We were in a relationship for eight years, and we maybe saw each

The words of Izabella Scorupco, “We were in a relationship for eight years, and we maybe saw each other, total, for a year,” speak with the sorrow of distance and the fragility of bonds stretched thin. They remind us that time measured in years does not always equal closeness, and that a relationship starved of presence can wither, no matter how long it endures in name.

At the heart of this saying lies the wisdom that love demands more than words or titles—it demands the gift of time. To share life is to share moments, both great and small: the glances, the laughter, the silences. Without these, the relationship becomes an empty vessel, filled with longing but not with true connection. It is not the span of years that sanctifies love, but the depth of togetherness within them.

The origin of these words is found in Scorupco’s reflection on her own life, where career and circumstance created a gulf between two hearts bound by commitment yet separated by absence. In her honesty, she offers a lesson not only of regret but of truth: that love cannot thrive in absence alone. The body and spirit crave nearness, for presence is the language through which affection is made real.

Let this teaching endure: do not count the years of a relationship only by number, but by the fullness of the days truly shared. For love is a living flame, and without the oil of time and presence, it flickers and grows dim. The ancients knew that togetherness is the root of intimacy, and Scorupco’s words carry this truth forward, warning us that the measure of love is not in calendars, but in moments lived side by side.