I look at my childhood friend, Kenny, who has changed so much since then. Not much by looks but inside. He doesn't have his trademark orange parka any more. He has grown out of it long ago. But he has his blond messy hair and that same face minus the childish roundness. He still has the same piercing blue eyes but the look in those eyes has changed. They are not friendly any more. They are indifferent and insolent, almost mean. At least they are, when he looks at me. He is still skinny but he has a little bit more muscle now. He's not a bodybuilder or anything but he's strong enough to keep him out of most trouble.
Though he looks almost the same, he is a whole different person. He's not that bright child any more. In his teen years he stopped caring. Stopped caring for others and I doubt he didn't care that much about himself either. Kenny was always up for others' good but all of sudden he didn't give a fuck. When he turned seventeen he started to seek for his own pain releaser. He started to do drugs. And when he had to gain all the money for it he started also selling himself. As a caring person with strong sense of moral I had to help him.
In a year I got him clear and he decided to stop whoring but instead he started dealing drugs. Kenny's business got him out of poverty when all the money didn't go into drugging himself. This went on a while without me noticing anything. I had my own problems. Stan moved out of the town while I had some family issues at home and of course I had all the studying.
Things went on and when we turned twenty I moved out of South Park with Kenny. I wanted closer to Stan and Kenny wanted to run a bigger business. He didn't tell me the reason then though, but he told me when we had lived together for a while. I guess he figured I wouldn't care any more. But I can tell that I do care. I'm just too scared and too weak to do anything.
Yes, I have changed a lot myself. I'm not that same Kyle Broflovski with strong willpower I used to be. I have my annoying curly red locks and that ugly nose in the middle of my face. While I fell in love with my friend, Kenny, I learned to hate myself. I learned to hate how I look and who I am. I learned to give in and let things be. I learned how the world works and that I can't do a thing about it.
I hate it how I love Kenny. I would die for him if that was necessary. Maybe it will be some day. I kind of wait for that day. I'm not sure do I want to live any more. I have only Kenny and I'm sure he hates me in some way. Oh, and of course Stan is still my friend but he has his own life and I rarely see him. If I died, he would forget me quite quickly. Any way, I'm not sure about dying either. I don't wanna leave from Kenny's side. I need him.
So I silently lie in our bed and watch him as he pads through the room trying to find a cigarette. He finds one and disappears into another room. Instantly when his presence is gone I feel a fear creeping up my spine. A horrible pain is shredding my chest in pieces. I want to breath but my lungs feel like they're full of broken glass so I just sink deeper into the matress and wait. After a while I am able to breath again. But I don't care because now I feel numb. I would welcome any feeling except that fear that's still lurking in the back of my head and spine ready to take control of my whole body.
I somehow notice that I am crying. My body's jerking from my silent sobbing and salty tears are going down my cheeks. I wonder why am I crying. I doesn't help anything. Still I cry every day nowadays. Crying just makes me feel more numb. It does makes my head ache though.. But I don't think that's a good thing. In fact it makes me more miserable.
I want to get up and go see where Kenny went so this numbness would go away. I want to stop crying so I wouldn't look so wretched. I want to make my life work again but it's too hard. I can't get up. How someone like me could even have a normal life? I don't know where I went wrong but I feel like I am being punished. By who? Maybe god, I don't know. My faith haven't been in the best shape.
Kenny walks into the room and the numbness slowly goes away. I'm not scared any more because I have him here with me. I can feel again but it's not much better because I'm still feeling awful. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me. He has a lit cigarette and he shakes the ashes on me. I watch the little grey pile on my chest as Kenny blows smoke in my face and the smoke makes me close my eyes.
"There you go crying again," he states in his harsh and kind of bored tone. I just nod and keep my eyes still closed. Now that I had closed them opening them again feels so hard to do. I grimace a little and force my eyes open. I have to see him. I have to make sure that he is still there. And now when I can see him I want to tell him how I feel. I open my mouth to get some of my heavy burden off my chest but his voice stops me.
"I know, I know! You want to be loved. But that's the way it is, awfully miserable are those who can't make anyone love themselves. But seriously, it can't be that hard, can it?"
His words cut me like razors I've been using on me, though his words hurt me more than any physical pain. And though those words have been heard many times before they still make me feel sad and embarassed when I hear him use them.
He gives me a somewhat pitying look before he gets up and walks away. And I realize once again that he's right. I am worthless and I can't even make someone love me. I am unloved and useless human being. And when I think about it, I think I should die. But I can't do it. I want to stay here. I want to stay with Kenny even if I am miserable and worthless. As long as I don't have to die for him I'll stay here. I'll stay and suffer because I can't give him up. Only thing I can't give up is him and because of that I have to keep on living.
And once again when he's gone I feel numb and scared.
I stay and wait.
I hear the front door closing.
I stay and wait.
I'm scared.
I stay and wait.
He's never coming back.
I stay and wait.
And at last I realize there's no reason for me to live any more.