Now our “I love you”s come only at the end of fights and sometimes not even then. Too often, I forget that I love him, my thoughts tangled in anger and apathy. I have to remind myself that this is the man that I fell in love with, the only one who’s swept me away and let me taste bliss, happiness, profound agelessness, that I’d found my destiny to be with the man I had loved since before creation, all the things that heaven promised when I believed in it, just to be near him or wake up in his arms. Now we can’t talk without fighting or fight without hurting each other. I’m terrified that perhaps we’ll never be happy together, that our paradigms are too different, that the distance between us isn’t just physical but that it’s driving us apart, that the images we had of each other are too unlike the real person lurking behind them.
This is the man I pledged my heart to, promised to marry, will still marry if we can just wade through the funk of miles (and now oceans) and expectations and finances and frustrations. I have to learn to let go of the frustration and fear that’s built up in our time apart, to fall in love with the real him, and to mesh those dreams we made with the hard, unbendable reality we’ve been provided. A great deal of our problems is that we can’t be who we want to be, not right now at least. Unfortunately, our life together will keep getting put off until August when I graduate (provided nothing goes horribly wrong with my classes, etc.). I don’t know where we’ll go from there. I can only hope that once we’re together, we’ll be able to talk without fighting, getting offended, angry, or defensive, that we’ll be a little closer to being the people we want to be and that we can learn to love within reality.