Counting down the days till I see him. Again. For I’ve seen him in my dreams, kissing the crinkles in his eyes when he smiles at me “good morning”. I’ve seen him those afternoons sitting on my balcony when poetry is transmuting into him and words are representing his touch, his eyes, his love. I could use words that weren’t used before, words that were written for him, words that no one else heard but him. For I am his poet and he’s my poem.
Have you ever got drunk with someone’s words? Feeling the ache while devouring them, slipping into your chest, crawling into your heart compressing it and squeezing it not necessarily in purpose but like an inevitable consequence. Have you ever got lost in someone’s eyes? Like they’re some kind of ocean you haven’t yet savor and you long for it and once they are yours, you sink and keep sinking ’till they stop staring at you. Have you ever fallen in love? It becomes your shield against reality. Feeling it, touching it, and yet, yearning for more…’till it tears you apart. If it ever does, ’cause love’s a funny thing, you know, maybe you’re a lucky one. I, sincerely, believe we are. Have you ever felt blessed? It’s how I feel right now. Drunk, lost, in love.
Someone asked me, “What’s so special about him?” And I, innocently, answered, his smile…Making him laugh? It doesn’t matter how or why. Somehow, it was my favorite thing to do. It still is. This simple act of affinity meant the entire world to me. I think I can descry between his smile and his laughter. The sound made by some kind of joy mingled with unconscious impulse. Or even better, a simple smile when someone talks to him from a mellifluous and flawless one when my eyes catch his cheeks upturning and blushing. Simply. Artlessly. Unintentionally.
You may be wondering: is she stupid? If she’s in love, why did she use that title? Here’s why. More than 150.000 messages, 600 phone-calls aka 700+ hours of talking on the phone, 2 years being together, 30 days spent together. I hate long distance relationships. They make me miss him when I need him the most, when I wake up and grab a pillow, cuddle into my sheets like they are some kind of opium to me, a substitute of him and call him ’cause there’s nothing like his voice when he’s half-asleep. I hate them. But, I do love him.
I choose him, for he made me see things I wouldn’t see alone. I choose him, for he makes my heart and soul smile. I choose him, for my love for him is returned, equally. I choose him, for nothing good would ever come if it wasn’t him. I choose him, for distance is just a word now, not a war. I choose him, for I commit myself to the unknown, intrepidly. I choose him, for love is magic growing inside of me. I choose him, for he’s part of my life, my smile, my dreams. I choose him, for I want him. Only him. And I choose him, for I love us.
I’ve been in a long distance relationship before and, darling, the problem is not distance, is trust. And overthinking. “Oh, he lives in another state. Now he’s getting laid with every whore he meets outside. Or online.” Guess what, he can do it whether he lives in the same house with you, or 1000 miles away. Get used to it. If you don’t trust him, what’s the point having a (long distance) boyfriend? You can have anyone else there, but let me tell you something, you will feel the same pain all over again, and again. Thus, don’t question his loyalty. Question your love and your faith in him.
Distance is a commitment. Distance is a choice you make every day because he makes your soul smile and your heart blossom with joy. That applies to him as well. That’s why you’re together. That’s why long distance relationships exist. The end.
Submitted to ArtParasites by Cassiopeia Demise