Half the World Away

All of my days are now split into two distinct parts : the hours that I can maybe, hopefully, potentially, possibly talk to him, and the hours that I can`t. During each part time trickles at an incalculable rate, so much so that it becomes virtually impossible to distinguish the standard 24-hour day at all. I`m constantly living in two different time zones ; in two different worlds where one ceases to acknowledge the other. In one my life is tangible, concrete, now. The other is abstract, founded on hope and an incessant longing for something uncontrollable. Both days revolve around luck, chance, fate even, for those who are hopeless romantics. I`ve developed a sort of dependency on all the cables and wires and little invisible connections that magically link us to one another. There is no checking in, there are no calls just to say “hi,” there are no good night kisses or notes to wake up to on the breakfast table. I am the walking, living, breathing example of distance. Distance in time, distance in space, distance in a world that is growing smaller by the second. Some days are too short, some days are too long, my todays are his yesterdays, my future is his present. The world has pulled us apart, separated us by an unchanging invincible distance, only to leave us with a closeness in our hearts that always pulls us back together, no matter how far in time or space we have travelled.