I miss my friends

15 months ago I left my home and moved to NYC, marking my entry into the most socially disconnected phase of my life. Faced with the formidable foe of newfound isolation, I wanted to hold on to those in Seattle who made me feel like a loved member of humanity.

I felt optimistic that maintaining contact over the phone could sustain the health of those relationships. I sought a sense of social connectedness through digital interaction. I later came to learn that I was asking my phone to serve a purpose it was not designed to provide. Months of weekly phone calls and FaceTimes revealed that interactions over those platforms felt incomplete, that there was more I wanted to experience with the person on the other end of the line.

The phone can suffice when all that's needed is the sharing of verbal information. However, the beauty of human connection is made possible by numerous dimensions of communication, many of which lie dormant over the phone. Even FaceTime, which introduces a representation of the visual, brings us only a step closer to the full experience which remains far away.

When I think about the friends I miss, I desire more than to exchange words or to view them in a rectangle in my palm. I want to be with them.

I want to inhabit a shared physical space.
I want to listen to body language.
I want to admire their outfit.
I want to view their side profile when they are thinking.
I want to hug.

Next week I'll be home for the holidays, where I plan to pack my schedule with seeing friends. Although I know it will drain me, I'm so excited to enjoy the physical presence of those I love.