I just woke up, and I already wanted this day to be over. It was snowy and slushy and shitty outside and I was in no mood to go to school.

I had another reoccurring nightmare last night; it really freaked me the fuck out. There was this creepy figure in all white with no face holding me down in my bed, screaming "TAKE YOUR FUCKING MEDICINE" in my ear and holding a syringe at my neck. It happened to me like four times and every time I woke up in a cold sweat. The third time it happened, I was so fucking sick of it I got up and started doing jumping jacks until I literally had to collapse from exhaustion. That kind of fucked up shit has been happening to me a lot lately. No matter how much I try to block out my negative thoughts, they always manage to force themselves to the forefront of my mind.

I groaned at the sound of my alarm clock, slammed my hand on the off button, and trudged across the hall into the dimly lit bathroom. I turned on the bright ass fluorescent light and blinked at the tarnished medicine cabinet mirror, immediately regretting it as I did so. I looked like shit. I guess that was no surprise, 'cause that's exactly how I felt. My eyes were sunken in and gray like a ghost, but also bloodshot like a crackhead. My vision was blurry from just waking up, but I noticed all my fucking flaws right away—I gained some pimples overnight and their presence was magnified by the fact that my skin is as white as fucking death. My hair was a floppy red mess as usual, curls twisted and knotted every which way, but thankfully I had my obnoxious green ushanka hat to hide it. I fucking hate looking at myself, but especially my freckly, lanky, tall-but-not-tall-enough-to-play-basketball figure.

I looked down from the sad sight staring me down in the mirror and grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, making sure not to glance back up until I was finished brushing my teeth and out of the bathroom. The feeling of exhaustion was replaced with my usual high-functioning depression, so I managed to put on my clothes and tuck my hair into my hat without missing a beat. I quickly stepped into my shoes and sauntered down the stairs, trying my hardest to look as put together as possible for my parents, who seemed to be constantly worrying about pretty much everything.

"Good morning bubbe!" My mom hollered from the kitchen when she heard me come downstairs. She was making breakfast for my dad and my brother, who were already sitting at the table and staring mindlessly at their phones. "Hey, mom." The dreary tone in my voice probably hinted to her that I was completely fucking miserable.

As she turned from her cooking to glance over at me, I could see the look of concern slowly forming on her face. "Oh Kyle, you look horrible!"

Great, like I couldn't feel any worse about myself. "I'm fine mom, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

She hurried over to me and held my face in her hands, examining it. "It's all those damn video games, you play them so much that they're keeping you up at night! You better not let those grades slip bubbe, you're my smart little star!" She quickly leaned down to kiss my forehead. "You need to get into a good school so you can be a successful lawyer, just like your father!" She turned to shoot my dad a knowing glance, who looked up from his phone to wink at us in approval.

"That's right Kyle, listen to your mother," he added as he looked back down at his phone.

I looked down at my worn, Walmart-brand sneakers and barked back like a trained dog. "I won't disappoint you guys, I promise."

My mom tilted my head back up so I could see her beaming smile. "We know you won't, sweetie."

I managed to offer her a phony smile and she finally let go of me. I grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet and a water bottle from the fridge and stuffed them into my backpack, which was hanging off one of the kitchen chairs. As I was just about to leave the house, my mom called me back. "Wait, Kyle!" She opened the fridge once again and pull out a brown paper bag; it had "Kyle " written on it in black marker. "I made you a special lunch today sweetie!"

"Oh, thanks mom." I turned on my heels to grab the bag from her hand as I added, "I wish I could stay for breakfast, but I don't wanna miss the bus."

She leaned down to give me a wet kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it hunny, there's always next time."

• • •

The snow was coming down hard on the walk to school. I really regretted not wearing my snow boots; they had a few holes in them but they would have worked a lot fucking better than these sneakers. My feet were pretty much drenched and I was hoping to God I wouldn't get hypothermia and break off a fucking toe.

