I’ve grown used to seeing you in pixels, as you raise your newborns or beers towards the camera. I’ve grown used to having to click and tap in order to find out more about who’s loving you, what you’re eating and where you’re heading to. I’ve grown used to socializing from my office chair. No uncomfortable verbal pauses, no unfriendly weather conditions. Like responsible adults, ones unwilling to get their fingers dirty by digging through the insides of conventional friendships.
All is hygienic between us.
I’ve grown used to having you too far for hugs, and to our days and nights starting and ending at different times. But I’m also used to having you close enough to feel like I’m part of your wedding and holiday plans, my vital approval just one click away.
I miss less every day.
These sterile friendships, lacking flavours and drama, are yet another one of those habits I’ve been fighting all my life, but which I’m slowly accepting now.
There’s no other way. We haven’t got enough time for everything. For everybody. We haven’t got a place big enough fit us all. There aren’t many familiar roads tying us together. All we’ve got are screens and each other, in such new, unusual ways these days.