My Days are Eternities
Most people I know, and plenty that I don't would probably think that it'd be cool never to die. That way, you would never have to leave your loved ones, or experience the supposed pain of life slowly ebbing away as blackness seeps in, replacing your heartbeat with emptiness and your blood with ice and cold.
I suppose when you think of it like that, it does sound fine and dandy. That is, until you've lived it.
No one can boast the fact that they know quite how it feels to be decapitated, pierced with a sword, shot through your vital organs, run over by cars. Over and over and over again. No one but me. And why me, of all people? I'm no one special. I'm just a fourth grader in South Park, Colorado. Sure, my friends and I have been through more than our fair share of fantastic adventures. But what sets me apart from them, really? Hell, from a mortal standpoint, I am less than they are; my family is poor, and when not neglectful, they are abusive.
When I try to think of what sets me apart from an upper being's point of view, I still draw up a blank. There is absolutely nothing about me worthy of what many would consider some sort of miraculous fucking gift. But it's far from a gift; it is a curse. I have suffered excruciating pain almost every day of my life, only to wake up in my bed once more to go through it all again. I have died in almost every way imaginable, from simple and quick to creative and excruciating. Do you know what it feels like to have your slowly dying body devoured by rats as you bleed out and lose consciousness? I wish I could say that I didn't.
The worst is that no matter how many witnesses there are, no matter how traumatic and horrible my death might seem at the time, when I'm seen alive and well the next day, this garners no shock, no attention at all. Everyone just walks around me as per usual, only to wait to recoil in horror when my gruesome death comes around again.
Oh, my friends started out being devastated when they witnessed my death...for a few minutes at a stretch. Then the next day at school, all I would get was an emotionless wave as our teacher demands the homework I couldn't do, because I was fucking dead! Even my own mother, who has to bear the burden of birthing me over and over every time I die never seems to remember it happening. She just bitches at me the next morning to get my ass to school, while my dad downs his usual breakfast of a whiskey and half a frozen waffle.
Contrary to what most would think, I do love my family, as violent and drunken as they are. My mother does try her best, which is too bad because he best isn't anywhere near good enough to support us half the time. My father is pretty absent, family-wise, nut he is still my father. My brother isn't quite right in his head, so I have to try and help him in any way I can. Karen is the one I love most, the one I would gladly die the worst death ten times over to keep her safe.
I grieve for the day they and my friends will die around me.
This is another thing. As I can never truly die, I could conceivably outlive everyone that I know. But because I do think I need my mother for me to stick around, the day she dies could be the day that my clock starts ticking. It could even be the day that I die, and die for good. But I do not know yet of my future. I believe it is safe to assume that everyone I care for will slowly start to peel away from my life and proceed to their rightful places in hell, while I stay here, slowly building more and more grief onto my mind. Slowly losing my mind.
Oh. What is the afterlife like, do you ask? I have seen both sides of the spectrum, heaven and hell. Hell is just as bad as you can imagine, only worst. Unbearable heat, demons constantly capturing you to torture you into the "night". If you are lucky, you can make some friends in help to help ease the pain a bit. It eases the experience a bit, but not enough to erase the stinging pain of whips on your chest completely.
Heaven is quiet and peaceful. Not exactly the paradise you imagine, but infinitely better than the hell on earth, and actual hell. Yes, there are angel. Yes, you walk on clouds. Yes, God is there to answer all your questions. No, I have not been able to experience all it's luxuries, as I more often end up In hell than in heaven. I have not stayed at either port long enough to really know what it's like to spend eternities there.
The one time I died "for good", it actually came with some perverse satisfaction. My body had suffered so many pains, and finally I was just going to go quietly. My friends seemed to sense I would be gone longer than usual, as they all cried and tried to spend as much time with me as possible, save for Stan, who found it too painful to be with me while I was dying. I hope God blesses him. That time, I just had an odd sense of sleeping. Then suddenly, I just woke up in bed once more, to see that an unusually long amount of time had passed. I knew this death had been more "permanent" than the others, but when I went to greet my friends again, everything seemed back to normal.
I stopped dying quite so frequently. I get the sense that some higher-up had wanted to kill me off for good, but someone, possibly numerous someones, had put an end into the cruel sick joke, at least to the extreme of which it had been going. I am still wary of anything that could pose any sort of threat, but for the most part, I have forgotten what it feels like to die slow, sadistic, disgusting deaths.
I am Kenny McCormick, and all I have to say is: thanks for listening to my story. You bastards.