This is a collection of response from Facebook and instagram to the prompt above. The winner of a brand new copy of I Am Incomplete Without You is: Kat Niles.
I should really call my brother.
I’m just so afraid that this could be when he gets fed up and tells the truth.
“You’re not the only one who lost her,
She was more than just YOUR mother.
You should’ve called her, you should’ve gotten sober. You should’ve remembered that your the one that’s older. You should’ve been stronger, you should’ve been brave. I wish you weren’t high while we stood in silence at her grave.
She missed you, you know. What you feel now, is what she felt then.”
I’m afraid of when he’s gonna tell me that what I feel now, is what she felt then.
I wish I could call her.
I should really call my brother.
– Kat Niles
I would call my biological father. I need to know what color his eyes are.
I don’t have the number to call. He never left it and I never looked hard enough to find it.
I’m not sure who I blame for that more.
– Colleen Allison
I would call him like I have so many times before to tell him that everything is OK, that we are both still alive and wonderful, that all is forgiven but not forgotten, that I still love him with every fiber of my being and that there is no risk of that changing any time soon, but he wouldn’t answer, he wouldn’t call, because all the bridges I build he burns, everything I wish to remember he pleads to forget, every step closer pushes him a couple feet further away, every tear is met with a rebuke and every bout of laughter with a sneer. All this, and more is why I won’t call, never again.
You are my worst heartache
And my happiest memory
You told me you left for good, for us
I hate myself for believing you
It has been a long time
And I hate you
I wish I called
I don’t need to be reminded of that
There was never a moment that I forgot the way you talk
That’s the only thing left familiar
Your voice. Dad.
– Leih Arianne
“Yes, who is there?”
(It’s me. I miss you)
“Hello? Who do you need to talk to?”
(It’s you. I love you.)
“Did you get the wrong number?”
(I’m sorry I can’t stop my fingers from reaching for my phone and calling the number I couldn’t erase)
“Hello, who is this? If this is a prank call then I’m going to hang up”
(Just 10 seconds. 10 seconds of your voice and then maybe the day will stop being impossible)
(Wait for me tomorrow.)
– Iman Izzati Azhari
Because the phone line is tangled and I’m struggling not to twist it into a noose.
Because every time I wait to dial a tone there’s radio silence, even though I can hear screaming.
Because the pauses between the rings sync with my heartbeat even though I do not feel alive.
Because no one ever tells you what it’s like to live without your mother
Or your father
Because listening to their voicemail continuously in hope that somehow
They will pick up
Is more important than accepting that they never will.
– Kayla Struwig
I would call the man that made me leave my husband without either of them knowing it’s because of him.
The person who made me realize no one could ever mean as much as he did.
Him who I haven’t seen or heard from in 5 years.
The guy whose Facebook I can’t resist to check every now and then.
I would, if I hadn’t deleted his number.
And if he weren’t seeing this gorgeous Italian girl.
– Valérie Miseur
I’d call the goddamned soul who got me in this mess and I would tell him everything I should have when we were face to face, I should try to patch things up.
– Madison Kuhlmann
I wish I could call you.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself lying awake at four am, the sheets balled up beside me and my head against my tear-soaked pillow, wishing I could hear your voice one last time.
It’s strange. No one ever tells you just how easy it is to lose someone, or how hard it is to forget them. I wish people came with a warning label, just so I could have been prepared for all that would inevitably come.
I miss you everyday. If I could have one thing, it would simply be one last phone call. I would tell you, “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to call, but you should know, your number is still the only one I have memorized by heart.”
– Maggie Warren
I already did!
Or rather, I already am.
Because you seem to forget that all there ever was is an eternal present,
in which you and I are already going to have a conversation,
within the space between us.
– Linda Pussinen
I already know the answer
Worst suspicions, truths revealed
It is going to change everything
Except for how I feel.
– Christy Reichenbach
I would call myself and say “It’s okay. It will be alright.”
But I haven’t made the call yet because I’m not sure when I’ll believe it.
– Katie Garnett
Because sometimes forgiveness takes time. I’m not there yet, but I hope that I someday will be.
– Cassi Hess
Because of the fear that nobody would answer. Or in the end, it might get rejected again.
– Danielle Denise Celones
A phone call to my unrequited love.
I can see he’s busy. He’s on a phone call, with someone else.
– Erika Rotor
it will go unanswered anyway.
– Sharlene Festin
Because love doesn’t automatically equate to compatibility.
– Az Hairul
I’d want to call myself 5 years ago and tell her I love her. Why not? Well then the me lying here today would not exist.
I wanted to call my someone- a boy from my past whom I had loved so much but left me all alone and who did sent my things home the next day. Why not? I don’t wanna remember how he hurt my feelings and how he just lost the love we’ve been working hard just for another girl he met. Until now, I have his number but I still have the doubts to call or not.
I should call him if only he could hear me from his beautiful place now, heaven.
I’ll call myself and tell this lost girl to man the fuck up because everything is going to be alright. I don’t know when, but it will be.
Because fear is the venom of expression. It doesn’t matter who. It’s all the same reason.
