Rafe is coming today - all the way from Oregon to see me. He’s flying for the first time; he’s traveling over 3,000 miles; he’s gone pretty much broke because I love him, and he loves me, and we love each other.
We love each other, but we’ve never met each other. It’s strange and heartbreaking. You miss someone you have never felt nor have seen face to face. Do you really know someone until you’re with them completely? Can you be sure you’ll want to be with that person forever until you walk side by side?
I’ve never felt more sure in my life about something - that I love Rafe. You can say I’m naive. You can say I’m stupid. You can say I’m unrealistic.
I’m an idealist. I won’t deny that. I believe in things I cannot see. I believe in the person I love. He’s the most real to me.
What is also real is that love, unconditional love, romantic love, HONEST love -the kind of love that stands up against bullshit from you or anyone else - the kind of love that fucks you against a wall and calls you a nasty bitch - the kind of love that watches unphased as you go au naturel like a woman raised by gorillas - the kind of love that is reliable, undeniable and keeps surprising you everyday.
It’s REAL love.
It’s the kind of love you never knew existed, and now you wonder how you could’ve missed it.
In the end, I’ll always love Rafe, if not for who he is, for what he’s done. He makes me work harder, laugh harder, love harder. He has made me fall in love with the world because he’s in it.
When we finally touch, I don’t think anything could be more realistic to feel than love.
My biggest ever regret is falling in love with someone 3,000 miles away. They broke my heart and wasted a full year of my life, leading me to believe they loved me back and would always look after me. It was all a lie.
“If you want to have feelings of superiority to me well and good as long as I do not have to have feelings of either superiority or inferiority to you - There can be no such thing between serious writers - They are all in the same boat. Competition within the boat - which is headed toward death - is as silly as deck sports are - The only competition is the original one of making the boat and that all takes place inside yourself.”—Ernest Hemingway in a letter to rival F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1929, qtd in The Frenzy of Renown: Fame and its History (1986) by Leo Braudy, p. 545 (via underthepile) (via lifeserial)