There's a boy who lives on the other side of a screen. He's got sandy brown hair and shimmering blue eyes and a thick, fuzzy beard that makes him look older than he actually is.
The boy on the other side of the screen thinks too much sometimes. He stays alone too long and slender-fingered insecurities crawl up his back and slip into his ears. They make him type things he doesn't mean. They make him type things about himself. Bad things. Untrue things.
The boy on the other side of the screen is immensely talented. He can make things with his hands. He can paint. He can write. Creating works from nothing seems to be his greatest skill. Sometimes I envy him for that.
The boy on the other side of the screen reminds me that I'm worthy. He types compliments and praise. He sends heart emojis. He saves encouraging photos and quotes to share with me later.
The boy on the other side of the screen seems like he should be more of a mystery than he is. But I know him. I know him well.
I hope he knows me, too. The girl on the other side of the screen.