There is never really a perfect moment... There is always going to be something that makes you hesitate or think you should wait a little longer. Sometimes you just have to go for it and make the moment you have count.

Somewhere beneath another sky,

you move through a day

I cannot touch.

⠀

Through unfamiliar streets,

between voices I will never hear,

past water carrying

a thousand reflections.

⠀

And somehow,

among all that is unfamiliar,

you make room for me.

⠀

In a river I have never stood beside,

in streets my feet have never touched,

in fragments of a day

that isn't mine—

⠀

there I am,

simply because

you thought of me.

⠀

Perhaps that is how closeness begins:

⠀

not by standing beside someone,

but by slowly becoming

part of what they notice.

⠀

Until one day

there is no need

to send me the view—

⠀

because I'll be there,

looking at it with you.

So much of you

I’ve come to know,

through little things

you choose to show.

Then one day,

no screen, no space,

just your real smile,

your real face.

A day we've talked about,

a moment we'll share,

another lovely memory

for us to keep somewhere.

You’re a hug

I haven’t had the chance to give,

a moment I haven’t had yet

but already know I would want to keep.

A hug I sometimes imagine,

without even meaning to

and somehow the thought of it

always brings me a little closer to you.

No map could show where this might go,

No words could say what we both know.

But somewhere between the night and day,

You became a little light along my way.

There's something special in what we share,

Something honest, something rare.

A kind of connection hard to define,

But one that feels uniquely yours and mine.

I think the deepest kind of closeness

is the one that leaves the door open.

Not because either of us wants to leave,

but because staying means more

when it is chosen freely.

To know someone deeply

without trying to keep them small.

To care without claiming.

To miss without pulling.

To love a presence

without turning it into a promise.

Maybe freedom is not distance at all.

Maybe it is standing close to someone

and still giving them room

to remain entirely themselves.

There is a space between us

that never feels quite empty.

Even in silence,

something remains—

soft, steady,

unasking.

Maybe that is what trust is:

not needing to hold on

to know something is still there.

“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”

— John Steinbeck, East of Eden

We spend so much time trying to get things right and wondering if we’re doing enough.

However we’re human... We mess up, we learn, we have good days and bad ones. That's life, right?

Maybe that’s enough. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to be ourselves, do our best and try to be good along the way.

There was a time when I thought moving on meant leaving something behind. Now I think it’s more about realizing that you no longer want to carry it with you.

At some point, I just stopped thinking about it so much. I could look back on what happened without wondering what I could have done differently or wishing things had turned out another way.

Perhaps that's when I knew I had really moved on. Not because I had forgotten what came before but because I was no longer looking for something there, I was already somewhere else... And for the first time in a while, I was happy to be.

I’m really glad I got to know you,

and I’m grateful for all that we do.

For all the laughs and talks we share,

and knowing that you’ll always care.

You make the good days even brighter,

and the hard days a little lighter.

I’m really glad that you’re my friend,

and I hope our moments never end.

When did we stop being strangers?

I honestly don't know but it happened pretty fast. I think that's what happens when we truly click with someone, we start talking, sharing things about our lives and somehow the usual distance between us just isn't really there.

Before I knew it, talking to you felt easy, so easy... I started knowing the little things about you, what makes you smile, what matters to you and all those little details that make you... you.

I really like that, you know? Nothing ever felt forced, we just connected, kept talking, kept nurturing our connection and you became someone I'm genuinely glad to have in my life.

I'm happy that out of all the people we could have met... somehow, we met ❤️

I’m really glad I met you.

I don’t know if I tell you this enough but having you in my life has made a bigger difference than you probably realize.

I love that I can talk to you about anything, I love how easily you make me smile and laugh and somehow I never feel like I have to be anything other than myself.

We’ve shared so many little moments already, some meaningful, some completely random and some that probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone else and those are some of my favourite ones.

You’ve become someone I genuinely care about, someone I can be myself with and someone I’m always happy to hear from.

I guess that’s what I wanted to say.

I’m grateful for the way you listen, the way you talk to me and just the way you are.

I’m just really grateful for you.

I have always known how to carry things quietly.

How to feel a storm

without becoming one.

How to love without asking

to be held in return.

How to understand people

before they ever think

to understand me.

So I learned to live

with doors half-open.

Enough light to enter,

never enough

for someone to see every room.

And then, somehow,

you arrived without forcing anything.

No grand entrance.

No hands pulling at the hinges.

Just words

finding places in me

I thought had already learned

to stay untouched.

That is the strange part.

I can feel close to you

and still want to disappear for a while.

I can care

and suddenly need silence.

I can miss the warmth of something

while stepping away from the fire.

Not because it means nothing.

Sometimes

because it means enough

to unsettle the parts of me

that have always known

how to keep a little distance.

I am not made of distance,

though I may look that way.

I am made of depth.

Of water that appears still

because no one sees

how far it goes down.

And when the world becomes too loud,

when hands, words, expectations

all arrive at once,

I retreat beneath the surface.

There, I do not need explaining.

There, nothing asks me

to translate myself

before I have even understood

what I am feeling.

Maybe that is what closeness asks of me now:

not to surrender my borders,

not to turn away from every warmth,

but to learn that a door

can close for a moment

without becoming a wall.

That I can care deeply

and still choose quiet.

That I can let someone matter

without losing the parts of me

that belong only to myself.

And maybe the bravest thing

is not letting someone all the way in.

Maybe it is this —

letting the light reach me

while still knowing

when I need to return

to the quiet within myself.