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Long Distance Breakup: Writing the Farewell You Both Need

·10 min read·2666 words

Why Long Distance Breakups Feel Incomplete

There's something uniquely painful about ending a relationship with someone you can't see. No final hug. No last look into their eyes. No moment of physical goodbye that marks the ending.

Just... distance. The same distance that was always there. Except now it's permanent.

You can't "just talk in person." You can't drive to their place to get your things back. You can't run into them at the coffee shop and have that awkward-but-clarifying moment six months later.

The relationship ends in text messages. Or a phone call. Or a video chat where you both cry into your respective cameras, miles apart.

And somehow, that makes it harder to believe it's really over.

Long distance relationships exist almost entirely in words—texts, calls, video chats, letters. So when they end, it makes sense that words are how you find closure.

Not words sent to them. But words you write for yourself. A permanent farewell letter that gives you the ending your heart needs, even if you can't have it in person.

What Makes Long Distance Breakups Different (And Harder)

The Lack of Physical Closure

When a geographically-close relationship ends, there are physical markers:

  • You pack up your stuff from their apartment
  • You avoid the neighborhood they live in
  • You see mutual friends and awkwardly navigate who gets which social circle
  • You might run into them months later and see how they've changed

Long distance breakups don't have these markers.

Your ex is still thousands of miles away, just like before. You're still in your apartment, just like before. The only thing that changed is... the talking stopped.

Without physical separation, your brain struggles to accept the emotional separation. It feels abstract. Hypothetical. Like maybe if you just texted them right now, everything would go back to normal.

The "What If We'd Been Closer" Trap

Long distance relationships often end with a specific question haunting you:

"Would we have made it if we'd lived in the same city?"

Maybe you broke up because the distance was too hard. Or the end date kept getting pushed further away. Or one of you couldn't handle the uncertainty anymore.

But the relationship itself—the emotional connection, the love, the compatibility—that all felt real. So you're left wondering: Did the relationship fail? Or did the distance fail?

That ambiguity makes closure harder. You're not just grieving what you lost. You're grieving what could have been if geography had been different.

The Temptation to Stay "Friends" (Because What's the Difference?)

When you live near an ex, staying friends often doesn't work because you have to see them. At events. With new partners. In all the ways that make moving on impossible.

But with a long distance ex? You're already not seeing them. So why not stay friends? Keep texting? Check in occasionally?

Because that "friendship" often becomes a slow bleed instead of a clean break.

You're not moving forward. You're hovering in this ambiguous zone where you're not together, but you're not fully apart either. And every time you text, you reopen the wound just a little.

The Distance Closure Letter Framework

This isn't a letter to send to them. It's a letter that acknowledges the unique pain of long distance endings and helps you create the closure you can't have in person.

Step 1: Acknowledge the Distance (Physical and Emotional)

Start by naming what made your relationship—and your breakup—different.

What to write:

"We loved each other across [number] miles.
We fell asleep on video calls. We counted down days until visits.
We built a relationship in phone calls and texts and shared screens.

And now we're ending it the same way—across distance,
without being able to hold each other one last time."

Real example (anonymized):

"1,847 miles. That's how far apart we were. I can tell you exactly, because I checked the distance calculator obsessively, especially during the hard days.

We fell in love across time zones. You'd send me good morning texts when it was already noon for me. I'd send you goodnight voice notes that you'd wake up to.

We planned our lives around plane tickets and vacation days. Every visit felt like borrowed time—counting down the days until you arrived, then counting down the days until you had to leave.

And now we're ending it the way we lived it: across screens, across miles, without the physical goodbye I desperately need."

Why this matters: Long distance relationships have a different texture than geographically-close ones. Honoring that difference validates your unique grief.

Step 2: Celebrate What You Built (Despite the Miles)

Long distance relationships are hard. If you made it work for any amount of time, that's an achievement worth acknowledging.

What to write:

"We built something real, even though we couldn't touch it.
We chose each other every day across miles that would have
broken weaker connections. That meant something."

What to include:

  • Specific memories that felt intimate despite the distance
  • Ways you made it work (care packages, surprise visits, creative date ideas)
  • The commitment it took to stay connected
  • What you learned about love and effort

Real example:

"Remember the night we watched the same movie at the same time, over video chat, eating pizza from our respective coasts? You paused every time I needed to grab something, and we spent more time talking than watching. That felt more intimate than most 'real' dates I'd been on.

