TELEGRAM

The phone is in my hands again.

For ten minutes I laid on the bed with nothing better to do but can’t seem to put the phone down. I find my way to Telegram, and I am scrolling through the chats. I see your name, it’s far beneath the rest; it’s been months since I even wrote hello, and I think about texting. It has been a while, and I miss you, but my convictions hold me back. I switch off the phone for the thousandth time.

It’s heartbreaking how distance seems to diminish my drive to connect with you, regardless of how much I care.  

Sometimes I dream, and we bump into each other. My dreams are never methodical or reasonable; wild things always seem to be happening. Still, it stands as a constant reminder that there is someone in my life I haven’t seen or spoken to in a while. I see you, and I remember when I wake up. I reach for the phone and think of your name. Why I still do nothing is beyond me. So once again, the phone is placed flat on its face, and I go about doing other things. 

I wouldn’t say we were best friends, but I believe we were friends. Texting seems like it should be something effortless, yet my worries hold the phone with me. They remind me that I am not too big on conversations, and I wouldn’t even know what to say or how to begin. A simple ‘hello’ shouldn’t be a hard word to type in. It’s not rocket science, but my overthinking mind wouldn’t let me see it that way. It rarely does.

That’s when I start orchestrating the excuses in my own mind. I convince myself that you must be busy or focused on something else, so there is no need to send the message, and the cursor simply blinks up at me, waiting for my next move. I think of all the reasons not to send the message, and even when some don’t make sense, I take it to heart and delete whatever is already written. I push it to another day, then another month and soon another year until the window closes more and more.

I often wonder if you are ever the same. If you think of me, once in a while, and wonder about saying something, writing something. Maybe not, or maybe yes. I like to imagine we are both looking at our names, at the same time. An unsure thumb dangling every so close to the send button, but never quite touching it.

You are not the only one. I miss many people in my life but never have the mettle to reach out. Maybe one day I’ll bite the bullet and leave a message. Knowing me, it would be awkward, but at least I’ll finally say “hello”. 

Then we can catch up as we do in my imaginations. Till then, I’ll scroll along or leave my phone off. Every day I’ll pray that there would never be a day where I say, ‘I wish I pressed send’.