The most important call is a call I cannot make, because the person on the other end of the phone is dead. She was a child of flowers and a lover of cemeteries. She died while chasing the moon. I still see her in my dreams – nightmares – she says, “Won’t you bring me back to life? I am the softness the world took away from you. Do you want to remain cruel and lose your soul to the notion of belonging in a society that does not the difference between love and passion?” and I don’t talk back to her because after she finishes her sentence, I become the person on the other end of the phone; dying.
i could be tapping the digits to my partner, a collection of numbers i memorised by heart; a routine to phone to. instead, i am leaving my phone unlocked, waiting for a mere text message for him to send to me. i wouldn’t call him because he is having a whale of a time with other people, and i have no authority to intrude. i wouldn’t call him because he deserves the freedom he wants to do. i wouldn’t call him because i have my own freedom to do what i want to do (in this case not make the call anyway).
I’d call the future, and make sure it’s worth waiting for..
The most important call I could make would be to my past self. To tell myself to live softer. To not let the bumps in the road harden my perception of the world. To help myself realize earlier that the pursuit of happiness isn’t about momentary bliss or reward that disappears in a quick moment; but about pursing the things that’ll make your heart feel so full that it’ll overflow with one more drop of passion.
My dealer. Cuz I don’t have airtime.
Call him to say hello. But no, because he’s waiting for someone else’s hi. So maybe I’d call him to say goodbye.
To my grandmother with Alzheimer disease to remind her that she’s loved and always kept in mind. Shes in an institution and I’m not supposed to interrupt it during the day, so I’ll wait until 730 tonight.
I’d call and tell him how, almost a year later, I’m still picking the shards of glass he left behind out of my heart. But he wouldn’t answer; he never did before.
To my dad, to tell him I miss him and that I love him because I certainly don’t enough. To tell him I appreciate him and look up to him no matter what’s happened or how weak he’s been because I don’t think I’ve ever told him that. The only problem is that I can’t call him and hear his voice whenever I want, I can only write him letters and send them to the prison he’s in and wait for him to write back. I won’t get to see his eye crinkles when he smiles for a long time, I haven’t seen them in so long already, I won’t get to hear his voice talking about weird things I didn’t when I was little and we’d go visit him, I won’t even get a letter that smells like him anymore because he types them now, which is okay. But I do miss him and love him. And I can’t wait to see him for the first time since 2013. (It’s not a phone call, but if it could be it would be.)
I stopped calling her when she couldn’t talk back. I could barely understand her mumbles and moans she still tried to make through the pain of speaking. Her throat was raspy and her voice wasn’t what I remembered. Mom told me to keep calling her, because she could listen to me, but it was like talking to myself. What was the point? I don’t remember the last phone call or the last message she left me and that’s a memory I’ll never get back because I didn’t know how important it would be to me. I keep making that phone call, except I’m lying in my bed, holding the last thing I have that she touched. I’m making that phone call to whatever higher power she’s with, she’s with her God. My grandmother still, can only listen but not respond. I wish I had treasured her responses before it was too late.
“Grandpa? Are you there? Is heaven as good as they say it is? I know I never called you when you were alive but I just want to say I am sorry. Sorry for not being a very good granddaughter. I still look back on my childhood fondly when memories arrive with you in them. Remember when you let me pick out your wine because I liked the pretty labels? Because I do. Well I should be letting you go now. But I do want to say how sorry I am that I never solved the mystery of your adoption when you were here. I’m sure you already have met your birth mom but I’m still going to solve it for you anyway. Well grandpa, I love you to the moon and back. Forever my rocket scientist. And thank you for saving me that night. I won’t let you down.”
This phonecall that won’t happen, because I have already played all of my cards: You said once, with a shrug, “You’re not going anywhere.” And I said, “I know. It’s nice.” But I’m not sure I can come back this time. I’ve never been able to do it alone before, and suddenly I can. I am. Let’s face it, I was always going to make it impossible for her to like me.
I cannot call you, because your number frequently changes, and you seem to have forgotten mine. I cannot tell you how I wish you were still a part of my life and that a piece of my heart bleeds because the roads of fate and timing did not intersect. You have her, and I have him…. and as happy as I am, I hope that you remember me.
My current self needs a calling. she needs to know of the dangers that lie ahead in the road of life; she needs to realize that she needs to let her wings prosper to truly find out how she’s different from the others. she needs comfort not only from her own mind, but from others whom she knows she is able to trust. but can anyone ever listen to their own self?
I’d call but I don’t know if I’d answer. I need to tell you that it’s okay to be afraid; to feel overwhelmed by the journey in life; to take time to sort your thoughts and feelings out. But, those things shouldn’t hinder you from progress but drive you. Take your fear and anxiety and go with them hand in hand to face the challenges up ahead. Take all the time that you need and then take the time that you need for new thoughts and to feel new things. If a hand to hold is what you’re looking for to go through all these, well, honey, God created you with two hands. Take your hand and charge full speed ahead. You got this. You need this. You want this. Now, go.
I’d call you, and maybe we could talk again like there aren’t years and miles between us. I would tell you about all the stupid little things going on in my life, and you’d make your stupid jokes that always cheered me up, and it probably wouldn’t fix everything, or anything really, but it would make me feel better just for a while. It would make me feel like we were just little kids again, when things weren’t so complicated.
I’m not making it because you’re busy and I’m busy and life gets in the way of things like family and simplicity.