Remember the care packages? The way you'd send me your favorite local coffee, and I'd send you books I thought you'd love? The Post-it notes hidden in the pages?

We made it work in ways that required more intention than most couples ever show. We had to actively choose connection every single day.

That wasn't easy. But we did it. And even though it's ending, that effort was real."

Why this matters: It's easy to diminish long distance relationships—to think "we were never really together anyway." This step honors the reality: You were together. It was real. It just ended.

Step 3: Accept What Couldn't Survive the Distance

Now comes the harder part: Naming what the distance took from you. What it cost. Why it ultimately wasn't sustainable.

What to write:

"The distance took [specific things].
It made [specific ways the relationship suffered].
And eventually, it became too much."

Common distance-related issues:

  • Physical intimacy (or lack thereof)
  • Different timelines for closing the distance
  • Financial strain of travel
  • Jealousy or insecurity (not being able to see their daily life)
  • Different life stages or priorities emerging
  • The emotional exhaustion of always saying goodbye

Real example:

"The distance took spontaneity. We couldn't just decide to grab dinner or comfort each other after a bad day. Everything had to be planned, scheduled, three months in advance.

It took physical touch. I haven't held your hand in six months. I couldn't hug you when your dad was in the hospital. You couldn't just show up when I was having a breakdown.

It made me insecure in ways I hate. I'd see your Instagram stories and wonder who that person in the background was. I'd go days without hearing from you and convince myself you were pulling away.

And eventually, the end date kept getting pushed further away. 'Six more months' turned into 'a year' turned into 'I don't know when.' And I couldn't live in limbo anymore.

The love was real. But love alone couldn't bridge 1,847 miles indefinitely."

Why this matters: This step separates "the relationship failed" from "the situation was impossible." That distinction helps you grieve without blaming yourself or them entirely.

Step 4: Release the Fantasy Version

Every long distance couple has a fantasy: "When we finally live in the same place, everything will be perfect."

But that fantasy kept you going, and now you need to let it go.

What to write:

"I release the version of us that finally lived in the same city.
The one where we [specific fantasy].
That future isn't coming. And I need to stop living in it."

Real example:

"I release the version of us that finally lived in the same city. Where I'd wake up next to you instead of to a text. Where we'd have lazy Sunday mornings and grocery store runs and all the boring, beautiful mundane moments we never got to have.

I release the fantasy where you moved here (or I moved there) and we got a dog and hosted dinner parties and became that couple everyone envied.

I release the engagement ring I imagined you'd propose with someday. The wedding we'd planned in my head. The kids who'd have your eyes and my smile.

That version of us doesn't exist. It never did. It was a maybe, a someday, a mirage that kept me hopeful through the loneliness.

But I can't live in that fantasy anymore. It's time to let it go."

Why this matters: The "someday when we're in the same place" narrative can keep you emotionally invested long after the relationship ends. This step closes that door.

Step 5: Choose Your Permanent Goodbye

The final step is choosing to make this ending permanent—not by blocking them everywhere (though that might help), but by writing a letter that exists forever as your goodbye.

What to write:

"This is my permanent goodbye.
Not because I hate you. Not because what we had wasn't real.
But because I deserve to move forward instead of living
in the in-between."

Real example:

"This is my goodbye. My real, permanent, no-more-maybes goodbye.

Not because you did something unforgivable. Not because I stopped loving you overnight. But because I can't keep living in countdown mode—counting down to the next visit, counting down until maybe we'll be in the same place, counting down my life waiting for a future that kept getting further away.

I need to build a life where I am. With people I can actually see. Where I'm not perpetually planning my calendar around rare visits.

This letter is me choosing to stop waiting. To stop hoping. To accept that we tried, and it didn't work, and that's okay.

You'll never read this. And that's perfect. Because this goodbye isn't for you. It's for me.

I'm finally, truly, permanently letting you go."

Why this matters: Permanence is part of closure. When you enshrine this letter forever, you're telling your brain: This is done. We're moving forward now.

What to Say (And What Not to Say)

DO Say:

✅ "The distance made [specific thing] impossible, and I couldn't do it anymore."

  • Validates that the situation was genuinely difficult

✅ "I'm grateful for what we built, and I'm sad it's over."

