They didn’t leave because I changed. They left because I stopped performing.

Something shifted quietly

I didn’t notice it at first. Just fewer messages. Less enthusiasm. Fewer invitations.

Not because I became mean, or toxic. But because I stopped being the guy who made everyone feel good.

I wasn’t funny anymore. I didn’t shine in conversations. I was just... present.

And apparently, that wasn’t enough.

That’s when I realized:

You’re not loved for who you are. You’re loved for how you make others feel.

Emotional value is currency

Make people laugh, they’ll remember you. Make them feel seen, they’ll keep you around. Be inspiring, useful, comforting , and you have a role to play.

But stop doing those things, and you’ll watch your social presence shrink. Not out of cruelty. Just... utility.

People don’t leave in protest. They fade. Because you’re no longer emotionally profitable.

I saw it, and I did it too

I’ve disappeared from people’s lives when they became heavy, hard to carry. I told myself I was busy, or growing. But the truth is, they weren’t making me feel good anymore. And I didn’t want to face their weight.

So I looked for lighter people. People who made me feel clever, admired, safe. I wasn’t evil. Just tuned in to my emotional economy.
We all are.

What this means

If your worth is tied to what you provide emotionally, you will always feel fragile.

Because the moment you can’t deliver, you risk disappearing.

This is not a call for despair. It’s just a truth I needed to say aloud:

Love, friendship, loyalty , they’re often just well-wrapped trades of emotional value.

It’s not evil. It’s not fake. But it’s not pure either.

And knowing this helps. Because now, I don’t beg for affection when I’m low. I just understand:

They didn’t change.

The value did.