Hey, it's me.
I know we haven't spoken in some time, but I was thinking about you.
I mean, I thought of you earlier.
I was listening to a song on the radio, My Way to Work.
They were highlighting some old indie bands trying to promote music or something.
I wasn't paying much attention to it.
But then, then they played a song that I recognized.
I didn't know the name of the song or the band, but the tune was familiar, the lyrics.
And then I remembered, it's a song you used to like.
It's the tune you used to hum when you were happy.
And just like that, memories came flooding back and it made me wonder.
Made me think about you.
I tried to search you up online.
Shit, that, that makes me sound like I'm some kind of a stalker.
I'm not trying to stalk you.
I'm just curious.
I was curious, was curious.
Um, look, I will be honest, I miss you, um, from time to time.
I try to imagine how you would look now and how you would sound and I know it's been years
and guys, it's been that long already, um, to be completely honest, this isn't the first
time I've thought about you.
It comes and it goes in waves and I'll go months, I will go months without thinking
about you, without you even fucking crossing my mind.
And then something will happen and I'll come across a photo from before, uh, it smells
something familiar, you're a toon and suddenly there you are, occupying my mind with every
thought, flooding my mind with memories and that's when it really starts.
I'll search around for the box that I have, the one I told myself to throw away.
It's filled with pictures and other memories of days long gone and I'll smile, smile at
photos of better times when your smile was all that I needed.
And then I will find my old phone, my old phone at the bottom.
It's the one, it's the one that's filled with those texts, those old texts between us.
And then, in the files, there's something that's just even more valuable to me, it's
the old voice messages and recordings you left me.
I play them back again and again, hearing your voice echoing through my ears and if
I close my eyes, I can imagine that you're here with me, remembering the days when you
used to comfort me in my sleep.
I'll play our memories over and over again in my mind and it's like it's some sort of
song I can loop and every time I paint over the picture of us in my mind, covering up
any flaws, convincing myself that those were the days, those were the days I was truly
happy, the past was so colourful, the past is so colourful and perfect, while the present
is just so fucking murky and uncertain.
I play the story of us in my head again and again and again, directing it as if it's a
play and I want it to be perfect.
But it'll never be perfect because that's how the play ends and the play always ends,
no matter how much I wish it was otherwise, how then I'm left feeling hollow, like I've
dug another small chunk from my heart and I know I will do it again in a few months
or more and because fucking deep down, I know that I'd happily take this pain if it means
I can live in the memories of you.
So I keep doing this to myself, this unhealthy obsession with the past, with you, and I know
logically I should stop myself, I should just move on with my life and I have, I have, I
have, I have, at least I hope I have, but then I hear a damn song on the radio and I'm
right back there, I'm right back there, opening up a box I should have thrown away years ago,
getting drunk around a pile of memories, recharging a phone that should, by all rights, have been
dead.
Just so I can get a phone number, so that this call...
So I get this call might seem out of the blue and I really, deep down, I know this message
will never reach you, but it's the only number I have.