Some distances can’t be closed.
Some people love in a way that doesn’t need passion.
They move at a speed you aren’t built to match,
slipping through your fingers
no matter how tight your grip.
It’s no one’s fault.
Still, it hurts.
I have always lived in the space between
what I felt and what they felt.
That space has always been wider than I wanted.
I was the one who felt more.
Wanted more.
Held on tighter.
They cared.
They loved me back.
But they could exist without the urgency that lived in me.
I have never understood how.
So I chased. Not always in words, or actions. But in feeling.
Waiting for them to see it as I did.
To match the voltage.
And they never did.
Some people move through life with an even keel,
a quiet detachment that leaves them unburdened.
I am not one of them.
I am sharp edges and held breath.
I am the pause before the answer,
the one who remembers what they forgot.
The one who feels a conversation
still, hours later.
The one who stays in a moment long after it has ended.
I know time is an ocean, not a river.
I know the past is just wave energy.
But knowing doesn’t stop me from paddling out to surf it anyway.
I can’t let go of the board.
I have spent my life trying to close the distance.
Trying to make the connection feel even.
Trying to be met with the same depth,
the same urgency, the same breathless need.
I am not okay with the imbalance.
I don’t want to be okay with it.
I don’t want to wrap it in philosophy or call it
beautiful simply because it is true.
I want someone to look across that gap
and reach back with equal force.
Some distances cannot be closed.
But I will keep reaching.
Because I am here.
I have always been here.
And I will keep loving at full voltage—
even if it isn’t matched.