“Trust me, it gets better”

It becomes a problem, in this modern era, when you desire to take a shot of Sambuca (or really, any kind of liquor) at around 930 in the morning. It’s socially unacceptable, a sure sign of alcoholism, and the earmark of a critically unstable personality.

So, that was me this morning.

Thankfully, thanks to some mixture of the above, I refrained from my cognition. (Which I’m quite relieved at as, for certain, doing a shot at 930 would have inevitably lead to impending alcoholism, bankruptcy, homelessness, and eventual demise.) However it did strike me as somewhat odd that I had this desire at all, as I normally consider myself a well-adjusted, stable human being. This was before my boyfriend and I moved approx. 10,500 miles away from each other.

You’ve read it all before, those ‘self help’ tips on how to make your relationship last. For example “Don’t be a jealous bitch”. or, “Don’t forget to communicate.” And you’re thinking, but I am a jealous bitch with horrendous communication skills, bottling up my feelings and never dealing with my father issues. (Surely that’s not just me?)

Thus, it’s incredibly stressful, exhausting (re: getting up at all hours to speak to one’s beloved at the most appropriate time for them) emotionally draining, and upsetting to be in a long-distance relationship. You have to be crazy to embark upon such a relationship, and yet the requirements of said relationship mean you can’t behave like a crazy person, or it all falls apart.

So, while taming my jealousy and hopefully not doing shots in the post-dawn hours of the morning (is it okay if I’m on English time?) I just keep remembering that it’s all worth it, because I really, really, love this guy.


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