The Comparison

                       I prepared myself this time. Sure, I got up way too early. I held my iPod in my lap as it played the most upbeat, happy love songs in my library. I felt the butterflies in my stomach, the slight smile in my mouth. I watched a million trees and lakes move past my eyes as slow as they could, wishing they'd only go faster. I saw that bridge, and my smile grew wider. I leaned on the edge of my seat, and felt the pounding in my chest. My heart was aching with excitement.

The train ride going up to see you was just the same as all the others, except that I prepared myself this time.

As I daydreamed of hugging you too tightly and kissing you too long for the first time in a long time, I knew that this feeling was short-lived. I knew that it would only be a minute until this train ride would change for the worst, despite that I was staying with you for an entire week. It's funny how time works.

My heart was aching with contentment, and I was mellow for the entire three hours. But I prepared myself. I knew what was coming. I knew to expect it, and yet, it still hit me hard.

Eight days of kissing, holding, playing, hitting, watching, talking, listening, shivering, sleeping, loving, lusting, living...it only lasted one minute. One short minute of bliss and I was going back on that train again. I hugged you too lightly and kissed you too shortly, and then the train tore me from you.

Your last kiss turned the butterflies into a block of cement, and I pressed my hand against my window so you could see where I'd found my seat. The train pulled away and I looked back for as long and far as I was able, catching every last glimpse of you that was possible, until you were gone. You disappeared into a world of trees and lakes that were rushing past my eyes at lightning speed, and I wished they would only go slower. My iPod sang the slowest love songs to me and I looked at our pictures saved to my camera. I saw the city lights and sighed as we went underground. My heart was aching with nostalgia.

The train ride back home was the same as all the others and I can never prepare myself enough for this kind of love. Some people call it long distance, I call it euphoria.