South Park is a fucked up town, no one could deny that.

It's a natural accurance for weird shit to go on, whether it's an invasion of nazi robot Kardashians or some third world country keeping us hostage, everyone would simply be call it Saturday afternoon.

Of course, that's only the tip of the Kenny McCormick iceberg.

Coming from a poor, broken family and caught in a vortex of life, death, life, death with the inability to escape this living hell, it really takes a toll on you.

That's why, for the 17th time this month, I find myself dead, this time on the cold, dilapidated tile of my bathroom floor with alcohol tainting my stomach.

I woke up in a haze, the icy air of our unheated house brushed against my form and shook me to the core. I yanked my duvet up to my chin and closed my eyes, groaning. The alarm on my hand-me-down iPhone 4 had gone off long ago but I refused to get up.

"Fuck you, fuck school, fuck everything," I groaned, quiet and only understandable by yours truly.

I shifted to the side, the springs of my bed rattling with every movement, and looked at the time.

'9:53AM' blinking in a bold font on the screen, I decided to suck it up and go to school.

Most days I wished I had a normal family, a normal life, people that cared. I would look at everyday passerby-ers and wonder what it's like to wake up on Christmas morning with jolly smiles, running frantically down the stairs to the stocked full, picture perfect Christmas tree.

I would walk through shopping centres and towns and see families and couples alike conversing with bags chocked full of shit they don't even need wishing it was me.

Other days I wallow in my own pity party, glad that no one cares enough to stop me from drowning my sorrows with alcohol or drugs or whatever. But then again, if I wasn't fucked with the life I have, I wouldn't have any sorrows to drown.

I sauntered mindlessly into the school, greeted by empty hallways and warm air. I made my way down the long corridors, contemplating whether or not to even go to first block. "I'm already here, I might as well," I replied to myself quietly as I walked into my Math 11 class.

"Late again?" The calm voice of my teacher entering my ear and right out the other. 'Mhm' I mumble quietly in response as I sit down in the last remaining seat, farthest to the back. "I've got my eye on you McCormick," she said, keeping her calm tone, and continued the lesson.

There's a difference between being alone and being lonely.

I'm a seemingly popular person, I have friends, but everyone thinks what they see is what there is, like I'm an open book. Everyone sees me as that one guy that drinks and will do anything for a spare buck, a common whore.

There's more to me than just that, I have feelings and thoughts, but I never share them, only pussies and chicks share feelings and I'm neither of the two.

D block aka gym, where horny teenagers are put into tight clothing, forced to move around, and shower with other horny teenagers.

I like to call this 'inconvenient hard-on' class, and I'm not feeling up to it today.

I pulled my phone from my backpack after many minutes of hastily digging through it and went into the contacts, "Stan, no, Cartman, fuck no," my fingers stopped as I reached the first name in 'K', Broflovski. I hadn't talked to Kyle in many weeks and I was curious as to why he was avoiding me.

I cautiously typed up a greeting and waited. 'Hopefully he's at school,' I thought to myself.

Kyle Broflovski 10:53 AM

What do you want?

Damn he's pissy.

Kenny McCormick 10:54 AM

I don't feel like getting a boner during PE, so do you wanna chill? ;)

Kyle Broflovski 10:54 AM

You know I don't skip class.

Kenny McCormick 10:55 AM

Awe come on... Please? :^(

Typing...

Kyle Broflovski 10:56AM

I hate you, meet me out back in a few mins.

I grabbed my stuff in a cheerful hurry and darted down the long corridors, ignoring the teachers yelling loudly at me.

My entire life I've had one non metaphorical foot on earth and the other in hell. Day after day, week after week, and so on. Constant death is less fearful and more of a burden now a days. I wake up and wonder if today will be 'one of those days'. The days when I'm sent to the fiery pit in the ground after some inconvenient mishap with the guys. Their voices ring in my head like a broken CD stuck on repeat. 'Oh my god! They've killed Kenny!' 'You bastards!'. I wish I could have the perfect lives that Stan or Kyle have, all they have to deal with is deciding which game station they want and saying those two simple sentences at my often downfalls.