Letters to Phil. (Phan)

Letter Eighteen.

June 11, 2015

Dear Phil,

Hello. So, today is my birthday. I'm sure you know that, though. Actually, I know you know that.

I wasn't planning on doing anything for it. It's not a big deal. Yeah, I turned 24, yay.

Everyone on Twitter and YouTube and Facebook have been telling me happy birthday all day. I'm really grateful, honestly. So many people out there are spending the thirty seconds, if that, out of their life to send me a happy birthday message.

That includes you, too.

To say I was shocked when I saw a missed voicemail from you would be an understatement. I was confused. I didn't know why you would ever send me a voicemail, and I honest to God thought that you didn't even have my number anymore. I was so sure you had deleted it.

But then I listened to it. I cried, Phil. I was smiling and crying all at the same time, which was ironic because I was smiling because you had actually left me a voicemail, but I was crying because I was aching to have you come home. I have listened to that voicemail so many times today.

You had sang me a happy birthday, just like you would if you were home. And then you started talking. You were talking about memories we had together one my previous birthdays. And you said how much you missed them. That's when I started crying because you know you could just so easily come home.

Phil, you can just walk to my front door and just walk in with boxes and I will be the first person to start helping because even though I seem to have gotten over you leaving a bit, I still want my best friend home.

The last thing you said. It's engraved into my brain. You were so quiet and I don't think you really thought I would hear it, but I did. The words are on reply and they're what stopped me from acting out on my thoughts tonight. I knew it would happen because the second I woke up this morning, I just knew. I always get this void feeling in my chest and those are the days I put another mark onto my arm, counting my days, or minutes sometimes, depending on how many I do, but those four little words are what filled that void in me.

"I love you, Dan."

Love,

Dan.