As I neared the bus stop, I noticed that Stan, Kenny, and Cartman were already there. Hanging out at the bus stop was actually one of my favorite times of the day, honestly. It was one of the only times when I could hang out with my friends, whether we were talking or in silence, and just chill out for a little while. Stan is basically like a brother to me, and even though we don't hang out nearly as often as we used to, he still keeps me updated on everything that's going on in his life: the latest girl he's dating, his parents' imminent divorce, his high school football drama, and how badly he's doing in math. There's not a thing I don't know about his life, to be honest. As far as Kenny goes, I suppose he's a bit more secretive. He's a definite lady's man and has no problem making it known, but when it comes to other aspects of his life, it's hard to get him to open up. His parents are pretty much deadbeats and ever since his older brother moved out, he's basically the sole caretaker to his younger sister, Karen.

Oh yeah, and Cartman. Well, his primary purpose in life is to just annoy the fuck out of me and make me miserable, so I honestly don't care what's going on in his life. I usually just tune him out whenever he starts talking. Our usual back-and-forths are still as prevalent as they ever were, it's just a lot harder to rile me up now that we're not kids anymore. I mean, I guess we are still kids—we're half-way through our first year of high school, but I dunno. With the shit I have to deal with on a daily basis, I feel like a fucking old man.

Sadly, Cartman is the first one to notice me out of the three; he turns his head to look at me and tilts his head to the side, giving me that serial killer vibe he normally does. "Well! If it isn't the neighborhood Jew, Kyle." God, I hate the way he says my name, it's so fucking grating.

"Shut up, fat boy," I retort unenthusiastically, although he's not nearly as fat as he used to be. The fat he used to have has mostly been replaced by muscle, and no matter how much I hate to admit it, I'm actually fucking jealous of that son of a bitch. I have such a small amount of both fat and muscle, so to have either would honestly be a blessing.

"Don't be an asshole, Cartman." Scoffing and shoving Cartman aside, Stan grabbed my hand and greeted me with a pat on the back. "Hey Kyle, you're just in time!"

I chuckled at his enthusiasm and returned the greeting in acknowledgment. "It's gonna be a long day, dude. I already wanna go back to bed."

"No fucking way," Kenny countered, "you're such a nerd dude! You live for school." Kenny hasn't worn his parka zipped up since we were kids, so it's much easier to hear him talk—although sometimes I wished he'd just cover up his stupid face. Wherever we go, girls are constantly gawking at him and whispering about how "beautiful" he is. I've always been jealous of Kenny's looks. He has perfectly clear skin, no freckles, and an unobtrusive ribcage, unlike me. He has the blond hair/blue eyes combo going on, which is something I've secretly envied about him since forever. Every week he's telling us about the latest girl he's fucked, and every week it makes my skin crawl. He doesn't give a shit about dating or being in a relationship, he just thinks with his dick. It makes me miserable to think about because I know for a fact that no girl would want to stare into my shitty green eyes, much less compliment them. No girl would want to run their hands through my frizzy, tangly red mop. No girl would want to be anywhere near my skinny ass naked body. And sure, Kenny might have his own problems to deal with, but fuck, at least he has his looks going for him.

I rolled my eyes at his obtuse comment. "I don't live for school, dude. I wanna get into a good college, just like everybody else."

Kenny laughed at this assumption. "Ha, not me! I'll just be a stripper or something. Or maybe I'll find a rich old woman and be a sugar baby."

We all had to laugh at that comment, even though I'm pretty sure he wasn't kidding. Cartman chimed in, "That's totally weak dude, old ladies are nasty!"

Kenny winked at him suggestively. "Not if they give you free stuff!"

As the conversation continued, the bus pulled up to the sidewalk and we slowly gathered our belongings and stepped inside.

