A Love Letter to Long-Distance Friendship

Long-distance friendships don’t usually get the spotlight, but they should.

They’re the unsung love stories of our lives: stretched by time zones, strengthened by effort, and stitched together with voice notes, plane tickets, and a hundred tiny reminders that some people are just your people, no matter the postcode.

@emilia-schettino

I have two friends who’ve become experts at loving me from afar—one who moved to Japan for three years and now calls San Francisco home, and another who left nearly five years ago for an athletic scholarship in the U.S. and has been living in Chicago ever since.

We’re still as close as ever, even if the geography would suggest otherwise.

We don’t talk every week. Sometimes not even every few months. There are whole years that pass in a blur, with only a handful of phone calls and text exchanges scattered throughout.

But when we do connect—usually in a spontaneous, half-chaotic call that lasts hours—it’s like we’ve been in step the whole time. No awkward catch-up dance. No weird pauses. Just a seamless fall back into the comfort of each other’s company.

I miss them constantly, though not always in the loud, aching way you might expect. It’s more of a soft, ambient absence—a thought that floats through my mind when I see something funny on the street, or when I wish someone were around to grab a quick coffee, run an errand, or just sit in silence beside me without needing to explain anything.

I miss the way we used to casually bump into each other. The unplanned hangouts. The late-night kitchen debriefs after a night out. I miss calling without calculating time zones or playing the “are you awake?” roulette. I miss the way friendship felt woven into the fabric of daily life, rather than something that now requires planning, energy, and a reliable internet connection.

But here’s the beautiful part: despite all that, we’re still us.

If anything, the distance has taught me to value these friendships in a deeper way. When you're no longer in each other's orbit, you realise how many of the so-called “little things” are actually the glue.

The quick vent, the knowing glance, the inside joke that doesn’t need context. You miss those. But you also learn that the foundation of a real friendship isn’t built on constant contact—it’s built on trust, history, and the kind of love that doesn’t need daily reminders to stay strong.

We’ve had our moments. Travelling through Europe together. I flew to Japan and stayed with her for two weeks, and for a little while, we slipped into a rhythm that felt like a parallel life—familiar, effortless, and just real enough to ache when it ended.

Those visits are rare, but when they happen, they’re magic—not in the flashy, cinematic way, but in the grounded, soul-warming sense that says: “This still matters. We still matter.”

Of course, long-distance friendship isn’t without its struggles. I’ve had days where I couldn’t bring myself to reply, weeks where I felt too far removed to even know where to begin. There have been hard seasons I haven’t fully shared with them because the distance made it feel too heavy to explain. Sometimes, our conversations are all big updates and life milestones, and the everyday stuff—those tiny wins or quiet struggles—gets lost in the shuffle.

But even in that, there’s love. The kind that doesn’t expire just because the thread thins out for a while. The kind that doesn’t need constant reassurance to keep existing. And when you do pick it back up, it’s like flipping to the next page of a book you never stopped reading.

If there’s anything this season of my life has taught me, it’s that effort doesn’t always look like constant texting or perfectly timed check-ins.

Sometimes, it’s a random message on a Tuesday that says, “thinking of you.” Sometimes it’s a shared meme, a surprise bouquet from overseas, or a phone call that turns into a three-hour download on everything and nothing.

If you’re in a long-distance friendship and starting to wonder if it’s slipping, if it still matters, if it’s worth the work, this is your reminder: it does, it is, and it always will be.

So text them. Send the voice note. Plan the next visit, even if it’s a year away. Show up in whatever way you can.

Because when friendship is real, the distance doesn’t shrink it, it just reveals how much it can stretch.

M x