The Dead Kids' Club

Caleb

Suicide just kind of happens, you know? Well, you probably don't know. Suicide just cuts your rebellious little life short. And you aren't dead. I haven't seen you around here, but then again you aren't a teenager anymore. You're a grown woman now, making your own choices and drinking yourself to death every other week. Maybe I'll see you soon after all.

But that's not the point. The point is that I just wanted to tell you how things have been. I'd like to tell you what was running through my head the moment I decided to permanently leave the world, but like I said, suicide just kind of happens.

When I died, it was kinda like sleeping, you know? Then I opened my eyes, but I was looking down on my own funeral. Closed casket,of course. My parents always said a closed casket respects the dead, but I didn't think I deserved any respect after abandoning you before anything happened. You were having trouble finding your niche in society despite the dyed hair, piercings, and slowly-growing cigarette habit. I always knew you were a rebellious girl before you decided to say "screw it" and give your parents the middle finger that is your life decisions. I get it. You were afraid to throw away all the security they could give you.

                  

I knew who I was. I was the nice guy, the smart guy. I was ready. You weren't. It was junior year. You,  again, weren't quite sure you were making the right decisions. Now, I thought I was a good decision for you to make, but I guess I wanted to make my impact a little bigger.

That was a pretty big tangent I just went on. When you're dead, it's a little hard to focus on one thing when the constant thought of Good job,  idiot. You can't fix your earthly sins if you aren't on the goddamned Earth anymore. No more second chances for you. continuously goes through your head.

I say that because I don't think I'm on Earth anymore. Based on how I was able to see the funeral, I'm guessing I can travel to Earth in a hologram-like state, kind of like Al on Quantum Leap. (You probably didn't watch the show. I don't know if it was your thing or not. It could have been our thing, but it's too late for that.)Except I can't interact with anyone, not even a select individual. Trust me, I tried.

You probably want to know what death and the afterlife is like. I know i always had the answers, but this time i dont have any. I have faint ideas, but they're just ideas.

                  

I shouldn't be talking to you like this. I should be talking to you in person, which means I didn't die, which means we're together and happy. I joke about naming our first-born kid Arugula or Quinoa or McDonalds. You would get playfully mad and threaten to name the baby... wait. What would you name the baby? I don't know what you would say. Why did I have to be so stupidly suicidal?  I want be there with you, alive and all, so we could laugh because we're both alive with our shared life ahead of us. Ugh. I really hate myself sometimes.

                  

Anyway, after the funeral ended, I just sort of disappeared from the world. One moment I was seeing you sniffle back to your car. Two seconds later, my vision goes black and I'm here for the first time. Here is the afterlife, I think. Despite taking all the classes I could, Death and Beyond was never a class that showed up on my schedule.

When I came to, a few teenagers I'd never seen before in my life were surrounding me. I think they were. All I could see clearly were the blinding white lights on the ceiling.

I was lying on a cold metal slab. It looked like a morgue. I think I was only concealed by a white sheet. Thank goodness. I didn't want strangers seeing my exposed form.  That's way too personal for me.