On distance, on me.

I read an article from Though Catalog, about distance. And I read this, and my insides wanted to burst out.

I wanted a reason to hate him. An excuse to not think about him and stop loving him. It didn’t come. It won’t come. The feelings I have are stronger than anything I’ve felt before. Even though breaking up with me should be reason enough for my anger, I can’t hate him for doing something I could tell he didn’t even really want to do. I can’t hate him for doing what he thinks is right. And maybe this is what true love is, letting him go so that he will realize he needs to come back. My friends tell me that if we’re meant to be together, the time apart won’t change that and we will find a way back to each other.


I have no ending words of wisdom. I can’t tell you that I’m stronger now, or that I will be ok. I can’t tell you that it gets better because right now it just seems to get worse. My happiness still rests on his shoulders. The only thing that his holding me together right now is the thought that maybe in four months when he will realize that he can’t live without me and we’ll get back together. He told me to be positive and that’s what I’m doing, albeit not in the way he wanted me to be positive.


(…) But hope is the last one to die, and that’s all I can hold on to for now, because if I let go of that too, then I might finally collapse.

We both don’t want to go, believe me. 

My friends, if you read this, you may reason out that everything I do for him isn’t worth it. I know that, but I choose to believe that they are. You may not see it in his eyes, but it’s in both of us – the sense that neither of us wants to leave. But we just have to. Sometimes we have to let go. And I don’t know if I should now.



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