Holding Hands Through Pixels

Long-distance love is strange, isn’t it? One moment, you’re laughing through a flickering screen, their voice filling the empty spaces of your room. The next, silence. Just a darkened display, pixels fading into the distance between you. 

You say goodnight, but for them, the night has already fallen—or maybe it’s just begun. Time bends cruelly, turning shared moments into mismatched hours. You miss their touch, the warmth of their presence, the way they smell, the way their voice sounds when it isn’t flattened by Wi-Fi. But all you have are texts, calls, blurry video chats that never quite feel like enough.
People ask, How do you do it? Like love should come with a mileage limit. Like distance is stronger than devotion. But here’s the truth—distance doesn’t break love. Indifference does.
So you wait. You count the days, the weeks, the months. You collect I miss yous like love letters to the future. You remind yourself that longing is proof, that missing them means they are real, that love is not measured in miles but in the patience to endure them.




Because when it’s real, distance is just a season. And love—love is what carries you through.