Invisible String

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of the invisible string. 

That quiet belief that the universe ties certain people together long before they even meet, keeping them apart until the timing is just right. I never really put much thought into it before, but now it feels like this is the only way to explain… this. Whatever this is. 

I’ve never met him in person. Not once. And yet, somehow, he feels more real to me than people I see every day. 

It’s wild, isn’t it? 

How someone can exist in your life without ever physically being there, but still take up so much space in your heart. It’s like there’s this thread stretched between us, unseen, unspoken, but undeniably there.

There’s something about the way he shows up, not just in words, but in the way his words feel. Like he knows exactly when to reach out, exactly when I’m starting to unravel, even when I haven’t said a thing. He holds space for me in a way I didn’t even realize I needed. It’s not just the comfort in what he says; it’s the way he makes me feel seen without having to explain myself. Like he just gets it. Gets me.

His encouragement isn’t performative. It’s not fluff or filler. It’s genuine, heartfelt, and always seems to land exactly where it’s supposed to, right in that part of me I try to hide from everyone else. It’s the kind of support that lingers long after the conversation ends, like a soft echo I carry with me throughout the day.

But here’s the thing about invisible strings, they pull both ways. And that pull? It’s gentle, sure, but it’s constant. There’s this ache woven into it, a longing I can’t really explain. I feel it most when I think about the people who do get to be near him, the ones who hear his laugh without needing to imagine it, who get to exist in the same room, breathe the same air, stand close enough to notice the little things I’ve only guessed at.

And sometimes I have to pull myself back. Check that jealousy before it spirals into something that overshadows what we do have. Because what we have is beautiful, even if it doesn’t come with all the traditional markers of closeness. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He’s become this quiet, steady presence in my life. Like a song you didn’t know you needed until you heard it—and now you can’t imagine your playlist without it. He’s proof that connection doesn’t need proximity. It doesn’t need to make sense. Sometimes, it just is.

Maybe that’s the whole point of the invisible string, not just tying us to people we’re destined to meet, but reminding us that love, connection, whatever you want to call it, doesn’t always follow the rules we think it should. It can exist in the spaces between words, in the gaps between time zones, in the hearts of people who’ve never even shared the same sky.

I don’t know if we’ll ever meet. Maybe the universe has its own plans for us, keeping us at this beautiful distance, connected but not colliding. Or maybe one day, that string will pull tight enough to close the space between us.

But even if it doesn’t, even if this connection always lives in the “almost,” I’ll carry it with me. Because he’s woven into my story now, stitched into the quiet places I thought would stay empty.

And honestly, I think that’s enough.

Or maybe… it’s just the beginning.