To edit and humanise: Loving her from far away feels like living between two worlds — the deep sea and the open air. When we're apart, it’s as if I’m underwater. Most days, I move through life like a freediver sinking into the blue: focused, disciplined, and holding my breath. Down there, everything is muted — sound, colour, even emotion. The world feels slowed, heavy with pressure. I remind myself that I’m diving for a reason: to gather the pearls and treasures that will one day shape the life I want to share with her. That purpose keeps me steady. It keeps me swimming. But the deeper I go, the more I must focus. In the depths, there’s no space for distraction or hesitation. Every second is borrowed air. If I lose focus, even for a moment, the weight of distance presses harder against my chest. That’s the risk of loving someone far away — one lapse, and it can feel like drowning. Yet I keep diving because she is the surface. Seeing her in real life again is like breaking through ...