We’ve all been told that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But in actuality, we all know that long distance sucks. It just sucks. We at the Clog are extremely empathetic with those of you grappling with this issue. To show you how much we care, we’ve decided to produce a love letter depicting a quintessential long-distance relationship between two UC Berkeley students — one on Southside and the other on Northside:
My beautiful Bancroft babe,
It is 11 p.m. and eerily quiet on this side of the world. I have been embracing my pillow all night, pretending it is you that I am holding. I know it is hard — the Skype calls that replace dates and the “I miss you’s” instead of warm embraces. They say long-distance relationships never work, but I believe that with us, the miles between us are but a number. I believe that our love can conquer this cruel test of emotions.
I walked by our rendezvous point in between the Main Stacks bookshelves today, and I was struck by a wave of longing for you. I had an intense need to pen something — anything — to properly express my love for you. For this reason, I wrote this free-verse poem. (Remember: I am not an English major, nor have I ever taken an English class at UC Berkeley. Those buildings were too far.)
Our bodies spatially separated,
Our interactions temporally far apart,
Nights spent on our phones,
Wishing we were together.
Oh, how I wish you were here with me …
Instead of living on Southside.
You go to Montague’s.
I’ll be your Capulet, babe.
I pledge loyalty to Stuffed Inn,
But no sandwich can stuff me the way you do.
You say Asian Ghetto.
I say Gourmet Ghetto.
It doesn’t have to be fancy,
Just as long as I’m with you.
You want Yogurtland.
I crave Menchie’s.
But you’re still my favorite flavor.
You return to boisterous Telegraph.
I trek up to tree-lined Euclid.
Your nights tinge with the sound of sirens.
Mine are hauntingly quiet.
You spend hours getting lost in Dwinelle,
But all I want to do is get lost in your eyes.
I spend eternities in Soda,
Eternities I would much rather spend with you.
Your neighbors philosophize about the arts and Reich.
Mine speak passionately of Python and Hilfinger.
You have adopted Cafe Milano as your second home,
And, I, Brewed Awakening.
So linked by our addiction to coffee,
So torn apart by the bearings of our dealers.
I must see you right away.
I can’t take it any longer …
Let’s just meet at Starbucks.
With love from Northside,
Your distant darling