Whoever thinks that long distance relationships are a choice has never had to “choose” one. It’s not a choice, it’s a coping mechanism, because half of your soul is missing, and you’re still supposed to act like everything is just fine.
I’ve known Neon (overland-frost) since I was five years old. We grew up together. She used to live next to my grandmother’s house, so I saw her most holidays and certainly every summer. Until she moved. Even after that we still managed to see each other and keep in touch until issues within my family put an end to the visits. By the time either if us realized we were in love, a “normal” relationship wasn’t possible.
There were no spontaneous movie dates for us. No cuddling together on a cold day. There certainly weren’t any birthday dinners or Christmases spent together, and I envy every single person that has that.
Because as soon as there was any hint about us, her mother became convinced that I was some corrupting force on her daughter. Because I’m female. Because I don’t have a penis. And she has been doing everything in her power to keep us apart since.
We’re in a long distance relationship because it is literally all we have, and it is nowhere near enough. I can be talking to her on the phone and still miss her so badly that it is a physical ache. Phone calls, skype chats, they aren’t enough. They aren’t anywhere near enough. You can’t hug a voice. You can’t curl up with text. But these are the only things we have to try and make things even a tiny bit more bearable.
Since she first confessed to me, I can count the number of times I’ve physically seen her on one hand. Three. Just three. And those three times, and the days totaled less than a week, have been the only days I have felt complete. Because I could hold her. Because I could touch her. Simply because I could hold her hand and know that she was there.
Every other time, there is a huge, painful emptiness that eats me up inside. It would be easier if this were a choice. It would be simpler and so much less painful if this was something we had chosen. But it’s not. It’s just all we have. I hold on to it tight because it is all I have of her and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, I wouldn’t give to be with her tonight.
