"How are you doing?"

I'm asking the question people ask a thousand times a day. But when you actually mean it, it has a global giantness to it that still yields the tiniest of answers.
"Fine."

I haven't slept much. The last few days have been rough and now with dangerous amounts of caffeine in my system, I have to get out of this damn bed. Coffee-drunk, I stood shaking in front of the bathroom window to watch the sunrise.

Two days ago I finally decided to stop being retarded and make a long-overdue phone call. I nervously scrolled down my contact list and pressed the green button. Instead of the sound of a distant ring, I heard a voice no one ever wants to hear. [...The number you have dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service...]

Tears began to form again, my airways were quickly closing up, while vigorously telling myself I can't break down just yet. It can't end like this when it never had a chance to begin.

I tried again the next day and was excited to find it working again. We finally got a hold of each other, and I suddenly found myself immersed in the most intense, terrifying, life-altering conversation. Despite the emotional extremity involved, it helped me to realize my capability of being human, how much I truly care, and the importance of a much-needed friendship. It gave my life meaning and purpose to know I was there for someone in need and knowing I would fall apart if something happened.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, I still made the effort to make a follow-up phone call today to fulfill my newly awakened compassion, be sure things were okay, and possibly evaluate what was said the night before.

He doesn't remember talking to me at all.

I think I saved a man's life last night... and all I'm left with is a broken heart.