These Missing Wings
If I could reach through the screen and somehow reach you after turning myself into a million bytes, I would do so. Only if this would allow me to be closer to you.
If I could be the one who invents teleportation, I would dedicate all of my hours just to focus on this, even though I hate physics. I would do it anyway not because of the glory but because I miss your closeness.
Flying had never been something I badly wanted, but now I want to know where my wings are, and why I can’t use them to reach you faster.
What is this injustice?
Sometimes, I feel like smashing my phone to the ground, because as much as it brings me closer to you it feels like the only thing between us.
But that’s a lie, isn’t it? We have borders, politicians, pandemics even, which make the distance grow larger by the second.
Relativity is evident as every minute turns into an hour while we are apart.
And after four months without touching you, and many more apart in the future, I know it will be ok.
I might not be data and my back may lack wings. But I have your voice, your words, and our strength. Even your face sometimes thanks to those lagging video calls.
And having us, even in the distance, is so, so much better than the alternative.
I’ll be hugging you later, but I’ll be loving you every day.
