She wrote the e-mail to get everything off her chest, and put him behind her. He wasn't supposed to reply; he was supposed to be dead!

The e-mail

To: Where did one send an e-mail that was for a dead guy? An e-mail that you really don't want read. Mydeadexboyfriend at whereveryougoafterdeath . com. Sarah snorted as she wrote it, well; at least no one would get it accidentally.

Subject: I hate subjects and it's not like you're going to read this anyway!

Dear Kyle… no that didn't sound right… Delete…

Hi Kyle…that sounded kinda odd, too peppy… who really cared anyway, for heaven's sake the guy was dead!


Its Sarah… maybe you remember me, we went to primary school together, oh yeah, and we dated for a couple of months back in grade nine. Maybe you don't remember, it's not like we did anything all that memorable. Lord, I'm talking like you're actually going to read this. Anyhow, I guess I'm writing this to say goodbye.

You died six months ago Kyle. I'm still having a little trouble wrapping my head around that. I mean, you were seventeen, and perfect and more full of life then anyone I've ever met, and all of a sudden you were dead. I guess I always thought you were invincible. How is it that you could be dead? Damn it! It wasn't supposed to be this way.

I had this day dream, it's really silly but I've been living it in my head for years. I'm pretty pathetic I know. I guess the first part came true, the part where we're separated for years. Before you died I hadn't seen you in three years. Anyhow, in my day dream, after this long separation (during which you would constantly think about me) we would meet up at some random location. And I would be stunning and successful, and basically everything that anyone would ever want in a girl, and you would chase after me. I'd play hard to get, but you would be so charming and gorgeous that eventually I'd give in, and we would live happily ever after.

Yes, I know, it's a seriously lame dream. What can I say; my day dreams aren't particularly original. The point is, you weren't supposed to die, that didn't exactly factor into my plan. Intellectually I knew that things would never work out like they did in the day dream, but I always figured that one day I'd get to be the gorgeous successful one that you regretted ever having let get away. I can't be the one that got away to a dead guy!

Yeah, I know, you're dead and I'm pissed off that your death foiled my plans, I'm really shallow right? Not really. I think I still miss you. It really isn't fair, you probably got over me in a split second, and I've had four years and I'm still not over you. I still think of you every time I hear the name Kyle, which believe me is far too often, you couldn't have had some weird unusual name that nobody's ever heard before could you? I still see you every time I look at a swimming pool, can still hear you every time I see a snicker, and I still think of bloody St. Patrick's Day as our anniversary. I'm seriously messed up.

I used to think that I was in love with you. Now I know better. I didn't know you well enough to be in love with you. I was in love with the idea of love, and in love with the you that I'd made up in my head. It was more of an obsession really. I'm ashamed to even admit it. For four years I've been obsessed with Kyle Campbell. And now the object of my obsession is dead.

Maybe I'm scaring you just a little Kyle, and to clear things up, I wasn't obsessed with you in a freaky-stalker kind of way, just in a harmless I-think-about-you-far-too-much way. I mean, I never even attempted to see you in the three years before your death. I was content with my boring life, maybe not all that happy and sure I thought about you more than one would normally think about ones ex-boyfriend, but it wasn't as if I pined for you every second of every day. I had my moments, but I was pretty normal. The thing is, in some really fucked up way, I think in my mind, I was still committed to you.

I haven't been on a single date since I went out with you. I mean it's not like there were all that many offers. In the first couple of months after we broke up there were a few guys. I turned them all down. And I just kept doing it after that, just kept brushing people off; they stopped asking after a while. I didn't mind. Until you died.

It was a shock. I was just minding my own business eating my lunch when out of nowhere Simone Webber appears to tell us about how you'd been in some horrific car accident, and how you were on life support. It's not the type of thing one expects to hear at ten o'clock on a sunny Tuesday morning. You were dead by the next day. I didn't go to the funeral. I didn't feel like it was my place, I'd barely known you. But I wanted to spit in Simone Webber's face when she told me she'd been, she's never even said two words to you.

Everyone went, like it was some social event. It was on the cover of every newspaper, hell, you even got a short segment on the nightly news, which was no small feet, considering we live in South Africa, where thousands of people are killed every day in far more interesting ways then car crashes. Suddenly everyone was railing against drunk drivers, like no-one had ever been killed by a drunk driver before.

In a couple of weeks it all settled down, it was like it had never happened, the people that had been balling at your funeral were back to flouncing around in mini skirts and flirting with anything that moved. But I couldn't seem to forget, I can't seem to forget.

Maybe it's because I didn't go to your funeral, maybe it's because I didn't get the chance to say goodbye. But I couldn't go. I couldn't stand the thought of making it any more real. I didn't want you to be anything but thrillingly alive in my mind. You always did know how to live, in that aspect you were my complete opposite. Me, I'm always putting the living off until tomorrow.

I'm scared Kyle. I don't know how to live, and I don't know how to love. I'm too scared I'll get my heart broken. But I know I need to try.

I'm going to University. It's my first day tomorrow, so I guess this is why I'm writing this. I want to say goodbye. I'll always remember you, and I count myself lucky to have known you, but I need to put you behind me, I need to move on.

So goodbye Kyle.



She took a deep breath and hit the send button. She waited a minute until message sent popped up on the screen before her. It was gone. It was time to let go. She switched her computer off and climbed into the strange bed covered in brand new linen her mother had dragged her out to buy. It was time to let go.

AN: Hi everyone, so this is the first story I've posted and I'm kinda nervous about it, I liked the idea, but I'm not sure how well I've put it across. Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear what you have to say, and I love constructive criticism too, so if you hate it, that's fine as long as you tell me why! Apologies for my appalling punctuation and run-on sentences, but to be fair, nobody makes too much effort with punctuation when writing an e-mail, so it kinda adds authenticity. Yes, I do know that that's a pathetic excuse. Now please go review!

Oh, and primary school in South Africa is from Grade 1 to 7 (Not quite sure what it's called overseas possibly elementary school?), in case anyone was wondering. If there was anything else you may not have understood feel free to let me know and I shall do my best to clear it up.

AN 2: Hi again, so I just spruced this up a little, haven't changed anything too drastically though.