LOSS OF HOPE.
Death. There is naught anything worse, that can extract and terminate all your aspirations and happiness, that blisteringly than viewing a lover go the way of all flesh, and out of your life forever. They declare to you, that in a while, once time has passed. You'll get over the death that towers over your every notion, and live happily. But buried deep in the depths of your heart is sadness. Yearning. And a small ounce of hope. That the lover you once lost, will return, safe in the knowledge that no other will ever hurt them again. But you'd be incorrect. Unfortunately, you know they will never come back. Until that is. You draw close to your demise. And there is always another option you could chose to end your days of longing. Taking your life. Self-murder. Suicide.
And for Kyle Broflovski that was in a matter of a fact the only method. Unknown to Stan Marsh; Wendy Testaburger had been dating Kyle for five years, ever since Stan and her first fell in love with one another, when they were only eight years of age. But before this, Kyle had fell in love and adoration for her, the same date. Ever since, Wendy indecisive of who to date, finally figured to take them both out, separately of course, on separate, and private occasions. And Kyle vowed to never tell another living being, they were partners. Stan Marsh was for her public status, whom as predicted by herself, popularized her character completely. Whereas, the one she really loved, was locked away in her body, stored deep inside, only emerging behind closed doors, in secret. As the years rolled along, Wendy started to feel her heart take over her dominant mind, and eventually she killed herself, as her urge for Kyle had become too much. An Early Summer's morning, Wendy the raven-haired girl, posted a letter to Kyle, a poem expressing her undying love for him, before seizing a knife from the Kitchen sideboard at the Testaburger Residence, and... It was Eric Cartman who found her. He was visiting at the time to discuss the Science project they were working on. He had thumbed the doorbell thrice before realizing something was wrong, as he overheard the haunting sound of lacerating flesh, and an ear-piercing scream. Instantly, he thrust his big, stout, blubbery frame at the entrance door. It opened easily, and to his surprise, it was already ajar. He hurtled as fast as his little legs could take him, and gaped in horror at the sight of Wendy splayed in a heap on the floor, a knife plunged deep in her gut, her blood emitting over the kitchen tiles... It was obvious she had committed self-murder. He reported to the police he had found a body, and after their arrival, they carried her away on a stretcher, and put her gently in a back of a entire town was watching the spectacle.
And now Kyle was standing on the School Roof, contemplating whether to end his life, there and then, or if there was something in his life worth living for. Stan was there also, begging him to come down.
"Please don't jump Kyle, your not Kenny, and once you've jumped there's no going back." Stan pleaded sadly, tears of desperation forming in his eyes.
"Who says I wanna go back, there is no going back, Wendy's dead." Kyle retorted melancholy, looking down at the forming crowd below him.
"Gosh Kyle, why do care about Wendy so much, she was my girlfriend..." Stan snapped brusquely. All Kyle could do was grin and exhale sympathetically.
"Stan, Stan, Stan... The thing is Wendy was not really your girlfriend at all..." Kyle explained, retrieving a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Stan, hesitating for a second, "She was mine..."
And before Stan had the chance to argue of this, Kyle had turned back, leapt forward up and high into the sky, and crashed the ground with a disturbing splat, infront of the viewing crowd. Whilst the commotion was happening, Stan unfolded the note in despair, and read the inky letters scrawled on the paper. The Poem. It stated what Kyle had claimed, it was all there. And it was definitely Wendy's handwriting. As every letter was portrayed perfectly, and clearly written. Stan silently, threw the paper away in a temper, and tiptoed to the edge of the building. He glanced at the bloody body of his former friend, and thought of the hand-written note made by Wendy. Then he closed his eyes tightly, and took the deepest breath of his lifetime. And jumped. Outstretched. And laughed. A pure laugh filled with hopelessness. The crowd didn't laugh. Oh no. They'd have to be the one's scraping their guts of the tarmac afterwards...