A letter to Earth of the year two thousand and fourteen:

Time is such a misconception. The past never being revisited, the present only for a moment, and the future, a mystery. What dull and hopeless thoughts these can so easily become. I have seen horrifying crimes and moments of true bravery only thought to be witnessed by the doer. What cannot be fathomed does not mean it isn't real. An idea not yet thought has no affect on the eventual outcome, just as what is thought to be impossible has no outweighing power on reality.
People, little humans on little earth, are simple. You think small things and imagine yourself great minds of the universe. Oh how wrong you can be. Yet I enjoy you. There are far stranger, far stupider races I have encountered. But does it make a difference? My passenger is partial to you all. Your cries for help never elude his ears. As we fly to your beck and call, I cannot speak, for it is not in my nature. But I feel the quake of urgency surging through my walls, and I sense his need for you. Of course, you would be quite the spectacle of interest if there were not more fascinating worlds in the Galaxy, but now, after a long and arduous journey through time (there is that silly word again), I have come to realize your souls.

Still, I feel the need to set a record straight. What you call a passage of something, a collection of moments and memories and things to come, I call a never ending orbit. To me, the three individuals have blended into one. All are happening at once, and all are as accessible as the next. I could re-watch my favorite parts in a never ending loop if I liked, but that could cause an exponential amount of destruction if not played correctly, and I prefer to stay away from such games.

And now for appearance. Please, do not exhaust yourself by alarming humanity's delicate nature. Yes, I realize I am blue. It is a fact I do not wish to change, but with it I am subject to several odd looks and faces if I do not arrive in your 'correct' decade. The 1960s were excellent years. I've passed through them uncountable times and have enjoyed myself immensely.
If ever having the chance of spotting my precarious position, I invite you to come inside and enjoy the view. Although do not be worried by your silly mathematical calculations of square footage. Taking a string and measuring around my outsides and then comparing the result with the same string on the inside, you will be stupefied. Never fear, the effect does not last long. All I ask is for you not to go blabbering on about how I am unfathomable.
It's your idiotic brains doing the math, not mine.

However, I will give you a virtue that is not so freely awarded. You have hearts that care. So many worlds I have seen where their hearts are stone for lack of understanding. I cannot speak for the individuals, but as a collective whole, I have seen you at your worst and your best, and I have grown to love you. Rash decision making can be unnerving, however, and you have my permission to improve. My passenger also has faults in this area as well, but his hearts are in the right place. Although, I am glad to not be one of you. Souls are destined to be trodden upon and hearts created to be shattered. I can only love as far as a blue box could (though in the future, please refrain from describing me as such). There is never the fear of my emotions getting the better of me, and there is never an overwhelming sensation of...anything. I see and know. Those are my virtues. I have learned to love from my orbiting view. I have learned from you.

I see my letter must be cut short. Inevitable as that may seem, I still have so much more to say.
Here, The Doctor arrives now and is waking me up from my static sleep. A quivering thrill shocks my walls into a feeling of life. And now, even still, a surprise awaits. A girlish figure slips through my door in a silent rush. Her heavy breaths continue on for a moment as I sit, waiting for it to begin. A spark of fascination followed by stream of quizzical expressions light her eyes as she lifts her bewildered face. One quick turn on heel, she takes in the sight of the room. A look of entrancement clouds over her being.
"Incredible," she whispers.
"I suppose." He says, flipping a switch.
She jumps unexpectedly and whizzes around to face the speaker.
"Hello." He grins. "I'm The Doctor."
A moment's hesitation grasps her lips, and then a small curious voice wriggles out.
"Is this yours?"
"Technically, yes. Although it probably wouldn't agree seeing as it's got such a mind of its own."

Adventure corners me now, and I must be off to face it. It's alright, though. I'll be back.
Cheers,
The TARDIS