Hi guys, just a short one-shot, pretty much hot off the press, and a spontaneous idea I thought I'd just get out of my system before I start a longer fic. So I'm not sure if it'll sparkle with you guys…
Anyway, besides that, I think that's all. It was more a writing exercise than anything, but just roll with it! XD
And let me know if you like it! ^^
Proceed!
There was one thing about Eric Theodore Cartman that people failed to realise.
Imaginations were a powerful thing, and his was flawless. He'd been born into a life in which he'd had no father, and his mother was a brainless mother that taught him no boundaries and sold her body for money. The only people surrounding him were terrible role models, and so he'd had to teach himself how society works. And of course, there was nobody to tell him his visions were wrong. He had a blank canvas for him to fill on his own, and he'd done just that, not knowing what else to do.
Then, there was school. He wasn't very sociable, and so people responded in a negative manner to him. It confused him, that with these people, he didn't get what he wanted. He'd have to learn to manipulate them all. Eventually he found a group. A small flock of children just as lonely and broken as him, who knew no better than to accept his friendship. Maybe they were like family, in the way that they began to learn together, and teach one another. He was content, and might even have liked it, though he still knew little.
The persona...We'd been seven, and he and Kyle had become like siblings, the way they bickered then. They were friends...maybe more than loosely.
"You're fat." Kyle spoke. Kenny and Stan stared, perplexed. They'd never really thought of it that way before...Sure, he was bigger than them, but the link had never connected in their minds...
He blushed; embarrassed at the way the students' eyes flocked to him. "Aye! I'm not fat! My mom says I'm just big boned..." He froze and glared downwards.
Brutally honest, Kyle continued. "No. You have a fat ass!"
Stan responded to that, throwing his head back in amusement and trying the words out for himself. Together, the class jeered, all agreeing the statement was true. I watched. I always watched him.
For weeks it went on this way...Kyle seemed to be the leader in the hurtful name. Nobody called him 'Eric,' it was 'Fatass,' now. One day, at recess, they'd been at it again. Eric had pushed Kyle into the snow viciously. That was the first time I'd seen true, humiliated anger on his face. And many times to come after that, too.
"Shut up, Jew!" He'd hissed. Kyle's eyes were terrified...Some of the girls had huddles together and cried; I think one kid might have even wet himself.
That was the trigger.
Still teaching himself, and spiralling deeper and deeper into his anger at the life he'd had, he'd needed a protector. He wanted a shield, and so he'd created the ultimate alter ego, channelled with hate, deceit, greed and malice; all the black colours of that canvas, that fed on his soul. Its name was Cartman, and so the armour fixed, and like a parasite, manifested of its own accord, constricting and destroying all of him that was real.
Cartman was feeding him lies, but he took them, because Cartman treated him like a king; Life and everyone in it just wanted to screw him over, so he had to fuck up their lives first. He was god. The only thing that mattered to him was that he got what he wanted, and what made him feel good. No matter whom he had to crush to do so. Even kill. Which he did. He never got arrested. He was invincible like that. Cartman, the ultimate defence, which all could attack, and yet none would break.
Ultimately, he'd lost sight of what was real, and what was imaginary, and had been consumed. He'd gone from a life of theatrical exploration, to the real thing. Nobody even knew Eric now. Nobody remembered that tiny little boy, who'd been left to take on the world alone. He was fading, that little untainted corner of his darkening heart. When I was in Imaginationland, I saw him...He didn't belong there anymore than I did. But then maybe, in that respect, I was no better than Cartman.
He doesn't want to die. He called to me, to keep him alive, even if I couldn't save him. That's why, when I call that person, I call for Eric. I acknowledge that Eric is still inside. Still a part of him. I tell him he shouldn't do things even when every part of Cartman is screaming that this is the way it should be.
When he said those names, that sliced at my chest like a sharpened hacksaw, and pricked at my tear ducts, I just smiled, and nodded. Because he was just trying to show me the tiniest ounce of pain he felt, in hopes that someone would see Eric's battle, and help. It wasn't Eric. Cartman is just a figment of his imagination, so vivid, it's all we see.
One day, Eric will grow, and be free again. And Leopold will be at his side, in the real world: where our imagination can be concealed, and people can see you for the person you are. The way I see Eric.
A plea for assistance.
Butters. x
It wasn't too bad, was it? *waits to be bricked*
Let me know what you thought...?