The slow drift of Taylor Swift and Blake Lively's friendship is painfully familiar.

The texts between Blake Lively and Taylor Swift — about their fragile, fading friendship — have been on my mind ever since I read them.

They didn't feel salacious or explosive — despite emerging from legal filings tied to the Justin Baldoni drama. What they made me feel instead was profoundly sad.

Not because a celebrity friendship might be "fractured" (if you believe the tabloids) — relationships fracture all the time — but because of how it may have fractured.

Quietly. Carefully. Slowly.

Listen: Taylor Swift's texts have been dragged into the Justin Baldoni, Blake Lively legal drama. Post continues below.

I want to make one thing clear: the current state of Lively and Swift's friendship is not something I'm an expert in — only they know that. The pair were last spotted publicly together in October 2024, the same year these texts were sent, dining with their respective partners, Travis Kelce and Ryan Reynolds.

Maybe the pair have drifted for good, or, maybe they are still friends but just privately biding their time until a very public legal storm blows over. That's between them.

However, the texts, first reported by People as exchanges between Lively and Swift, do show the pair were experiencing a change in their once close friendship.

As someone who has recently experienced (and repaired) a quiet unravelling of a friendship, I know firsthand the confusion and pain that brings. I think it's something most women can relate to deeply, especially when it concerns a friend so dear to us.

In Lively's message, the hesitation — the anxiety— in having to ask whether they were okay was unmistakable. The tone is cautious; it's the kind of message you draft, delete, rewrite and then sit with for hours before finally pressing send. The actress herself acknowledged she sent the message at the urging of her husband.

Taylor Swift and Blake Lively have been friends for over a decade. Swift is the godmother to Lively's children. Image: Instagram/@taylorswift

"I have no reason to ask, but I donno [sic], I've been feeling like I should... is everything ok?," Lively asks, before continuing: "I felt like a bad friend lately because I was such a sad sack who only talked about my own s--- for months.

"You were generous to not only be the key person there for me during all of it, but also to let me off the hook for being so in it."

She thanks Swift for being there, for being generous and then leaves the door open for reconciliation.

"I always want the opportunity to be a better friend if there's something I unintentionally did. I know how busy and taxed you are — physically, emotionally, practically, so I don't expect any more from you ever," Lively said.

"Just want to make sure all is good."

Swift doesn't brush things off in her reply. She doesn't minimise it with a quick "all good" to preserve harmony. She meets the vulnerability with honesty; something that's harder, and arguably kinder, in the long run.

She admits she's exhausted and confirms there's been a shift in their friendship.

"I think I'm just exhausted in every avenue of my life and in recent months had been feeling a little bit of a shift in the way you talk to me," the singer wrote.

"Yes, there has been a lot of Justin stuff, but I've been through things like this before and I know how all-consuming it is.

"It's more like... and I feel really bad saying anything about this because your texts have been so nice in their intent but your last few... it's felt like I was reading a mass corporate email sent to 200 employees. You said the word 'we' like 18 times."

Swift then explains how she missed her "funny, dark, normal-speaking friend" — not a version of her filtered through PR language or over-explanation. And then she lands on the truth underneath it all; she wants her friend back.

"I know you feel attacked from all sides for ridiculous reasons, so you're feeling like you have to overly explain things... but. It's me! That's just caused a little distance. And you don't need to apologise.

"Just come back please."

Swift's response doesn't reject Lively, it invites her back. But it also names the distance honestly, without sugarcoating it.

That's rare. And it's risky.

That four-word plea has stuck with me.

This isn't a friendship "blowing-up." There's no betrayal, no dramatic falling out, no clear villain. It's a slow withering; the kind where both people are trying, but somehow missing each other anyway.

We don't talk enough about how painful that kind of friendship drift can be. In many ways, it hurts more than a clean break, a dramatic fight or even a romantic breakup.

Watch: How to have a hard conversation in a friendship. Post continues after video.

There's rarely closure. There's no definitive ending. Just a distance that grows quietly, almost politely, until one day you realise you don't quite know how to talk to each other anymore.

One person becomes guarded, while the other becomes careful. Conversations start sounding rehearsed. Everything feels slightly formal, like you're speaking through layers of self-protection rather than instinct.

Stress changes how we show up. Trauma can flatten our sense of humour. Burnout can turn even the most natural communicator into someone who over-explains, apologises too much, or hides behind "we" instead of "I."

There's a grief that can sit in that ambiguity, when a friend we love so much suddenly becomes a stranger.

Reading those texts, I saw myself in them.

I navigated something very similar with a close, dear friend last year. I, exhausted from dealing with multiple personal factors at the time, put distance between us.

I knew that hurt her, and that made me feel terrible. I avoided the truth for months, before I faced facts; either I was about to lose a friend for good, or I could be brave and honest about what I was feeling. Sitting down and explaining things to her was one of the hardest, most uncomfortable conversations of my life.

But that conversation, as awkward and soul-barringly vulnerable as it was, made us stronger in the long run.

It's hard to have these conversations behind closed doors. Most of us never do. We pull away instead. We get busy. We convince ourselves it's fine. Or we internalise the distance as personal failure.

In my own life, I've learnt that repair is possible, but only when both people are willing to speak plainly and hear uncomfortable truths without defensiveness.

What these texts show is how rare — and valuable — that kind of honesty actually is.

Lively asks the question many of us are too afraid to ask. Swift answers in a way many of us are too afraid to hear. Neither response is perfect. Neither person is wrong. They're simply two people trying to locate each other again after a shift neither fully controlled.

And maybe that's why this exchange feels so human.

Because most friendship endings don't come with a bang. They come with carefully worded messages, unsent drafts, and the quiet mourning of who someone used to be to you. They come with moments where you realise you miss how someone spoke to you — not just that they once did.

Feature image: Supplied.