• • •

I swear, if I didn't have my sugar-free peach rings to keep me occupied, I would have passed out on my desk by now. They're my favorite candy, and I was relieved my mom packed them for me today. I love pulling them apart and feeling the sugary-substitute crunch between my teeth. Being the smartest kid in my Algebra class (and in my grade), I kind of have to stay awake to answer any and all of Mr. Garrison's questions, since I'm literally the only one with enough guts to raise my hand. Well actually, that's a lie—Wendy is pretty smart too. She never gets a wrong answer and she's always helping people who need the tutoring. In my opinion, she's fucking incredible. She's intelligent, she cares about everyone, she stands up for what she believes in, and she's fucking beautiful. Her long, black hair is so silky and shiny and she smells like vanilla and peaches. I've almost told her how I feel on multiple occasions, but then I remember that Stan—my best friend in the whole world—has an extremely long history with her, and I wouldn't risk that friendship for anything.

To be honest though, I'm kind of a sucker. There probably isn't a single girl I haven't had a crush on at some point. I've gone on a couple dates over the past few years, but none of them have been too successful. It might be because I'm too insecure, or maybe I'm just too ugly. Or maybe I'm too nice—yeah, that's probably it. That saying "Nice guys finish last" couldn't apply to anyone more than it does to me.

Ever since I was with Leslie, who just ended up being a fucking sentient advertisement, I've been hyper-aware of the fact that none of my relationships have ever worked out. I truly believed that she loved me, and now whenever a girl gives me any sort of attention, I can't help but lose myself in them. And when it's done, I'm left with that same empty feeling I'm always left with, and there's nothing I can do to make it any better.

A couple of months ago, I went on a date with Bebe. I was amazed when she said yes because she's so obviously out of my league, but I let my excitement take over anyway. Since we're still too young to drive, my mom drove us to one of the fancier restaurants in Denver. I worked almost every day raking leaves for a couple weeks just to be able to pay for it. It was a nice night, we talked a lot, and everything seemed to be going great. We didn't kiss, but I didn't really mind because that's not why I go on dates. The thing was, she didn't tell me she wasn't interested until the next day at school. I went up to her and hugged her as if we were together, then she looked back awkwardly at her friends before pulling me aside and telling me how she really felt. I was fucking humiliated, to put it bluntly. I couldn't even say anything. I just watched her walk away as I fell to pieces inside. But as I do with everything else in my life, I internalized it. I never let anyone know that Bebe dumping me felt like a fucking knife to the chest.

"Kyle… Kyle… KYLE!" I was awoken from my loathsome stupor by Mr. Garrison banging his hand on my desk and unintentionally spitting in my face. Well, so much for paying attention. "Are you back from space? Would you like to participate?" He was glaring at me so intently, he definitely could have burnt a hole into my skull if he continued.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir." I took a deep breath as I squinted up at the board. "Um… that looks like a quadratic equation, right? So you would use the quadratic formula to solve it. You'd substitute 2 for a, -8 for b, and -24 for c."

Mr. Garrison's expression changed quickly. "Well, that's absolutely right, Kyle! Now, can any of you other little assholes tell me the two answers you get from inputting the numbers?" He turned back around and started writing on the chalkboard. I hoped that meant he wasn't going to try and get any other answers out of me for the rest of the class.

I laid my head down on my desk, but not before looking across the room and sneaking a glance at Wendy, who was diligently doing her work.

• • •

There's always something crazy happening in the cafeteria at lunchtime. Kids are pushing each other out of the lunch line and everyone is trying to get a seat at one of the few tables that aren't broken. Luckily, me and the guys have a smaller, quieter table in the back that no one dares to try and take. As I plod towards the table, Stan, who I barely notice is standing in line for lunch, grabs me by the coat sleeve and drags me into line with him.

"Hey dude, I saved you a spot," he whispers as he quickly looks down the lunch line, making sure no one saw his clever maneuver.

I chuckle softly into my coat. "Don't worry dude, my mom made me a lunch for today. I'll stand with you, though."

