A/N: I have absolutely no clue as to what possessed me to write this. Please, if you could... don't flame me without a good reason. Okay? okay. I'm gonna go over.. there.. now. Bye! -scurries off-

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.. or anything else related in this. I only own my mind. ..but you can have it if you want it. lol.

My room was pitch black. I was accustomed to this though, so I could see almost perfectly in the dark. A quick glance at the watch Stan gave me a few weeks ago told me it was almost 2am.

I still couldn't sleep. It's been like this for a few days now.

So, for lack of anything better to do, I sat there contemplating my life thus far. I snorted. What life? I've had approximately 742 of them and frankly, they've all been pretty shitty. Every fucking last one of 'em…

I paused before a dark thought crossed my mind. It was so sudden and so… I don't even know if I should call it brilliant or stupid, but either way, I classified it as a simple and remarkable idea. It made so much sense. So much sense I wondered…

Why hadn't I thought of this before…?

I needed to show them I didn't want this. I needed to show that this was it, that I had finally had enough. I needed to show that you do not under any circumstances fuck me over this many times.

I, Kenneth Riley McCormick, was going to hope for a permanent end… by committing suicide.

Sure, I had committed suicide in the past, but this was different. This was of my own free will. I chose it this time, and not because someone else put the idea in my head.

The only flaw in this perfect plan was how. I could off myself in so many ways that if the situation was different, I would have laughed it was so fucking funny.

OD, alcohol poisoning, shooting, jumping off from somewhere high up, car crash, drowning, hanging, suffocation, breathing in toxic fumes, poisoning in general…

A thoughtful look overcame my features as I thought of one more to add to the list.

…Bleeding to death.

I could slit my wrists and bleed to death. Somehow, this one appealed to me the most. It was a quiet, albeit messy, way but at least I could do it easily without preparation.

…And I could also do it right now.

I get up and press my ear to the door, relieved that no one was awake. Wearing my hood for most of my life has given me abnormal hearing and I could easily pick up the sound of footsteps from downstairs.

I silently opened my bedroom door and crept across the hall to Kevin's. I don't need to be quiet; my family sleeps like the dead. Sometimes I wish they were…

But hey, it's always good to be careful in these situations, lest someone tries to stop you. Not that my family would or anything. I'm just saying.

I reached into a box in my brother's dresser and moved a few things around. Finally, I came across a razor blade that was attached to a wooden handle to create a crude weapon.

Well… it's pretty simple… But at least it's effective. I looked the blade over again. …Too bad the blade is too flimsy to do much. But it doesn't matter, it was easy to hold, looked clean, and after a quick test across my thumb, I surmised it was sharp.

Closing the box and the drawer, I snuck back into my own room and closed the door.

I quickly wrote a note in chicken scratch explaining what I was doing and shit like that, though I doubted my family would give a damn. I was just one less mouth to feed if I was dead, after all.

As I sit with my back against the wall, I have second thoughts. Mostly they're thoughts about my friends. They're fleeting, and quickly dismissed with a shake of my head.

They'll understand… I reason, not fully believing myself. I pause again before proceeding to give myself a deep laceration for every flaw I possessed.

I smoke… I drink… The list seemed endless.

My weakened grip makes one last cut on my body before I drop the weapon next to me tiredly. I live…

I smile softly. It's a content one. I slide down the wall my eyes closing for maybe the last time… My last coherent thought is Not anymore… before darkness consumes me.

And then… nothing.

------

Walking towards the gates of hell with a smile on my face, I breathe in the acrid scents of smoke, sulfur and brimstone.

"Home sweet home…" I say to no one imparticular.

I strike up a conversation with some of the newbies and get checked in, hopefully for the last time.

No, not hopefully for the last time, for the last time.

I make my way through the crowded streets of hell, greeting some of the friends I've made down here. But I should be going; I've got somewhere to be.

I tell them this and they understand completely, some even telling me to say "hello" to Lucifer (Satan) or Damien for them when I visit.

The castle is roughly four stories in height, and the doors tower above my by an easy ten feet. I ring the doorbell and don't even bat an eye at the horrible scream it emits.

I've come to think of the screaming doorbell as horribly cliché, but I won't tell that to Damien of course. Ah, speak of the devil, (I chuckle mentally at this) here he is now.

"Hey Damien," I greet the anti-Christ with a grin. We've become best friends and all since I'm on good terms with his dad and die a lot anyways.

"Kenny?" he questions with general surprise. "As much as I like you being here… what are you doing here? You aren't due until Friday when you get hit by the school bus…"

He leads me inside and I tell him everything.

"Kenny…" his voice is laced with pity. "You aren't due here… for a long time."

He pulls me into a hug as I black out.

I'm not aware of what time it is, nor do I care, as I wake up.

In my room.

…In my bed.

And all I can do now… is cry. Because I was so sure about it… and I wanted it so bad. But I can't ever attain it. It figures. I never get what I want.

…Fucking irony.

Very unoriginal... angsty... oh well. It sucks.. but not as bad as I thought it would.

..Do I get cookies for trying? -hint, hint-

Click.