11/08/2026
For Prudence’s Sake, Please Don’t Send Me Photos or Call Me on Video During Gatherings I Wasn’t Invited To‼️
For prudence’s sake, please do not send me photos of your gatherings or suddenly call me on video when you are already together—especially when I was not even invited.
This has happened to me several times.
Some people I know, including former classmates, have called me unexpectedly. I answer because I think there might be an emergency or something important that needs my attention. Then I realize they are already together at a restaurant, sometimes already on their second stop, and suddenly they say:
“Come over here!”
What exactly am I supposed to do?
Come running to a gathering where I was never invited in the first place, only to arrive when most of the food has already been eaten, listen to conversations and gossip, hear people burping, and watch everyone picking food from their teeth with toothpicks?
Honestly, I find that kind of behavior thoughtless.
If you did not invite me, then please do not suddenly make me feel as though I am expected to appear simply because you happened to remember me while you were already having a good time.
I am not a clown who can simply be called whenever you want an additional person at the table.
Recently, someone even sent me photographs of a gathering and said, “Regards.”
I have to ask: Why send me pictures of a gathering I was not invited to?
Perhaps the intention was innocent. Perhaps they thought they were being friendly. But sometimes people need to understand that something intended as concern can come across as unnecessary or even insensitive.
# # # A Conversation at the Airport
I recently met some of these same people at an airport. During our conversation, someone mentioned:
“The last time we reunited was at the wake of Jun’s mother.”
I simply remained silent and said, “Oh well, that is good.”
But inside, I remembered something very different.
When my own mother died, very few people came.
In fact, some of the people who showed up were schoolmates whom I barely even knew anymore—and I was genuinely surprised by their presence. They came without making a show of it. They simply appeared.
That experience taught me something.
Sometimes, the people we expect to be there are nowhere to be found, while people we barely expect can unexpectedly show up when it matters most.
And that is why I have become more careful about the word “friend.”
Familiarity Can Sometimes Be Misused
People can easily take advantage of us simply because they know us.
When someone has known us for years, they can become overly comfortable with our availability. They may assume that because we were once close, we will always answer the phone, always accommodate them, always show up, always help, always listen, and always remain the same person they knew decades ago.
But familiarity does not give anyone permanent access to our lives.
Knowing someone for twenty years does not mean you are entitled to their time today.
Being classmates does not mean we must remain friends forever.
Working together does not mean we must maintain a personal relationship forever.
Sharing a past does not automatically create an obligation for the future.
People change. Circumstances change. Priorities change.
And sometimes, we simply grow apart.
There is nothing tragic about that.
I Am Not Bitter—I've Simply Learned to Let Go
Let me make this very clear:
I am not bitter.
I have deliberately left those negative feelings behind.
I don't want to carry resentment. I don't want to spend my life keeping a list of people who disappointed me, people who forgot me, people who didn't invite me, or people who were absent when I needed them.
Life is too short for that.
But leaving bitterness behind does not mean that I have to pretend that certain behaviors make sense.
Sometimes people try to appear concerned and empathetic only after the fact. They send photographs, make calls, say “regards,” or suddenly ask why they haven't heard from you—as though these gestures automatically prove that there is still a meaningful relationship.
Sometimes it feels absurd.
Concern should not be performed. Friendship should not be performed. Empathy should not be performed.
If you genuinely care about someone, you don't need an audience to prove it.
And sometimes the most honest thing we can do is simply acknowledge that we are no longer part of each other's lives.
And Then There Is Social Media
There have been times when I have blocked people on social media.
Eventually, someone asks:
“Why did you block me?”
And sometimes my honest answer is:
“We haven't spoken for ten years, and you noticed that I blocked you?”
That alone says something.
Why does my profile need to remain on your Facebook?
Is my presence there supposed to give your news feed some kind of glitter because I am supposedly that valuable to you?
Let us be honest.
We all have our own lives.
We have our own families, responsibilities, problems, dreams, work, faith, and struggles.
And the truth is, we don't necessarily care about each other's daily lives anymore.
That is not cruelty.
That is adulthood.
We can wish each other well without needing constant access to each other's lives.
We can forgive without reconnecting.
We can remember the good years without pretending that we are still living in them.
We can have no hatred toward someone while still choosing distance.
I Am No Longer the Person You Remember
I was not the same person you knew years ago.
I am no longer the classmate who was expected to have all the answers during examinations—the one who was somehow the “Sun” in the solar system, with everyone else coming to me for answers.
I am no longer the clown.
I am no longer the person expected to entertain everyone.
I am no longer the automatic source of solutions.
I am no longer the light of every party.
And I don't need to be.
I have grown.
My priorities have changed.
My path has changed.
I have chosen a smaller circle.
I have chosen a quieter life.
I have chosen my family, my responsibilities, the mission God has entrusted to me, and above everything else, God Himself.
I find friendship in prayer.
I find companionship in the Saints.
I find comfort in my Guardian Angel.
And I have discovered something beautiful:
You can be alone without being lonely.
Sometimes solitude is not punishment.
Sometimes solitude is protection.
Sometimes isolation is where God teaches us to hear His voice without the noise of the world.
A Classmate Is Not Automatically a Friend
A classmate is a classmate.
A co-worker is a co-worker.
A neighbor is a neighbor.
An acquaintance is an acquaintance.
And a friend is a friend.
We should not be afraid to make that distinction.
Friendship is not measured by how many years you have known someone.
It is measured by what remains when life becomes difficult.
Who remembers you when there is nothing to gain?
Who checks on you when you are struggling?
Who comes when there is no celebration?
Who stands beside you when you are grieving?
Who remembers you not only when everyone is eating together, but when you are sitting alone?
Those are the questions that matter.
So Please Don't Invite Me After the Invitation
If you didn't invite me, please don't suddenly call me while everyone is already together.
If I wasn't part of the gathering, please don't send me photographs afterward to show me what I missed.
If we haven't spoken in ten years, don't be surprised if I no longer feel the need to maintain a connection on social media.
And if we have grown apart, there is no need to manufacture a relationship that no longer exists.
There is no hatred here.
There is no revenge.
There is no bitterness.
There is simply acceptance.
I have accepted that some people belong to a chapter of my life and not to the entire book.
And I am grateful for whatever good memories we once shared.
But I am also grateful that God has taught me that I don't need to belong everywhere.
I don't need to be invited to every table.
I don't need to be included in every reunion.
I don't need to be remembered by everyone.
I don't need to prove that I am still part of a circle that I have already chosen to leave.
My life is no longer about being seen at every table.
It is about knowing which table truly matters.
And for me, that is the table where I find God, prayer, peace, family, purpose, and the people He has genuinely entrusted to my life.
So, for prudence's sake, please let me remain where I have chosen to be.
I am not offended by being absent.
I am simply content.
I have chosen my path.
I enjoy my solitude.
I have left the bitterness behind.
And most importantly, I have found peace in walking with God.
