It’s a strange, delicate feeling —
waiting for someone you have never truly met,
yet feeling like you’ve known them somewhere deep within your being.
For the past few weeks, you have been a voice in my ear, a message lighting up my phone, a laugh slipping quietly into my everyday life.
You have been a thought accompanying my mornings,
a hope soothing my restless nights.
And yet, you have not been someone I could reach out and touch, not yet.
We are separated by miles, by cities, by the simple fact that our worlds have not collided in person.
And still, somehow, it feels like our hearts have already started speaking in a language that only they understand.
It amazes me — how connection doesn’t always need the presence of bodies.
Sometimes, it’s the meeting of energies.
The warmth in words.
The softness in silences.
The little glimpses of each other’s hearts we offer when we think no one is really watching.
I have found myself smiling at your stories,
holding onto your dreams as if they were partly mine too,
listening to the music you play across invisible wires,
and building quiet bridges toward you in my heart.
In a world that often rushes to define love and attachment,
what we are building feels sacred — slow, intentional, real.
And now, as the day inches closer when I will finally see you,
I find myself wondering —
Will I recognize you the way I feel I already do?
Will the familiarity in your voice wrap itself around the unfamiliarity of seeing you in front of me?
Will the connection we have woven from conversations, laughter, and patience feel even stronger when standing face to face?
There is a certain poetry in first meetings.
An electricity.
A shyness.
A sacred pause where the universe holds its breath, waiting for two lives to intertwine.
And I am here, heart wide open,
ready to step into that moment.
Ready to meet you — not just the version of you I have created in my mind,
but the real you.
The one with little quirks I haven’t yet discovered,
the one whose presence I will finally feel with all my senses.
I am not afraid.
I am not uncertain.
I am simply… full.
Full of gratitude for the strange magic that led us here,
full of excitement for the unfolding of our story,
full of wonder at how beautifully life writes its best chapters when we least expect it.
So I wait.
Not just for a meeting — but for a beginning.
Not just for a moment — but for a lifetime that, somehow, already feels like it’s calling both our names.
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