My thumbs skillfully flit across the screen, typing the message: "I miss you." Before my brain has time to catch up to my racing heart, I press send. It hits me, the sheer stupidity of what I just did. I throw my phone across the room. How could I have been so- It's too late now. Despite the immediate regret, I feel something else there—a sense of accomplishment. And so, I begin the waiting game. I can't help stealing glances at the clock. Every second feels like an eternity. A minute goes by. I have gnawed off the fingernails of my right hand. Another minute passes. Now my left hand has ragged and short nails. I keep biting until I taste a metallic flavor against my tongue. I swallow the blood until it stops, and that's when I hear "ding!". My hand shoots out of my mouth, I leap off my bed and practically lunge at my phone. I go to messages, and... a text from my mother. "I miss you too, honey. It hasn't been the same since you left." My eyes begin to water but I only allow a single tear to escape. I blink hard. It's been years.