



Alright folks, this is just a friendly Public Service Announcement for you guys: Long distance relationships SUCK.

They suck ASS. They suck the grossest, sweatiest balls you can imagine. They suck… Well, you get the idea.

When the person you love is hundreds or thousands of kilometers away – when you won’t see them again for months and months… You start missing the little things.

The sound of his voice – his real voice, not a static-y one through a telephone. Cuddling on the couch eating pizza. Completely ignoring each other while you sit in the same room playing on your cell phones. Bickering about what restaurant to go to, or what movie to watch…

All those little things you take for granted? Yeah, start appreciating them. Because when they’re gone, you’ll miss them a hell of a lot more than you ever dreamed you could.

But that’s not even the worst part. Not even close.

The worst part is when you need him, and he isn’t there. When you’re stressed or sad or scared and all you want is for him to be there to help you through it… And he can’t be.

When you realize that being tired and sick all the time might not be your niece’s fault after all. When you figure out that the reason your pants aren’t fitting anymore isn’t because of all the junk food. When you remember that you haven’t had your period since the summer, and it’s October.

When you stand alone in the bathroom and your hands are shaking so fucking hard that you have to squint to make sure you’re really seeing those two little lines appear.

When you’re all by yourself in the doctor’s office and she tells you you’re almost ten weeks along already. And even better? It’s fucking TWINS. The family curse continues, I guess.

When your niece won’t stop asking you what’s wrong, and you have to lie to her face day after day. And all you really wanna do is tell her everything and beg her to help you figure out what to do… But you can’t.

When you panic and start researching abortion… You find the number of every clinic you can, but in the end, the thought of it makes you feel sick. And you know it’s not for you.

When you look into adoption, and it seems tempting, at first. But can you really live with letting someone else raise your children? And he’s not there to ask, so you have to answer that question on your own.

When you start thinking of baby names, or wondering who they’ll look like. When you realize that maybe being a mother might not be so bad after all… When you actually start feeling excited when you think of these babies, instead of scared shitless.

And when you remember what he told you, back when his friend’s girlfriend had their son last year. “Jesus, can you imagine? I don’t want kids ‘til I’m like, forty!”

Was he serious? How would he react, if he knew the truth? Would he convince you to end it? To give them away?

Would he leave you if you told him you want to keep them?

And you can’t know, because you can’t tell him. You can’t.

Not yet.

Not until you can do it in person.

Not until you see him again…

In two more months.

And that’s it. That’s the worst part.

The part you can’t tell anyone about.

The part I wouldn’t wish on anyone.