I’m Tired of Loving You Through a Screen

There’s a specific kind of insanity that comes with falling in love with someone you’ve never actually met.

Because try explaining that shit to people.

Try explaining how someone you’ve never physically touched can feel more familiar than people you’ve known your entire life.

How you can know the sound of their tired voice.

Their moods.

Their silence.

The difference between their normal “I’m fine” and the one that means they’re absolutely fucking not.

You know what makes them laugh. What pisses them off. What scares them. What they dream about. You know the pieces of themselves they don’t hand out freely.

You know their heart.

But you don’t know what it feels like to hold their hand.

And that fucks with you.

Because somehow I fell in love with someone who exists miles away from me.

Someone I can call.

Someone I can FaceTime.

Someone whose name lighting up my phone can completely change my mood.

Someone I can tell everything to.

But not someone I can reach over and touch.

Not yet, anyway.

And God, I am so fucking tired of not yet.

I’m tired of soon.

I’m tired of we’ll figure it out.

I’m tired of imagining the first hug.

The first time hearing his voice without a speaker attached to it.

The first time looking over and realizing, Holy shit. You’re actually here.

I’m tired of wondering what his hand feels like in mine.

What it feels like to lay my head on his chest.

What it feels like to sit beside him doing absolutely fucking nothing.

Because that’s the part people don’t understand.

It isn’t even about sex.

I’m craving his presence.

I want mundane.

I want grocery-store trips.

I want arguing about where we’re eating.

I want sitting in the same room while we’re both doing completely different things.

I want stealing his hoodie and hearing him bitch about it while knowing damn well he secretly likes seeing me wear it.

I want bad mornings.

Long days.

Random drives.

Falling asleep on the couch.

I want to know what loving him looks like when there isn’t a phone between us.

And maybe that’s why waiting has started hurting so fucking much.

Because eventually, loving someone from a distance starts feeling like standing outside the window of the life you desperately want.

You can see it.

You can imagine it.

You can practically fucking taste it.

But you can’t step inside.

And after enough time, soon stops feeling romantic.

It starts feeling terrifying.

Because what if soon never comes?

What if we spend so much time talking about everything we’re going to do that we never actually get the chance to do any of it?

What if I spend years loving someone I never get to wake up beside?

What if I’m holding onto a future that only exists in conversations?

Those thoughts will fuck with your head.

Especially when you love deeply.

Because I’m not casually waiting anymore.

I’m emotionally invested in a life I haven’t gotten to touch yet.

I’ve imagined the first meeting so many times I don’t even know which version my brain believes anymore.

Sometimes I imagine running straight into his arms.

Sometimes I imagine freezing because suddenly the person I’ve loved through a screen is standing directly in front of me.

Sometimes I imagine crying.

Honestly, I’ll probably do all three.

But beneath all that excitement is fear.

Because what happens when imagination finally becomes reality?

What if he looks at me and I’m not what he expected?

What if loving my complicated pieces is easier from miles away than it is when they’re sitting beside him?

What if the chemistry changes?

What if reality doesn’t feel like the conversations?

And then there’s the fear I almost hate admitting more than all the others:

What if we never find out?

Because I can survive finding out that reality is complicated.

I can survive awkwardness.

I can survive learning each other’s habits and figuring out how two completely separate lives fit together.

I can survive discovering that love in person requires more work than love through a phone.

But I don’t know how long I can survive waiting for my real life with someone to fucking begin.

There comes a point where you don’t need another promise.

You need a date.

You don’t need another soon.

You need I’m coming.

You need effort that exists outside a text message.

Because love can absolutely begin through a screen.

I believe that now.

You can fall in love with someone’s mind before ever touching their body.

You can fall in love with their laugh before hearing it in the same room.

You can fall in love with the way they make you feel safe when they’re hundreds of miles away.

That love can be real.

But eventually?

You need reality too.

Because I don’t want to spend forever loving a notification.

I want the man attached to it.

I want to find out whether all these conversations can become mornings together.

Whether all these “I miss yous” can become “I’ll see you when I get home.”

Whether all these nights staring at my phone can eventually become rolling over and finding him beside me.

I want the boring shit.

The difficult shit.

The beautiful shit.

The real shit.

I want the opportunity to discover whether this love can survive outside the little glowing screen where it started.

And maybe that’s what I’m trying to say:

I’m not tired of loving you.

I’m tired of missing you before I’ve ever even had you.

I’m tired of loving you in pixels and phone calls.

I’m tired of dreaming about your arms instead of knowing what they feel like.

I’m tired of building a future entirely out of words.

I don’t need perfect.

I don’t need some movie-worthy first meeting.

Hell, we’ll probably be awkward as fuck for the first five minutes.

I just need real.

Because somewhere along the way, you stopped being someone I wanted to meet someday.

You became someone I started imagining tomorrows with.

And now I’m standing here with all this love for someone I still can’t fucking reach.

So yes.

I’ll keep believing in us.

I’ll keep believing that something this powerful deserves the chance to become real.

But God—

I’m so fucking tired of waiting for “someday” to finally become today.