I never moved on.

I tried. I drank, I smoked, I kissed, I fell in love with someone else. But I can't rid myself of you. From the moment we met, you settled beneath my skin, and there you've stayed for six years -- even though we haven't spoken for the last four.

If we never see each other again, I just want you to know that I've never stopped thinking about you. Habitually, compulsively, against my will, I think of you. And you will always be my greatest, most terrible "what if?"