The way I knew I was and still am in love with him wasn't the most obvious way. It was when I came home from my first semester at college and was experiencing the typical nostalgia that comes with seeing your hometown. I knew then that my heartbreak was real because we never lasted long enough to experience everything that I had ever imagined.

Long distance relationships are all extremely unique. In my case, I met him once in person and we didn't know when we'd be together again. We tried to make it work, but ultimately it crumbled. But when I think about the relationship now, I think of everything we didn't get a chance to do.

I spent a long time romanticizing about driving him through my hometown, as the sweet suburban shopping malls glared back at us in my rearview mirrors. Once we were finally reunited, we'd spend our days dancing in the rain in New York City, but on breaks, I'd show him all the parts of me that made me who I am.

I dreamed about the moment he'd finally meet my parents and when my friends could speak to him in a way that wasn't via social media.

We never did get that, however. We never made it that far. All the time we said that we wouldn't let the distance win and yet, we did. That's perhaps the most heartbreaking part.

So, to my long distance love:

Sometimes I think about our plans. We were going to both move to New York City. You'd have an apartment in the Lower East Side. I'd dorm on campus for a while because I would insist on spending time on learning how to be independent. Yet, I'd store my records at your place because there's nowhere in a shoebox dorm room that I can trust them to be safe, but you wouldn't mind… it was expected after all. I'd take you to my sorority's formal dance and you'd proudly explain to them all how you were prom king. We'd treat each other to dinner so I'd have a chance to put on my new dress. Then, when the night was growing old, you'd tease me for taking off my heels before we made it home because I'd be nearly a foot and a half shorter than you.

When Thanksgiving would come, I'd realize that you were so far from home and this holiday was a foreign concept to you, anyway. So, I'd invite you back to my hometown where you'd finally piece together the parts of me that were missing. You'd learn why I always nearly forget to lock my door. Suddenly, it would make sense why I find so much value out of having one place to live, stationary, despite loving to travel so very much. And since we were out of the city, I would make you lay on your back, face to the cool night air and watch the stars surround us. I'd whisper that I wish I was among them. You always knew I loved the night sky, but you wouldn't truly understand until you looked up and could finally see it how I did. The character I had built for you would begin to crumble aside as my foundation found its way forward, poking through the edges.

Every part of me that I try my very best to hide would become raw to you. I was looking forward to embracing this type of vulnerability and that's how I knew I was in love with you. I wanted to show you the parts of me that I kept hushed, even from myself.

I always dreamed so longingly of driving, which was odd because I hate to drive, but in my mind, since I wanted to give you this tour of my town, it was okay. Being with you made it all okay.

But, when I was speeding down the main stretch in my hometown, I realized that it wasn't the glamorous parts that I was missing the most. It was the simple things-- the being with you. The sharing every bit of myself with you. The laughing with you. The talking with you.

In that moment, I realized that I was actually doing this all alone.

We fell apart and while I knew I missed you, I hadn't realized how truly invested in you I had become until the day that I sat at my favorite local coffee shop and realized we had plans to have you next to me this time. I stirred my sugar into my coffee and thought about how I was learning to fill the place in my heart where you should be with another cup of caffeine.

The very worst part is knowing that we could have had this and so much more. I'll never be able to put into words the way this regret hangs heavy on my heart and being without words is such a novelty to a writer like me. It's the type of feeling that lures me in, begging to take a bite, but no matter how hard I try I just can't get it right.

Maybe it's just the romanticized nostalgia, but I think we could have had this for each other. I think you're the one who would finally get to see who I am. I really do.

I believed in our future and I still believe that home is wherever you are. So, what am I to do when no matter where I choose to reside, it feels like part of me is out of touch?

I moved to the city. Where are you?

Sincerely,

The girl who never got to pick you up at the airport