Creative Nonfiction: A bond of words

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(Edited)


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   Is it possible to fall in love with a person you only know online? If I had heard this question eight years ago I would have laughed. Back then, I was not so attached to screens and my social life was relatively normal. However, after moving to my current residence everything changed, because when I arrived here I only knew my relatives. Although I went out for walks from time to time and attended university for a while, I didn't socialize with almost anyone and lived more on the internet than in the real world.

   This happened five years ago, on a social network that no longer exists. I don't remember which of us was the first to comment on the other's publication, but that's how our relationship began. I was reading her, a poet and writer whose lyrics didn't seem to be of this world, and she was reading me, an aspiring writer who wanted to eat the world when he was still committing spelling mistakes due to his ignorance.

   The first time I wrote to her privately was to ask for help with an attempt at a novel I was writing and she helped me correct several things. Then she showed me one of her poems and I fell in love with her writing. Days went by and without realizing it, we began to spend hours talking about books, music, movies, poetry.

   We would talk until the wee hours of the morning. We didn't always agree on what we thought about certain topics, but these differences served to debate and enrich our conversation. However, it was not a healthy relationship.

   Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing or it just had to be that way, but we were so depressed that we often fell into that theme. Neither of us had an easy life and, in a way, we were like the chicken that the more it digs the more dirt it throws on itself. I resorted to escape routes that created new prisons and she acted with total indifference to the more relevant things going on in her life. As if it didn't matter what we felt. As if none of it caused us pain.

   We showed each other several of our scars and without being close to each other we could touch them, feel them and experience them firsthand. But it wasn't just she and me. There were shadows around her and sometimes they mattered more than our friendship. Those shadows consumed her, demanded everything from her, left her tired, and then she would come back to me to tell me about her exhaustion, the boredom, the weight of existence, the meaning of living empty.

   She would say she was dead, that she felt nothing, but her writings, her way of seeing the world, the way she talked about books, how much she loved cats and how much she enjoyed nature, gave me the assurance that she was alive, only that there was no warmth in her life, but coldness, indifference, disdain, mistreatment, inconsideration. I, on the other hand, despite my situation, wanted to give her all that warmth she needed, to embrace her even if she was more like the stem of the rose than the flower, to be poisoned by her pain, to live it to the fullest, to cry and scream for her if necessary. I cursed every night that I knew she was suffering, that something was wrong with her, that she was sad, down, because I could do nothing to change it, no matter how hard I tried.

   I don't know how or when it happened, but I felt a connection between the two of us that went beyond the screen, something that bordered on the spiritual and held our souls together. Perhaps, I was being overly romantic or dramatic (I always have been), however, that was how I felt and I wrote her several poems where I let her know, with the intention of making her fall in love, just as she had made me fall in love with her verses and her stories, which were not romantic but showed great intelligence, sensitivity, and writing skills.

   However, we both knew that our thing wasn't going to last a lifetime, that we weren't really living, and that we needed to get out of our bubble and share with people we could see, hear, smell, and touch. We needed to get away from the screens and get back to our lives, to appreciate what the world has to offer.

   I took the first step but in the worst way. I stopped writing to him, I didn't enter that social network anymore, I disappeared from the internet and I didn't even tell him I would be back months later. Deep down, I was also tired. The distance between the two of us was so great that I couldn't go visit her to meet her and that frustrated me. Despite what I felt, I was aware that we were just friends and, at the same time, strangers, and that we might never see each other in person.

   I forgot about "everything" and went on with my life, although I thought about her almost every day. During that time, I met another woman in the real world and started dating her, but the memory of the previous one would not go away and I failed to connect with this new person. I felt like a jerk, ended the new relationship and wrote to my friend again after almost a year of not hearing from her sure enough. Unsurprisingly, she turned me down, said things I deserved to hear, and I was on my own again.

   At least, that last time, we were able to say goodbye.

   Currently, I have more than three years without knowing about her existence. I don't have her in any of my social networks. Blocking her and not knowing more about her was the best thing I could think of to forget her. I couldn't bear to see her posts after that cold goodbye; even so, I still have some of her old writings.

   I only hope she is well, writing daily, free of the pain that lacerated her soul.

   If I think of her, I imagine her with a pile of poems or stories to be published, looking for a publisher. I see her cleaning the lenses of her glasses before concentrating to play the keyboard and interpret a score. I hear her laugh at some meme or notice that she is once again hooked on a good movie. I see her a little sad because she has become too attached to the character in her play and he is having a hard time. I hear her fingers brushing the pages of a book as she reads. I hear her talking to her cats, even if she seems crazy. I see her quiet, full of peace, appreciating the beauty of nature or being lost in her thoughts.

   And if I can't sleep after that, I feel a tightness in my chest and write something for her. Even if she never reads it or I never dare to publish it. Even if it makes no sense.


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• Photographs: I, II, III.

• Graphic resources: I, II.

• Design: Photoshop CS6.

• Translation: Deepl (free version)

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15 comments
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This is an honest tale which leaps off the page with vivid descriptions. The shared connection of writing is something that is likely to resonate with many readers here. This is a stunning read, which lingers, each line building wonderfully on the last. Thank you for sharing your story with us, and for your thoughtful engagement with other members of the community.

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Writing it has been difficult, I don't feel quite right telling that story. Thank you for your appreciation and support. Regards.

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A very intense story with so many intricate feelings. It must be the most frustrating thing to meet that wonderful person who moves our world and return to the cold reality where you can't touch each other. Excellent story, thanks for sharing.

Good day.

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That's right, my friend. The most frustrating thing was that. Thanks to you for reading and commenting. Regards.

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The story is excellently penned down. It's hard to let go of someone with such a level of connection. However, one needs to live the reality of what is playing out.

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Exactly, you can't live glued to the screen all the time. Thank you for your appreciation and comment. Best regards.

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I am impressed by how, being on the outside, we recognize when a relationship is toxic. It's very different when we are inside: we don't see the toxic anywhere. I was also in a toxic relationship and it was hard for me to get out of that relationship, but after I did, I felt that I had left a terrible weight that was weighing me down. For this type of relationship, the best thing is distance and time. And if we remain with the same feeling, we double the dose: more distance and more time. Greetings, friend! And I was fascinated by your text.

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Time has allowed me to see that we were both wrong in many ways. Perhaps, after all, the best thing that could have happened to us was that the relationship ended. Thank you for your words, dear friend. A hug.

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A connection on screen but a connection nonetheless. Beautifully told and sadly ended. Sometimes a connection can become toxic if we let it linger on and the only good we can do for ourselves is to cut off more importantly with good understanding and closure which eventually happened though on a sad note.
A friend I connected with so beautifully and communicated at length cut off from me on such a bad note as such leaving me wondering what could be wrong with me. He contacted me after several years and married though having issues in his marriage to state that he felt we were going nowhere at the time but has regrets now. I advised and encouraged and we moved on soundly with closure this time.

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It is a mistake to disappear just like that, we will never know the damage we can cause to the other by withdrawing without saying goodbye. That became clear to me with this experience. At least he wrote to you some time later and they were able to clarify several things. Even if they are screen connections, the feeling can be just as strong as that experienced in other interpersonal relationships. Thanks for reading and commenting. Regards.

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