Hello Inspirers   I remember staring at my phone one rainy Tuesday evening, my thumb hovering over a text message I had written and rewritten five times. The recipient was "Sarah" (not her real name), my best friend since we were seven years old. We had survived awkward middle school haircuts, high school heartbreaks, and the chaos of university life together.  But for the last two years, every time her name popped up on my screen, I didn't feel that old spark of excitement; I felt a heavy, sinking knot of anxiety in my stomach. I realized with a sudden, heartbreaking clarity that I wasn't just busy or tired—I was grieving a friendship that was still technically alive. I had outgrown her, and the guilt was absolutely consuming me from the inside out. There is a strange, silent shame that surrounds the concept of an "adult friendship breakup." Society gives us a million songs, movies, and guidebooks on how to get over a romantic partner. We know how to proce...