The Saddest Part in a Long Distance Relationship

I always miss Timmy. Even now as I type this and he has just messaged me in Facebook, I still miss him. That is something that will never likely change until we could be together every day to live our introverted lives.

Still, it hurts.

Timmy and I knew before we even decide to have a relationship how challenging a long distance relationship could be as we both had “unfortunate” LDRs before. We were so aware of the difficulties involved that we  vehemently advised each other to avoid LDRs at all costs and stick to dating people who live no further from the nearest supermarket (a very important focal point in any relationship).

As you know by now, we were unsuccessful. Because–as what Romeo and Juliet and gazillions of others has repeatedly shown us–you cannot choose whom you love.

There are lots of challenges with our LDR setting. Sleep was sacrificed lots so that we could spend time with each other. We have to endure Skyping where what you can see of the other person is less like a face and more of a pixelated human-like structure on the screen.

None of those challenges equal to the constant longing to be with the one you love though. Sometimes, even talking to him isn’t enough to fully cheer you up. Because you long to touch him again, to smell him, to see him up close (non-pixelated, HD version)–you wish to fulfill all of your senses’ longing to be connected to him.

The sad truth is there’s no easy fix to this. No shortcuts. It IS a part of the package when you love someone living so far away.

When Timmy and I met up last October, we barely spent time away from each other except when we’re pooping. Or him watching baseball as I shower. That was the best week of our lives. It was so good we both claimed we really could die after that because we experienced so much happiness it was worth dying for.

True enough, we came close to dying at the end of that week. Death from Separation Grief that is. At the airport, we both agreed for him to delay boarding his flight as long we could. We sat there in a café with our chocolate and strawberry shakes trying to think of happy thoughts and holding back tears. We tried hard–Timmy and I are both doggedly determined individuals after all–but we still failed. As the time of his boarding grew nearer, tears started forming (again, since we actually had lots of practice in the week dreading our “parting day”) until it became impossible to hold them back. I hate crying in public. But it was the only thing I can do to keep from going crazy.

Still, I didn’t cry as much as I want to. Need to. I didn’t want to make it harder for Timmy to leave. We agreed to be strong for each other. So with one final kiss, he walked to the boarding gate and I to the taxi waiting area to the other side of the building. I succeeded to put on a brave face until I got inside the taxi, at least. But once inside, after telling the driver where I needed to go, waterworks ensued.

I cried so hard my eyes were red and puffy and I still have irregular breathing when I arrived at the port (I needed to take a seven-hour boat ride back home). I stopped crying enough to get to my bunk, put on the beddings, closed the curtains, and tried to fall asleep. But Timmy messaged me, saying he’s already on the plane, and thanking me for making him so happy, and other thoughts full of love that I just broke down again. Looking at our pictures or videos together was impossible at that moment–the pain of remembering you’re far away again is just too much.

The depression went on for quite a while. The very first day I got back to work from my vacation with Timmy I even cried at work since coworkers kept on asking how it went.

Once you have known what heaven feels like, every day spent away from that would hopelessly, inevitably make you feel a tinge, sometimes an entire raging river, of sadness.

On a Positive Note…

This painful constant longing has a bright side though, and it isn’t just something that Timmy and I try to convince ourselves either. Because of the distance that separates us, Timmy and I appreciate each other more. We appreciate every single second of each moment we spend–we make–with each other, whether it’s talking on Facebook or Skyping or receiving actual physical letters.

We know that when we are finally together one day, we would never take advantage of each other. We would appreciate each other’s presence without need of prompts. We would cherish, treasure every moment we could spend together because we know how painful it is to be so far apart.

Bees Black and White
It’s not very clear but I’m holding a rose here. Yes, he has successfully made me a giddy-er, blusher girl. Obnoxious, really.


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