Feldberg - Dreamin’
ZOLA believes in the delicate balance of ruthlessness and grace.She also likes brunch, kitchen gadgets and boys in suits.
HOLLA ZOLA
This One’s for You
Distance is hard because you never really know when you’ve crossed into the ‘too much’ category. You’d only know when you get there. Mostly we try, we fight it. We feel that if we keep thinking that the glass is half full, somehow it will be. You learn to work with what you’ve got: video calls or text messages? Do I fly out or do you come back? Do we meet halfway? I mean, if anything, distance forces you to be creative. Jamming a month together chock full of activities, with the mentality that you’re storing up the good memories so that you can hit rewind then play in your head the next time that you’re apart.
The worst thing about distance is that it requires so much discipline. If you’re lazy, you’re fucked. When you’re not physically with someone, all the effort that you put in isn’t as tangible. The rewards aren’t as great. So it takes two really crazy kids to agree to take the distance and work it out in the long haul, all without expecting the F word. (Forever.) It’s good life training.
It is exhausting and doubt becomes the supporting character in every thought. And we all know that the truth is, distance is much better at breaking than making. But you still stick with it because the moment that it’s done, when you can finally be together again - you look the other person in the eye and you’ll both know if you’ve made the right decision, if everything was worth it.
That’s all you have to do. Keep focusing on that moment. It’s all an adventure.
Everything was familiar and everything worked. It felt like being sixteen. Carefully crafted text messages so that you were the perfect combination of witty and coy. You lapped up every compliment that you were paid, lip service that ran through his fingers and messed with your head. Stolen moments turned into chosen time turned into had-to-have-it turned into obligation. Much too much like being sixteen. It faded and you faded. He faded. All that was left was an amalgamation of ‘I tried my best’ and ‘I didn’t succeed’. Slowly, painfully, you tear your eyes away from the screen and you shut them tight. You think to yourself, “not again” and all you see in the darkness of your mind are the flashes of the people you used to be.
What’s next?