  • Both things can be true simultaneously

✅ "I needed more than texts and video calls could give me."

  • Your needs are valid, even if they couldn't meet them from far away

✅ "I'm choosing myself and my local life."

  • This isn't selfish—it's necessary

DON'T Say:

❌ "If you'd just moved here, we'd still be together."

  • This creates resentment and what-ifs. Accept that neither of you moved.

❌ "Long distance is impossible for everyone."

  • It works for some people. It didn't work for you. That's okay.

❌ "We never really had a real relationship anyway."

  • Don't diminish what you had. It was real. It just ended.

❌ "Maybe we can try again when we're in the same place."

  • If you're writing a goodbye letter, make it a goodbye

Real Letters: Goodbyes Across Miles

The following are real, anonymized letters from misskissing.com.

Letter 1: "To the Love I Couldn't Hold"

"Two years. 874 days. That's how long we tried to make 2,300 miles feel like nothing.

We fell in love on a trip. A weekend that felt like a fairytale. Then reality hit: you lived in Seattle, I lived in Boston, and neither of us could afford to visit more than every three months.

We tried everything. Daily FaceTime calls. Shared Netflix passwords. Care packages. Countdown apps. We read the same books at the same time so we'd have something to talk about. We planned a future we both believed in.

But the distance took too much. I needed someone who could show up at my door when I was crying. Someone who could meet my friends and family without it requiring a cross-country flight. Someone who was building a life with me, not planning to build one eventually.

You weren't willing to move. I wasn't willing to move. And after two years of visits that felt like vacations instead of real life, I finally accepted: Love isn't always enough.

I don't regret loving you. But I can't keep living in countdown mode, measuring my life in plane tickets and time zones.

This is my goodbye to the version of us I imagined. The one where somehow, magically, the distance would close. It didn't. It won't.

I hope you find someone local who makes you happy. And I hope I do too."

Rippling Hearts: 734

Letter 2: "The End of Our Temporary Forever"

"You said 'six more months' a year ago. Then you said it again six months ago. And when I asked last month when you were actually moving, you said, 'I don't know anymore.'

I realized I'd been living in limbo. Putting my life on pause, waiting for you to be ready. Not dating anyone local because 'we're together.' Not making long-term plans because 'once you move here, everything will change.'

But you were never going to move. Not really. And I was never going to keep waiting forever.

I loved you so much. I still do, in that aching, impossible way. But I can't love someone who exists only in my phone. I can't build a life with 'someday.'

I need someone who's here. Now. Not someone I'm endlessly waiting for.

This letter is me accepting that our 'someday' is never coming. And choosing to stop waiting.

Goodbye to the future we planned. Goodbye to the version of you I imagined living with. Goodbye to the fantasy that kept me holding on.

I'm ready to let go now."

Rippling Hearts: 1,091

After You Write: Moving Forward from Long Distance

The First Week

You might feel:

  • Guilty (like you gave up too easily)
  • Relieved (not having to schedule calls around time zones)
  • Sad (missing the person, even from far away)
  • Lost (your routine revolved around texts and calls)

All of this is normal. Let yourself feel it.

What to Do Instead of Texting Them

  • Text a local friend instead (rebuild nearby connections)
  • Go for a walk in your actual neighborhood (reclaim your local life)
  • Do something spontaneous (you don't have to plan three months ahead anymore)
  • Delete their number from your favorites/top contacts (reduce temptation)

The First Month

Signs you're healing:

  • You stop checking the time to calculate their time zone
  • You make plans without thinking "but what if they visit that week"
  • You go a full day without thinking about them
  • You feel ready to meet someone local (even if you're not ready to date yet)

When You're Ready to Date Again

The gift of a long distance breakup: You now know what you need that distance couldn't give you.

  • Physical presence
  • Spontaneity
  • Someone integrated into your actual life
  • Consistent, in-person connection

Don't feel guilty for wanting these things. They're not shallow. They're human needs that long distance couldn't fulfill.

Write Your Long Distance Farewell Letter

You deserve a goodbye that feels real, even if you can't have it in person.

A permanent letter that honors what you built, accepts what couldn't survive, and closes the chapter on your terms.

Write Your Farewell Letter →

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Additional Resources

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Article written by the misskissing.com editorial team. All stories shared with permission and anonymized.

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