I haven’t been very good about this transition. I haven’t been as supportive and comforting as I know I ought to be. Sometimes I can hear my voice sound cold, like I’m too busy to talk, and I know that’s not true. But sometimes I just feel angry inside because this separation feels like someone’s mean joke or a bad dream that won’t let up. I’m trying to control that because it’s important for you to know that we’re on the same page here, both feeling the pangs of loneliness and lost identity. But even though I don’t think so clearly at night or early in the morning, I always come back to the same thought about this situation: it’s for the very best. In 10 years — maybe even sooner — we’ll think back to college days and complain to each other about how fast the time slipped past. And it’s not like I’m saying the college “experience” is what makes it for the best; college is our means to a secure future. If there’s anything we can take from this long distance suffering is the affirmation that we aren’t supposed to be apart. We’re supposed to be together. So if that wasn’t already crystal clear, we at least have this time to appreciate it, to value our love for what it’s truly worth. It’s a love so intense that it brings us both down; it makes us lose ourselves to the doldrums of forced routine; it makes us wish we were anywhere else but where we stand — even if that place is Manhattan or West L.A. — because there’s no sweeter happiness than that of being together. That’s something really special. That’s something that doesn’t happen to all long-term couples. It’s very unique, very rare, and very wonderful.

So when I say it’s for the very best, know that I’m saying it with a swelled throat and a runny nose. It’s for the very best because we deserve to have a happy, comfortable life once we’re out of this system. The way we make sure that happens is by doing what we’re doing — pushing on, going to class, and stacking units. And even though I know you don’t believe me, I mean it when I say that it’ll get easier with time. Not easy — easier. But let’s try not to lose ourselves in the process. Let’s try to support each other and stop letting the bad feelings get in the way of our time to talk. Now I’m talking to myself, as you probably already figured. Because you’ve been really good about supporting me through this, Love. You’ve been strong and brave and really quite impressive. Even if you don’t feel that way inside, it doesn’t change the fact. Even if you’ve put up a facade of courage to keep me from going off the deep end during these volatile times, you’re still doing something to be proud of. It’s not about hiding your feelings — it’s about pushing through. I’m so utterly and entirely proud of you and what you’ve accomplished, Love. I’m so grateful that you didn’t let me fall. Whether or not you know it, you helped me in a profound way. But then again, you always do. You’ve always managed to get me on the right track. I just hope I can show you how much I truly, truly appreciate you and everything that you do.

More than that, I hope I can show you how much I love you. Now, I know you know how much I love you, but I really want to get better at showing it. That means not withdrawing when I’m hurting; that means not making you feel like you’re interrupting me when you want to talk; that means I need to make some changes — and they’re things I promise I regret — so that I can try to give back to you some of the unmitigated love and support that you always seems to have for me. You are my best friend, my sweet girl, and my only Love.

Love always,

Kyle

P.S. This blog seems like a good start. I feel better already — like I’ve finally said what I’ve been wanting to say in just the right way.