It is amazing how the acknowledgement of distance can traumatize the body so easily. If one is standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, he can gaze out, sit down, run around, et cetera; however, if he decides to peer over the edge at the surging waters below, he will immediately feel afraid. Love is like that, too.
A distance of ten miles separates me and my girlfriend when I am home. If I am not with her, I do not feel worried or scared, because I know I can see her whenever I wish if I give myself about twelve minutes; yet, when she goes to other places--she is currently in Chicago--my entire body shudders like a diabetic after a tub of ice cream. I can't seem to function or reason without her. I try to tell myself that even when she is home, she is still away from me, but my mind knows its own tricks.
The scary part is I think I love her more when she is gone. Not because she is gone, mind you, just because I want her back so much, just to hold her and tell her of my love. When I actually think about it, it isn't my love that is increasing so much as my respect for her when she is here. And to think, I have taken her for granted before. I tell myself now, as I have before, I will never do that again. But, I suppose it is as inevitable as the sunrise. The only thing I know for certain right now is that absence does make the heart grow fonder.