Between the Distance and My Heart
It’s another day, and once again, I find myself here — knees pressed against the ground, heart exposed and vulnerable, waiting. Waiting for a love that seems to have slipped through my fingers, too fragile to hold on to me the way I hold on to it. I whisper silently into the air, hoping you’d hear my heart.
Each passing day feels heavier than the last, as if the weight of my hopes is too much for my soul to carry. I’ve said those words countless times: “Please, come back to me.” But the only response I get is silence — louder than any word you’ve ever spoken. I’ve heard people say, “A no response is still a response.” But how could it be? How could the emptiness between us convey so much? It’s as if the spaces left behind are screaming things I don’t want to hear, yet I keep listening.
How could I give up on the love I promised to cherish? How could I let go of the comfort that once wrapped around me like a blanket? For months, I’ve held on to the warmth of what we shared. I thought that no matter how far we drifted, I could always pull us back together. But as I reach out, I see you turning away, leaving me holding nothing but memories.
I remember the stolen kisses, the quiet moments where words weren’t needed, just the beating of our hearts in sync. But now, it feels like those moments have been replaced with cold, unbearable silence. I’ve tried everything to bring that warmth back, to rekindle the flame. But every attempt feels like it slips through my fingers, flickering for a moment before fading away.
I know you’re not deaf to my pleas nor blind to my efforts. But it feels as if you’ve chosen not to see, not to hear. While I was trying to understand your sorrow, trying to carry it with you, I didn’t realize it was dragging me into a place where we no longer exist — where “us” is just a memory I hold onto alone.
I’ve tried so hard to convince myself that you still love me, that somewhere deep down, there’s a part of you that still cares. Maybe that’s why I’ve turned a blind eye to the absence, to the silence, to the nights I spend without your voice to soothe me. But my heart knows — if you truly loved me the way you once did, you wouldn’t let me carry all of this pain alone. You wouldn’t let the love we once had turn to ice, void of the warmth that once filled us.
Still, those three words — “I love you” — feel distant, as though they’ve vanished into thin air. I can’t feel them anymore, and I wonder if you do. I wonder if you even think about them at all, or if they’ve dissolved into nothingness along with everything we used to be.
I’ve tried to understand you more than I’ve ever tried to understand anyone in my life. I’ve fought to save this bond, fought to carry your pain and your burdens, but it feels like I’m carrying them alone now. I’m bent under the weight, but still, I stand here, hoping. Hoping for a moment when your heart will turn toward mine again.
And yes, I’ve had those thoughts — the ones that tear at me in the quiet hours of the night. The thoughts that maybe you don’t care anymore, that maybe you’ve found comfort in someone else’s arms. They haunt me, these thoughts, poisoning my mind. But deep down, I know they’re just thoughts, just predictions from a place of fear. They’re not the truth, no matter how much my heart wants to believe them.
So, I kiss your photo goodnight, like I’ve done every night. I smile through the pain, because even though we’re distant, even though there’s no contact, I hold onto hope. I know that what’s in my head isn’t always what’s in your heart.
Yes, it’s painful. This no contact, this distance — it’s like a storm that keeps crashing against my heart, threatening to break it. But I’m still here, still standing, still hoping for the sunshine that follows the rain.
At the end of the day, I choose to believe in the love we once had, to believe that it’s still there, somewhere deep inside you. And until the day I know for sure, I’ll keep loving you; keep waiting. Because maybe, just maybe, this silence is only a chapter, not the end of our story.
But even if it is, even if I’m left here loving alone, I’ll rise. Not because I gave up on us, but because I learned that love — real love — lifts you, even when it’s one-sided. And maybe it’s time I lift myself, too, from the weight of all this uncertainty.
So, as I kneel here, heart heavy but full, I’m not weak for waiting. I’m not weak for hoping. It’s brave to feel this deeply and to fight for something that matters. But sometimes, bravery also means knowing when to let go and trusting that what’s meant to be will always find its way back. Until then, I’ll keep kissing your photo goodnight, because in the end, love is love, whether it’s near or far. And mine for you, my love, is endless.
