You want to know what you can do? You can call me. No one's done that in a long damn time. No one's called me just to talk, to say hello. Sure, the phone's rung, some real calls, too—not just debt collectors, scams, and bullshit—but they've all been about one kind of business or another. Nobody's called because they actually care, not for more than a year now.
It's not so hard—the number's right there if you bother to look—but you have to call me, because I can't call you. I can't pick up the phone. I can't dial. I just can't.
You want to know what you can do? Well, there it is. It's not so much, but you have to call soon, you have to call now, because I can't take this loneliness much longer. I can't take this silence, this never hearing another human voice, the voice of someone who gives a shit, who sees me as a human being and not a bunch of numbers in a file. Please, you have to call now. You have to call before I die.
