Dear Internet,

I just want to personally thank you for all you have done in my life. And millions of others too. God only knows what kind of mess we get ourselves into when you don’t work, or when you’re not there.

You’re there for us through everything. When we just need a funny cat video to cheer us up, when we want to wallow in our own self-pity by listening to sad songs or when we need to find the answer to a question to embarrassing to ask anyone else. You know all of our secrets and the strange things we search for at two o’clock in the morning. When we’re researching you save us the labour of peeling through long and boring books by finding us the answers in a few clicks.

The thing about you is that you’re always there when we need you. As soon as we ask you a question you answer it. You don’t lie, you don’t ignore us or make us feel bad. You’re an endless orb of information at our beck and call, raring for us to delve into the wonders and secrets you hold. Who needs love, who needs friends, when you’re here?

You’ve changed the world with your magical informative powers and I want to show my appreciation. Thanks, Internet.

Dear Emma

Dear Emma,

I’m sorry about your funeral. I know it will be nothing like the way you would want it, but you never thought you’d have to ┬áplan your funeral at twenty one. Your family probably mean the best for you, and I know how much they miss you. I want you to know that.

It’s been a week today. The funeral is this afternoon and I have my black suit laid out on the bed. I still wake up every morning and forget in that first fatigued moment that you’re not here anymore. But, I am beginning to accept, in small steps, that there’s no way I can bring you back. There’s no way to reverse time, reverse that car. You’d probably blame yourself, but I know you’re too careful.

My mind keeps replaying that night. You’d been gone for hours before I got the call. Your parents first, then some other relatives, then your best friends. And finally, Katie rang me. I wished so much that I didn’t have to meet your parents for the first time in the hospital through tears. Nobody expect Katie and Erin even knew me. The tall dark haired guy dabbing his tears with his sleeve.

I told myself and keep telling myself that you’d want me to be happy; and I know I’d want the same if our positions were reversed. God, why couldn’t it have been me?

Still, I can’t bear to put that suit on. How do I tell these strangers that I loved their Emma, when it is you I want to tell? I love you, it’s as simple as that. No frills necessary. You always knew that’s the way I am. And I like to think that you liked me because of it.

When we met at uni, only eight months ago, I remember how you hated me. I was too lazy, while you slogged away only to do just as well as me. Your messy blonde hair would always be buried in a book in the library. It took you weeks to realize that despite my laid back attitude, I frequented the library as much as you. Those first times we caught each other’s eyes, I remember the sizzle of surprise light up your big dark eyes. The first time you spoke, asking playfully if I was stalking you, and I had to remind you we were one the same course. Now I have to stalk through those long library corridors alone, your messy mop of yellow gone.

It took ┬áme a long time to convince you to go on a date, and then it turned out to be a disaster anyway! Do you remember, I took you bowling and accidentally dropped the ball on your foot? Not so smooth… Yet, something made you allow me to take you out again. And again. Then, finally you were my girlfriend.

I never told you those three little words enough. You deserved so much better than me, so much more in this life you’d been working so hard to lead. I know you would have been a bad-ass teacher, and a bad-ass mother for that matter. You had so much love to give to the children you wanted to teach one day, and the children you never got to have. And all that love was taken away from the world.

I can hear Katie on the phone. She let me stay here, at her house for the funeral. It’s so weird seeing your hometown, your life before us. The suit is still folded neatly on Katie’s flowery duvet. My hands are trembling. Emma, I’m doing this for you. I will put on that suit and walk into the church and it doesn’t matter if I cry, or if I mess up my words, because I love you. I’m sorry for all the wrongs done to you in dying so young and so full of hope for the future. I’m sorry I wasn’t more worthy of you. But I loved you and I do and I will, forever. It hurts so much. I love you, Emma.

Yours,

Will

Prompt: Writing 101: To Whom it May Concern