Toxic Distance

I came to hate New Zealand. It was hard enough to stay in touch with him being only 1000 kilometres away, and now, he escaped even further and made even less effort to stay in touch. In a way, our relationship remained identical - seldom texts, quick photos, no phone calls, yet, I felt that our one-sided connection was coming to an end. As if the bond that I carefully formed between us over the last few months stretched itself up to the breaking point. I missed him even though that was irresponsible. How do I explain unrequited love? Why do I care about someone who never cared for me? Why do I try so hard to prevent the bond from tearing, allowing myself to get hurt and slapped in the face? Or is this bond a plot of my imagination? I knew we were toxic because I felt like drowning in the acid. Yet, I was still forcing my way through the chemicals, mistaking them for medicine, becoming more and more intoxicated. It is as if I wanted that pain -- I wanted to feel drunk on the feeling more screaming than love. I was addicted to ecstasy -- I liked being punished by hell. I can blame the distance, or I can accept I was on the line between love and hate. I am Hachiko. The distance didn't make it easier to find peace and fade the burning emotions. I am hooked on those superficial feelings of warmth even when he is in New Zealand.