Hey, it's me.

 I have often thought about our next encounter, our first words to one another. Would I be eloquent? Would you charm me? Would I recognize your voice if you called? 

Out of all of them, you are the one I hold onto. We are just echos. But your echo is music. Where did we go so wrong? I was your something once. Do you still have my letters, which you keep in your bedroom?

Well... Here's my next letter. 

I miss you. But maybe we were meant to end. Maybe we outgrew one another. Or maybe not. I miss your soft tone, the way you managed to let me embrace myself in a different way.