We’ve been through so much. On our worst days, there’s a 1,000 miles between us, but never once has that given me the slightest pause. I love every single thing about you. And while I know the tone of this letter seems so negative, I want to assure you now that this is NOT me breaking up with you, this is NOT me admitting to something terrible I’ve done, and this is NOT me asking you to change for me, even though I know you already have.
When I first started talking to you, I never would have guessed that the love of my life was sitting on her computer, 1,000 miles away, and that three years later, we would be where we are. We had our ups and downs for the first few years, namely, dating the wrong people simply because they were the people who were there, but we made it through it. And even though it killed both of us when the other would come for relationship advice, we both toughed it out and did it, because we were only looking to make the other happy, even if it meant it was with another person.
Our timing was exceptionally awful, too. When you were single, I was taken, and vice versa. Neither of us was ever completely willing to give up what was easy for what was meant to be. But, eventually, we fixed that problem. I was single, and so were you, and we decided to give it a real try.
A few months later, you were on a plane to New York to visit your dad, and I decided I’d waited long enough to meet you. I hopped on a bus, and rode the twelve hour ride from Pittsburgh to New York on the off chance that the girl I’d find there was worth it. And, after 12 hours on a bus, 6 blocks walked in an unfamiliar city, carrying a laptop and suitcase full of clothes through Harlem with a dead cell phone and only a vague prayer to warn off muggers, I found you.
I knew that very second that I would marry you. I knew from the moment you stepped out of the car and crossed the space between us that we would be able to beat anything life threw at us. We had an amazing weekend. We seamlessly transitioned from being a ringtone in each others’ pocket to being a person in each others’ arms and we both knew we would end up together, hell or high water.
Then, I came to Florida for your birthday 3 months later, and it was as if the three months apart had never happened. We were and are so in love, and it’s as if every mile traveled has only served to make us love each other more.
We’ve been together a few more times since then. You came to visit me in Pittsburgh, and then I went to visit you for your prom, and then we had two glorious weeks together after you graduated that simply wasn’t enough. We even bought a new departing ticket as proof of that.
But now, you’re in college, and it’s the exact same situation that ruined my previous relationship that I had been so sure was “right.”
I’m not entirely…right. I have severe abandonment issues. I have to constantly prevent myself from being passive aggressive, and I don’t succeed all the time. And, on top of that, I suffer from social anxiety so terrible that I don’t even need to be in a social setting to suffer panic attacks.
See, I found you, and you’re all I need. When we aren’t together, I could spend every single night of my life on Skype with you, talking about the next time we’ll be together, and I’d never feel like I was missing a thing. You, and every other normal person on earth, can’t. And, here’s the kicker, when you decide to go out and not spend a night talking to me, I get so upset at you that I sometimes have to simply not talk to you for fear of saying something that might ruin your fun.
You know the things I’m not comfortable with, and you don’t do them. I trust you on that, and that has nothing to do with it at all. It’s this feeling. Sitting here. Waiting. Watching my phone, Skype, the computer screen, anything to keep me from thinking that there was something, ANYTHING, that was more important than the two of us talking. It’s especially difficult when you come home afterwards, and I get exactly what I’ve been waiting for, you sign on Skype, and all you want to do is tell me how much fun you had and all about your night and how much you love me, but I can’t do anything but fake interest because, in the back of my head, I’m thinking, “How could you have left me like this?”
But I’m not really asking you that question, am I? I’m asking the family that disowned me, the father that died of a drug overdose, the girlfriends that never put me first like you did, and I’m taking all that anger and I don’t have anywhere else to put it, so it sits there.
I guess, what I’m asking you to do for me, is to please, please be patient with me. I know you know something is wrong with me, and I know you love me enough to not run, but to want to help.
You’ve given so much for us, and I could never ask for more than that. I’ll figure this out, and everything will be better again.
I love you more than anything, Olivia.
You’re future husband,