The People We Meet Online
There is something profoundly strange about the friendships we build online.
A person can become part of your everyday life without ever sharing a meal with you. You know the sound of their thoughts before you know the sound of their voice. You celebrate promotions, mourn losses, recommend books, send songs, exchange photographs on ordinary Tuesdays.
The miles between you begin to matter less than the presence between you.
And then, sometimes, they disappear.
No goodbye. No explanation. Their account goes quiet. Messages stop. One day they’re simply… gone.
You don’t know if they found happiness, changed directions, became overwhelmed, lost interest, or if something happened that they’ll never have the chance to tell you.
You just never hear from them again.
Other friendships don’t disappear.
They drift.
Life fills with careers, spouses, children, aging parents, new responsibilities, different routines. Conversations that once happened every day become every week, then every month, then whenever someone remembers to send a photograph or ask how the other is doing.
Not because the friendship wasn’t real.
Just because life kept asking more of both of you.
And then there are the friendships that end for a different reason.
Both people are still there.
Both people still care.
But they no longer want the same things.
Neither person is necessarily wrong.
They’re simply walking toward different futures.
Sometimes the most loving choice isn’t holding on.
It’s accepting that what one person needs is not something the other can give.
One day you’re talking every day.
The next, you’re people who used to.
That doesn’t mean the relationship wasn’t real.
It doesn’t mean the laughter mattered less, or the conversations meant less, or that the version of you who was changed by knowing them somehow imagined it all.
It simply means that some people are part of our lives for a season, while others become part of our story forever.
And perhaps that’s the strangest part of all.
Someone you’ve never hugged can leave an empty space in your life.
Someone who once knew the texture of your everyday life can become someone you only think about when a certain song plays, a photograph appears, or a place reminds you of a conversation you once had.
Not because they’re still present.
But because, for a little while, they were.
And sometimes, that is enough to leave a mark that never quite disappears.
A person can become part of your everyday life without ever sharing a meal with you. You know the sound of their thoughts before you know the sound of their voice. You celebrate promotions, mourn losses, recommend books, send songs, exchange photographs on ordinary Tuesdays.
The miles between you begin to matter less than the presence between you.
And then, sometimes, they disappear.
No goodbye. No explanation. Their account goes quiet. Messages stop. One day they’re simply… gone.
You don’t know if they found happiness, changed directions, became overwhelmed, lost interest, or if something happened that they’ll never have the chance to tell you.
You just never hear from them again.
Other friendships don’t disappear.
They drift.
Life fills with careers, spouses, children, aging parents, new responsibilities, different routines. Conversations that once happened every day become every week, then every month, then whenever someone remembers to send a photograph or ask how the other is doing.
Not because the friendship wasn’t real.
Just because life kept asking more of both of you.
And then there are the friendships that end for a different reason.
Both people are still there.
Both people still care.
But they no longer want the same things.
Neither person is necessarily wrong.
They’re simply walking toward different futures.
Sometimes the most loving choice isn’t holding on.
It’s accepting that what one person needs is not something the other can give.
One day you’re talking every day.
The next, you’re people who used to.
That doesn’t mean the relationship wasn’t real.
It doesn’t mean the laughter mattered less, or the conversations meant less, or that the version of you who was changed by knowing them somehow imagined it all.
It simply means that some people are part of our lives for a season, while others become part of our story forever.
And perhaps that’s the strangest part of all.
Someone you’ve never hugged can leave an empty space in your life.
Someone who once knew the texture of your everyday life can become someone you only think about when a certain song plays, a photograph appears, or a place reminds you of a conversation you once had.
Not because they’re still present.
But because, for a little while, they were.
And sometimes, that is enough to leave a mark that never quite disappears.
51-55, F












































