i need to just write this down somewhere, so here i am, spilling my heart out on tumblr...
i recently ended a three month relationship - with my first love to be exact. even though it lasted a relatively short time, feelings were immediate and intense, not in a volatile way, just that we were deeply attached and attuned to one another. with both of us being autistic, it felt like i had finally found the one person i could unmask in front of and not feel ashamed; my insecurities he found adorable, and vice-versa.
but the differences were creeping in. he loved with words: 'i love you', 'you're my pretty wife', 'my star.' i felt compelled to take care of him; something i was happy to do, because i love him and felt a deep sense of affinity with him, and the shared fear we had of being too much, or not enough, around other people. but it meant i had to compress myself. to rush to reassure rather than risk upsetting our bubble of love and losing that safe space. to overlook certain incompatibilities and the logistical difficulties of being long distance, in different stages of life and our diverging trajectories.
it ended, ultimately, over a letter. not just the item itself, but what it symbolised; care and effort without immediate gratification. words of affirmation and morning voice messages were easy, low-stakes versions of building the relationship. the absence of concrete efforts to show up for me in ways that i cherished and had clearly communicated to him opened my eyes to the future of our relationship; one where i was doing the planning, organising and emotional labour, while he was unable to reciprocate. where care only showed up after the relationship threatened to break.
love ≠long-term sustainability, especially not an ocean apart.
in long-distance, with the absence of physical closeness, effort is the relationship. it takes two to sustain it; one person cannot keep fanning the flames forever. on the one hand, i'm glad i figured that out early. but even though our relationship ended with no blow-up fight or drawn-out ending, it still hurts.
because it would be easier if love wasn't there. if there was toxicity, someone to blame. but there isn't. the sadness is learning that love is not enough.
my days feel quieter now, without the predictable buzz of the phone, the calmness of the evenings where it was him and i, listening to each others' heartbeats in the stillness of the night. university will feel even lonelier and isolating, and i will have to learn to live with that. but i treasure the three months i did have with him, where everything felt right and sweet, and i experienced what it felt like to be accepted as my true, unfiltered self.
in the future, i hope our time together is something you can look back on fondly.
