Long-distance love isn’t for the faint of heart. When people hear that I’ve been in a long-distance relationship for the last two years, they usually give me a sympathetic look and say, “I could never do that.” I smile, shrug, and act like it is easy, but the truth is long-distance isn’t something I do easily either. It is something I choose everyday, even when it is really hard, even when it feels impossible.
I never expected my life to turn into a mix of time zones, countdowns, and hours-long FaceTime calls. Before this, I didn’t understand what it meant to miss someone so much that even a cloud could make you think of them. Now, I know.
Long-distance love is not dramatic but is far from ordinary. It is waking up and checking my phone before I even open both eyes, texting good morning when half of the day has already passed for him. It is propping my phone against a book so we can talk while I fold laundry. It is staying up too late because that is the only two hours in the day our schedules match.
I used to compare our relationship to every couple around me, the ones sitting in the sun after class, the ones getting food together, the ones who didn’t have to wait for months just to get to spend time together. But long-distance has taught me to stop doing that. Our love isn’t measured by how often we are in the same room or how many pictures we have together. It is measured by the effort and work we put into our relationship, the connection we build from miles away, and the way we choose to be together even when it gets hard.
I won’t pretend it’s all sweet all the time. There are days when the distance feels heavier than a rock. Days when I get upset without a reason, only because I miss him in a way that sits in my throat like a lump. I get jealous of the people who are able to be around him all the time and can see him without needing to plan months in advance.
There are arguments that would dissolve instantly if we were face-to-face, but instead stretch longer because we are separated by an entire ocean. A misread tone becomes a whole misunderstanding, and a pause in a text becomes a potential problem. Long-distance has made me a better communicator, but only because it forces me to be one; it’s almost like a full-time job.
Yet, somehow, despite it all, distance has given me things I never expected. It has made me braver, stronger, softer, and more intentional with my words and actions. When you don’t have physical closeness to lean on, you learn how to show love in ways that require effort and thought. It truly makes you aware of how much you would do for a person you care about.
Reunions are my favorite part. The moment our flights are booked, everything suddenly feels lighter. Knowing there’s a date on the calendar gives me something to hold on to. I only get to see him once, maybe twice a year, and while that reality hurts more than I like to admit, the time apart always feels worth it the second we’re finally together again. Hugging him feels unreal, like my brain forgot what it was like until I actually get to do it again.
Goodbyes are the part I never get used to. No matter how many times we do it, standing at the airport gate, watching him walk away, I feel physical pain. The days after are the hardest, when all the little things we used to do together in person suddenly feel sad and a little lonelier without him there. But somehow, it does get better. Little by little, the routine returns, and the sadness turns into anticipation for the next reunion. And even though every goodbye hurts, each one also makes me realize that we are strong enough to keep going.
Long distance isn’t easy, but there are mornings when I wake up to a good morning text, grateful that we are choosing each other, across the miles and all the missed moments. And that’s what our love looks like right now.
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