In the quiet aftermath of a long-distance breakup, the heart often lingers in a space between what was and what might have been. Now, this is where I was until a while back. 
 
Distance, that silent thief and my worst enemy, stretches for miles into emotional chasms, turning promises into echoes.  
Many of us have loved across cities, states, or even oceans, fueled by late-night calls, endless texts, and the hope that love could conquer logistics. I would say this was an experience in itself, digital dates, hobby-sharing, and much more.  

 

But when it ends, the pain feels amplified: not just the loss of a partner, but the unravelling of a future built on video screens and planned visits. The lingering effects can be profound waves of loneliness, doubt, and a grief that delays because the daily routines barely shift.  

Yet, in this raw vulnerability lies a chance for growth, if we navigate it with care. 

  

BLAME IT ON THE DISTANCE? 

My eyes make me want to see the kind of things that my heart yearns to see. I don't know who to blame here, as the pain deepens with time.  

The idea of distance has finally gotten to us, probably? Or maybe we are the epitome of a forbidden love story? Well, no wonder I have long hair. What kind of forbidden's are we? The incompatible ones? The teenage lovers? Or the eternal who spoke of growing old together and reading our love letters under the tree? 

It was always us against the World, well,l why does it feel like there is only me now? Are we gonna blame it on the distance? Well, of course, we are because you and I are meant to be, despite all the horoscopes, astrologers, planets and stars that the saints speak of.  

 

Maybe Shakespeare was right when he said: "The fault is not in our stars but within us". I don't want to love you anymore; I want to breathe you into every intricate detail of my life. I want us to be more of us together than one being dominant or submissive.  

I want us to blend in like air and clouds, where it presents us with the night sky and soothes the weather for that romantic night dinner on our front porch, gazing at the stars. And I tell you they are twinkling, and you tell me, "Sure they are," looking at me. I've kept you so alive in my writing than I have in real life, and… damn that distance. 

Yet here I am with a heart still strongly in love with you, waiting to embrace your arms and never let go, hoping that one day all this madness would make sense, and I told myself that so what if it's forbidden, that doesn't mean it can't happen. 

 

Yet here I am, sitting and still trusting love to travel all these miles and return to our old ways of loving each other. What is this old way? How different is it now? What changed, or a better question would be who changed? 

Maybe none of us did; it's just that all this surreal way of love, or the kinds of constructs and systems we live by, let them corrode us in the name of "appropriate".  

We are all socially consumed, yet we have to face our demons at the end of the day and wake up to have made it through with a new beacon of hope, and then become puppets to our masters in this play called life, where, as Shakespeare said, we are all mere players. 

 

We will be the maestros of our symphonies and melancholy, composing them and listening to them, waiting for our freedom to be tasted from all kinds of opposition, from man to matter. 

So, undoubtedly, we wrap ourselves and keep ourselves safe and protected in our dreams. What do you do when these dreams become the worst of your nightmares? Do you still keep them safe? 

You'll be the love I'll always yearn for and the feeling my heart aches for. 

You'll be the memory that chokes me with glistening teardrops in my eyes when you've gone far-far away. 

You'll be the dried ink to the quill of this poetess in solitude. So let's blame it on the distance, as it's safe that way. 

 

 Healing After the Miles Fade 

 The ache doesn't vanish overnight. Long-distance breakups can leave lasting imprints, heightened loneliness from the lack of physical presence, trust issues lingering from miscommunications over texts, and a delayed grief because life didn't intertwine daily.  

Many feel lingering sadness, anxiety, or even depressive symptoms that disrupt sleep, appetite, and joy in routine activities. 

Yet, healing is possible. Here are gentle measures to help you resonate and rebuild: 

• Allow yourself to feel: Suppress nothing, cry, journal, or talk it out. Acknowledging the pain is the first step to processing it. 

• Lean on your circle: Reconnect with friends and family. Share your story; their presence can ease the isolation. 

• Prioritise self-care: Move your body, eat nourishing meals, and rest. Small routines rebuild stability. 

• Set boundaries digitally: mute or unfollow if needed. No contact helps the heart detach. 

• Reflect and grow: What did this teach you about your needs? Use it to foster personal strength. 

• Seek support if it lingers: If sadness deepens or persists, talk to a counsellor. It's a sign of courage, not weakness. 

In sharing these words, remember: awareness of your emotions is key to recovery. Prioritising your safety, emotional and mental, comes first.  
 
At iDare, we believe in daring to heal, daring to seek help when the weight feels too heavy. If this resonates, reach out for professional support. Your mental health matters; you're not alone in this journey. 
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