Stan let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God, I was so bored. You sure you don't want anything? I don't mind buying you some chips or something." He gave me a small, assuring smile. I tried to smile back, but my self-loathing got the best of me when I realized that my best friend was more attractive than me, too. He's a football player, so he's pretty fit, and he's like the nicest person I've ever known. You'd think since I've known him all my life that I'd find some negative quality about him that bugs me, but nope. He's so fucking considerate and genuine, sometimes I just wanna shake him and scream "DO SOMETHING ANNOYING YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"I'm fine Stan, thanks though." I put on the most convincing smile I could possibly muster as I continued. "So, how're things with Red going?"

He'd been dating Red on-and-off since October. I wasn't sure how I felt about the relationship; whenever Stan ends up with a girl, it always seems like he's doing it just because he's lonely. I wish he'd understand that he doesn't need to be with a girl to be happy. I tell him all the time about how he has so many other people who care about him, like his friends and family and football buddies, but he never listens to a word I say. Sometimes I think he complains to me just to hear himself talk, but I don't mind. I like being able to help Stan with his problems and forget about mine for a while.

He took a deep breath when he heard Red's name. "Ugh, dude, you have no idea," he exasperated as he rolled his eyes. "She's been stressing me the fuck out lately about the winter dance and my schoolwork and not spending enough time with her because of football. I'm just so sick of it." The contentment slowly fell from his face and a sullen look took its place. "Plus… my dad finally moved out today. It just doesn't seem real. And Red's not doing me any favors. Aren't girlfriends supposed to like, be there for you when you're going through some shit?"

As we neared the front of the lunch line, I gave him a firm pat on the back and I lowered my voice to a considerate whisper. "Dude, you don't need a girlfriend to make you feel better. You know I'm here for you, whatever you need." I wasn't much taller than him, but he looked up at me and a small, yet recognizable smile started to form on his face.

"Thanks dude, that means a lot." He then turned to the cashier, paid for his food, and we strolled over to the lunch table at the far end of the cafeteria.

We were greeted by Kenny and Cartman, who were already sitting down and eating. Kenny gets his lunch for free, and Cartman always packs like three sandwiches and a full bag of Cheesy Poofs, because well, he's a fucking fat ass.

"Sup fags," Cartman mumbled without looking up from his sandwich. Kenny nodded at us, to which we returned the favor.

I sat down next to Stan and pulled out my lunch. It was kind of embarrassing that my mom still made my lunch every once in awhile, but I had to admit that she knew her shit. She packed me those peach rings (which I had already eaten more than half of), a peanut butter and banana sandwich, some sour cream and onion chips, and a red Gatorade. Plus I still had that granola bar from earlier—I figured I'd give it to Kenny later if he was still hungry.

Taking a bite of the pizza he just bought, Stan began to recall his latest football practice. "So you guys, the funniest thing happened at football last night. Craig's little sister came to watch our drills and she was ripping on him the entire time. She was all like, 'You fucking suck!' and 'You throw like a bitch!'"

Cartman cackled like a hyena, allowing some of his nasty spit to shoot through the air. "Dude, that's fuckin' awesome! Craig is such an asshole."

Stan laughed to himself as he took a sip of milk, leaving a milk mustache above his lip. "I don't think she even knows anything about football, she just felt like being a dick. Craig was getting so pissed off, it was hilarious."

Kenny chuckled under his breath. "I wish I could have seen it. The dude deserves it."

I looked at all of them in semi-shock. "Hey guys, Craig's not that bad. I mean, we've never really been best friends with him, but we don't have a right to make fun of him. I wouldn't want him to hear us talking about him, it might make him feel bad."

Cartman rolled his eyes at my mini-speech. "Of course you'd try and take the fucking high road, Kyle. It's a fuckin' joke. What, you wanna make out with Craig now? Is that it? Girls think you're fucking lame so now you're trying to fuck dudes?"

I paused, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Stan and Kenny were dead silent, probably avoiding getting involved. I didn't blame them.

"You know what," I started as I got up from my seat, "I'm done. I'm done with this retarded conversation. I'll see you guys later." I grabbed all my stuff and started to walk away from the table. I would say it was pretty mature of me to just walk away instead of starting an argument, but the truth was that I was just too fucking exhausted to raise my voice.

