Pixels Per Inch

She didn't notice him at first,

other faces grabbing her attention, pleading with her

look at them,

appreciate them,

swoon over them.

And she did, how could she not?

Everyone so beautiful, so captivating,

overwhelming.

There were so many of them.

And she wanted to know all of them, their names, their background, their personalities.

She was social like that.

He was among them, those people she tried to study with each quick interaction.

Although, it all felt one-sided - her attempts at being extroverted.

She found out their names, their background, personalities; in awe at each individual.

And yet, she when she had gotten to him

finally,

something sparked, something shone in her eyes, something caused the pulse in her ears to ring louder than before.

Wow, he was good-looking.

Good-looking,

and incredibly smart,

and super tall.

God, he was so tall.

She couldn't find herself ever looking away as he talked,

as he laughed,

as he smiled.

That smile. Those dimples.

She fell, she fell so quickly and so goddamn hard.

Wondering to herself why she never paid attention to him in the beginning, why she chose to stare longingly at someone else.

Someone else who didn't make her chest clench as hard.

Someone else who didn't make her insides twist, melt and smile automatically,

just at the sight of him;

of his smile.

Someone who didn't fill her with as intense of a warmth,

a smoldering fire running the length of her veins;

embers burning, glowing in her chest.

He could make a rough day dissipate in a matter of seconds.

All he had to do was look towards her.

Those intense, dark hazel eyes;

soft when they want to be,

taking in the world

and every wonder it offers.

Every photo he shares,

each experience relating to her own;

interests, passions, hobbies.

Smile, like, scroll to the next photo.

Smile, laugh, like, scroll to the next photo.

The emotions she felt,

feelings she experienced;

all of it was so real to her.

Never has she felt anything similar when with anyone in the past.

What was so different about him?

Was it the fact she's only ever seen his face on a screen?

The fact that she's only ever heard his voice through the speakers of her phone?

Pixels per inch separating her,

making her emotions feel a tad less valid,

less real.

He makes her happy regardless,

regardless if he only knows her among the numbers behind the

"hearts", and "likes", and "retweets", and "cheers".

He helps her to smile,

to laugh,

to love herself.

She only wishes she could tell him,

find some way to let him know.

Pixels turn to the specs of reality.

Where she could reach her hand out,

and only hope he would reach back.

Miles and miles,

feet and feet,

inch by inch.

Nothing feels as far as pixels per inch,

and yet,

nothing feels closer.