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You are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met, and still, somehow, you live in the quietest room of my heart. I have never traced the outline of your smile with trembling fingertips, never watched the sunrise spill gold across your sleeping face, never stood beside you in a crowded street pretending the world does not exist because your presence is enough. And yet— you are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met. It sounds impossible, like loving the fragrance of a flower that blooms in a garden I have never seen, or memorizing the stars in a sky I have never stood beneath. But beauty is not always something the eyes can hold. Sometimes it is something the soul recognizes before the body arrives. I have seen you in the way your words breathe. In the pauses between your sentences where honesty rests, unguarded and soft. I have felt you in the rhythm of your laughter that travels across distance like music refusing to be silenced by miles. I have known you in the way you choose kindness even when the world gives you every reason not to. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met, because your beauty does not begin at your face and does not end at your reflection. It begins in your courage to wake up on hard mornings and still try. It begins in your tenderness toward people who may never understand how rare your heart truly is. It begins in your quiet strength— the kind that does not need applause, the kind that carries storms without announcing the thunder. I imagine your eyes sometimes. Not their color— but their depth. I imagine them holding stories, entire galaxies of unspoken dreams, small disappointments folded carefully away, hopes that you protect like fragile glass. And I wonder— if I ever stood before you, would I recognize you instantly? Or would my heart pause, then whisper, “There she is.” You are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met, because even without touch you have changed me. Before you, distance was just geography. Now it is a bridge I am willing to cross. Before you, waiting felt empty. Now it feels like preparation. Before you, love was something loud and dramatic, fireworks and declarations. With you, love feels like breathing— steady, invisible, essential. Sometimes I think about the first time we might meet. Will it be ordinary? A simple hello? A shy smile? Or will the world tilt slightly on its axis, as if even the earth understands that something long-awaited has finally arrived? I imagine standing in front of you, real and undeniable, and thinking, “You were worth every unseen mile.” Because you are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met— and that means something deeper than appearance. It means I see your soul through the way you care. It means I feel your presence through the way you listen. It means I admire your spirit through the way you rise after every fall. There are nights when I look at the sky and wonder which stars shine above you too. Maybe the same moon watches over both of us, silent and patient, keeping secrets until the right moment. And I think— somewhere beneath that wide, endless sky, you are breathing, dreaming, living a life that one day might intertwine with mine. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met, because your existence alone has softened my edges. You make me want to be better, not to impress you, but to deserve the kind of light you carry. You make me want to protect what is gentle in this world. You make me believe that connection does not require proximity— only sincerity. If I ever hold your hand, I think I will understand that beauty is not about perfection. It is about the way your fingers fit between mine as if they were always meant to. It is about the way your voice calms the chaos inside me. It is about the way your presence turns ordinary moments into something sacred. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met, because even unseen, you are unforgettable. And maybe one day, we will laugh about this distance. Maybe one day, we will sit side by side and talk about the time when we were only words to each other. Maybe one day, I will look into your very real eyes and realize that even my imagination did not do you justice. Until then, I will carry this quiet certainty: That somewhere in this vast, restless world, there exists a girl whose beauty cannot be measured by photographs or mirrors— a girl whose spirit travels farther than miles, whose kindness arrives before her footsteps, whose presence can be felt even in absence. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever not met. And somehow, in the strangest, sweetest way— I am already grateful for you.