I had once thought that you did not exist... that everything "you" did, said, and thought, was created by someone else as an attempt to develop a character for some bizarre novel, or just for their own amusement. Yet, now, I believe that I was wrong, at least partially.
You were not the creation of the typewriter of a madman. You were, and are, a living person that has long since distance herself from all the strange goings-on that we both were involved in. At least I hope that you have distanced yourself from them... I would have if I were you, and I should have as me.
However, your death is something in which I refuse to believe. I know that you are still alive, that you never died, though I know others will insist that I am incorrect in the assumption. It's been nearly nine years now, since your alleged passing.
Your death was the product of the typewriter of a madman. Your death was a lunatic testing out a character. Perhaps he wanted to stop you from speaking out to some truth that threatened him, and he killed off your character as if you were just that, a character.
However, I know the truth. I cannot prove it. I cannot produce a long-form birth certificate, and even if I could, that would not prove that you were alive currently. I know it's far too late to bring out the truth, even if I were to find it. Very few others remember this whole situation, and of the few that do, there are perhaps two or three others that even have the same suspicions that I have harbored for all of these years.
All this being said, I wish you will. I know you're alive... I'd bet my life on it. I know you'll never read this, and neither will "he", the villain of this strange situation. As always, I am here for your amusement, "you" being the collective of everyone.