As I walked out of the cafeteria, I heard Cartman say something about "filthy Jew rats always avoiding confrontation", followed by a "SHUT UP CARTMAN!" from Kenny and a frantic "Kyle! KYLE!" from Stan.

I was fucking sick of getting pushed around, being made to think that my ideas weren't valid or good enough.

I quickly pulled out my phone, making sure no teachers were around to see it. I pulled up my messages and wrote out a text to Cartman. "Back of the school, 3 PM." I'd show him exactly how I fucking felt.

I was staring so intently at my phone, I forgot to look where I was going and ended up bumping into someone. "Oh, I'm sorr—"

"Watch where you're going, fuck face." I looked up to find staggering, muscly Clyde blocking my path. He was taller than me by at least a few inches and he was super beefy, too. He was on the football team and the basketball team, a feat I could only dream of achieving. His red varsity jacket smelled like B.O. and he looked like he'd been sweating.

My face contorted as I tried to smile. "Sorry, Clyde. I haven't seen you in awhile." Why was I awkwardly trying to make conversation when all I wanted to do was be alone? Fucking idiot.

He shot me an underhanded smirk, making me wish I had just walked away. "Oh yeah, I'd be seeing you a lot more if you had tried out for the basketball team. What happened to that?"

I froze up and my hands went icy cold. Cartman calling me gay is one thing, but there are some lines you just shouldn't cross with me. I looked down and started fiddling with my clammy fingers. "Uh actually, I did try out. I, uh… didn't make the cut."

"That's right, I remember hearing something about that!" His voice was loud and obnoxious and his expression was wildly sarcastic. "Well, good luck next year, right champ?" He nudged me aside and patted me on the shoulder as he walked towards the cafeteria. Who did he think he was, talking to me like I was a fucking toddler?

I didn't look back at him. I'm sure he would have something else clever to say, or maybe he'd wink at me arrogantly. I didn't want to know. I just looked down at the floor and tried as hard as I could to keep tears from welling up in my eyes.

I was done with today. I just wanted to go home. But I needed to talk to Cartman first.

• • •

Finally, the school day was over. During my last class, Stan rushed up to me and asked if I was okay after what happened at lunch—I made damn sure he believed I was fine. I saw Wendy walking down the hall between lunch and last period, but I don't think she noticed me. And of course, with Clyde being pretty easy to spot, you can bet your ass I didn't bump into him twice; I didn't wanna relive that humility over again.

I was hoping that by the time school was over, the temperature would have raised considerably and I wouldn't have to zip my coat up all the way to my chin, but nope. I guess I can't even have nice weather on this shitty day. The wind wasn't biting at my skin like it had been earlier, but I knew the walk home wasn't going to be pleasant, considering I was probably going to lose a foot in the process.

I walked around to the back of the massive building, and lo and behold, there was Cartman, just like I'd expected him to be. He never replied to my text, but I knew he would show up. Cartman never backs down from a confrontation—not because he's tough, but because he has an unbelievably enormous ego.

To my surprise, he was smoking a cigarette, which is something I've never seen him do. Where the hell did he get cigarettes from, anyway? He took a puff and glanced over at me nonchalantly, probably trying to diffuse the situation before it got ugly. "Oh, hey Kyle." He took out his pack of Parliaments and offered one to me.

I shook my head. "Nah, I don't smoke."

He scoffed at me in criticism. "Suit yourself, Jew."

We stood there for a few minutes in complete silence until he finished his cigarette, and I can honestly say that out of all of the things that happened today, this moment was by far the weirdest. When he was done, he threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. He sighed loudly, which was basically his way of indicating that he was also sick of the awkward silence, as he said, "So, what's this about? Did you come here to fuck me up? Or to lecture me about my homophobia?"

His laughable line of questioning almost put a sincere smile on my face. Almost. "No, that's not it." My voice was as monotonous as it was soft. I quietly hoped he was listening hard enough to what I was about to say, as my voice could have very easily gotten lost in the wind.

"Cartman, I decided that I'm gonna kill myself."