I remember that day - the last day I'd ever speak to you. I sat eagerly, waiting for you to respond to me. You told me you would call me that night, but you never did. For the whole day, I had my phone on me, just in case some miracle happened. 

I sat there, waiting, but I'm not entirely sure why. Deep down, I knew you'd never respond. But unfortunately, that's why this letter is so blue. I didn't want our last conversation to ever end.

I wish I could have comforted you when you were sad, and I wish I could have solved all of your problems. I know you're probably feeling guilt over how you treated me. I accept it. It's okay.

In the short time that I knew you, the world stopped spinning. I think that's probably why I don't want to let go; for a time, I could talk to myself through you. You reflected all of my thoughts.

The hardest realization was that this wasn't the dream I was dreaming of; it wasn't the start of the story I wanted to tell people years from now. But when I got up and accepted this, there was a spark of something.

From this short time, I learned that I am still capable of being loved. That I'm still capable of caring for people. That I'm still worthy of someone's time. And that someone is still out there who can do that for me.

It's time to let go, but I'm not ready yet. I don't want to, not for my sake, but for yours. I wanted to give you the world, and I tried, but the world I was prepared to give just wasn't suited for you, at least for the time being.

I'm still waiting on that call you promised me.

I waited, but then you left.