Risks

“It is a risk to love. What if it doesn’t work out? Ah, but what if it does.” -Peter McWilliams

It definitely is a humongous risk to love someone, and sometimes it’s a risk that we can’t even control taking. It always seems to start by smiling a lot for no reason and recognizing all the little things and before you know it, you have your heart out of your chest in your hand, ready to give it away, now realizing that the little things turned into a big thing.
I knew from day one dating someone from overseas was going to be hard. That it would be a humongous risk. It would test my ability to trust, become vulnerable, and the risk of possibly getting hurt. It would test my patience, especially to the questions like “how would that ever work?” “are you thinking of your future?” And the judgmental looks that went along with them. But right now I hurt. I hurt at the idea of not being able to see the person I love and simply reach out and hold his hand. I hurt at the uncertainty of the future. I hurt that I left my heart in England and the only thing replacing it right now is the chain around my neck, a silver diamond heart. I hurt knowing that he’s hurting too so there is not only my pain, but his as well. And the part that hurts me the most is knowing that if we had been placed 20 miles from each other rather than 3,738, that it would be easier. Because when we’re together it is easy. It’s completely and utterly effortless. But put almost 4,000 miles in between and things get so much more complicated, when they shouldn’t have to be. It’s getting harder but I’m still fighting. People always said I was a fighter, but a battle like this is something I’ve never fought, and damn, I’m starting to feel weak. Even throughout this hurt, I still feel love, and right now my love for him and his for me is what’s still keeping us going. I just wish teleporting was a real invention. And fate didn’t happen with a 3738 mile added charge.