A year. We've been close-distance for a year.
We've been homeless, he's lived with my family, I've lived with his, and we've moved out on our own to live together.
And every night he comes home to me and I come home to him and it's like magic. There's no blerp sound of skype dropping the call, no rolling over in the middle of the night to reconnect, no time difference to work around, no mocking friends telling us we'll never make it, no one saying this isn't real or telling me I traded a real relationship for "some text on a screen or a voice on the phone".
He holds my hand. And I hold his. He could have had anyone, but he trusted me with his heart instead, gave me a second chance.
Who knew? I never even dared to dream we'd get this far, that we were strong enough, dedicated enough, that we'd both want this enough.... *shakes head*
The most beautiful man in the world loves me. Nothing compares to that.

If we can do this for one year... If we can overcome the obstacles, get through the red tape, scrounge the money, and hold on to each other with everything we've got, for one year. We can do it all over again. And again. And the year after. And it'd still be worth it.

There's no resentment anymore. There's no more fear.

Home is wherever we can be together, and I've been home for a year.
And the moral of this story is if I can do it, so can everyone else!
Bless you all xx