too much—maybe try resisting that urge. Pick up the phone. Send the text. Make the plan. Drag yourself out, even if you don’t feel like it, because you will almost always be glad you did. The world may not make much sense right now, but good friends still do. And in times like these, that might just be enough to keep us upright.