1 Centimeter closer.

Have you ever felt that the loneliest thing in the world isn't being alone, but rather staring at your phone screen, seeing someone's name, and realizing you are both living in two entirely different universes?

We often believe technology brings the distant closer. We convince ourselves that thread after thread of words sent through the air is a sturdy bridge. Yet, looking back, I realize how much of the silence between us was my own doing. I was young, immature, and too caught up in my own world to truly understand her ways. We traded updates, asked trivial questions, and sent meaningless photos, but beneath it all lay a monumental silence we never dared to speak of—a quiet space where I failed to see what she actually needed from me.

We are trapped in the illusion of closeness. We feel close simply because we know what time they wake up, what coffee they drink today, or what song they have on repeat on Spotify. But when night falls and the bedroom lights are switched off, the distance is felt once again. A distance that is cold, quiet, and utterly untouchable.

Signals Lost in the Static

I remember the nights we could exchange messages until the early hours. The screen glowed bright in the dark of the room, reflecting small hopes that slowly crumbled. Behind every tap of a finger on the keyboard, there was something I wanted to say but always ended up deleting. We became so skilled at hiding behind characters.

We thought we were building something. In reality, we were just delaying an inevitable end. I kept typing, sending, reading, and smiling faintly—hoping that somehow, the hundreds of kilometers between us would magically shrink. But my immaturity got in the way of our growth. I expected her to understand my silence, without ever taking the time to truly understand her perspective. Physical distance was one thing, but the unseen chasm of my own making was another. Our souls never lie. The distance never shifted, not even by a single millimeter.

“There is a quiet grief in realizing that the person who fills your days the most is, in truth, the one you can reach the least.”
a draft I never had the courage to send

The Futility of Keystrokes

I was too proud to be honest back then, and too blind to see how tired she was of trying to reach me. We let our conversations stay on the safe, risk-free surface—devoid of danger, but also devoid of soul. I didn't know how to hold her heart; I only knew how to guard my own. And slowly, without us realizing, the warmth evaporated. What remained was merely routine. An unwritten obligation to stay connected, though the essence had long been lost.

In the end, we arrived at this point. A point where there is nothing left to argue, nothing left to explain. Only a silence filled with words that were never spoken.

Even now, I still love you... but I'm sure that even if we had written 1,000 messages back and forth, our hearts probably wouldn't have moved even 1 centimeter closer.