So Maybe Distance Doesn’t Scare Me

For that reason maybe when I looked at you, I knew you were genuine. I saw behind the fuzziness of the Saturday night drinks, often the twinkle in your eye, the way both my friends and your close friends pushed us towards one another as if that would somehow match the longing in our hearts.

So maybe it was simple. Simply no rules. No bullsh*t expectations. Just two people smiling below that Southern California moon, wanting nothing more than their hands interlaced with one another, their voices speaking promises they were almost all set to keep.

So maybe I was fearless. You looked at myself across that crowded bar and I wasn’t wondering if I should run. I was stepping towards you unconsciously. I was giggling. I was loving the way your lips formed hello and my name sounded leaving your mouth.

So maybe it absolutely was easy. Falling into you. Staying up late and also talking about dreams. Breathing in one another’s energy. Imagining any life that would extend far beyond that bar, that will little ocean town, those four bedroom walls.

Which means that maybe tomorrows became today's. And you left to follow dreams while I chased mine, leaving our phone calls to be able to fill the emptiness. So maybe I listened to the sound of your voice, pictured the lines of your cheeks, the exact curve of your smirk.

So maybe I spent our nights crafting out what I would say, while a couple of, 500 miles away you did the same.

So possibly we knew what we were getting into, and we chose all of it the same.

So maybe you’re not here, but that doesn’t matter. Your lips are out of reach but I can continue to taste the longing in my chest.

So maybe this is certainly hard, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Due to the fact I know, we both want this. Because I know I want you actually.

So maybe I close my eyes and you're here. Breathing my air. Listening to the cars pass on that crowded street. Sipping this beer. Buying the next rounded, your arm loosely around me.

So maybe the following isn’t what I pictured when I thought ‘love story. ’ But this is ours, and damn, I hope we retain writing it.

So maybe I can’t hold people at night, you can’t kiss me when I’m falling into a bad dream. So maybe we’re going out with friends on opposite sides of the country, laughing at jokes, wanting to pretend this is fine.

So maybe this is hard since hell. But we’re choosing it, we’re choosing the other person.

So maybe tomorrow isn’t so far away, or the very next time I see you, or the next after that. So maybe we certainly have calendars and plans and ideas that fill web pages.

So maybe it’s not as terrifying as we thought.

So maybe this is what it’s like to know something is real—because whatever’s in front of you no longer compares.