A/N- Edited/rewritten story from a while ago. Let me know what you think.

Over. It's all over. Today is the day after I graduated college. My parents wanted me to stay close for college. I got into so many. Yale, Stanford, UC Berkeley. But I had to stay in Colorado, go to Boulder or my parents won't help me pay for it. And now, I have no choice but to go back to South Park. I'll never travel, I'll never live abroad. I'll never do any of the things I dreamed of doing.

I let my head fall onto my pillow. I'll bet Kenny, Stan, and Cartman are all having so much fun right now. How nice for them. I let out a long, painful sigh. Right now, my life feels like a dead end, a waste of precious oxygen. I am contributing nothing to the world already, and now I don't even get to enjoy the life I got. It's all so fucked up. I was the smart one. I was the one that was going places, you know? I thought it wouldn't be me, stuck in a dead end job in the same shitty town I grew up in. I thought I was better than that.

I start unpacking my things. My parents, as a gift, rented me an apartment. They said they'll pay for the first six months, and after that, I'll have a job and I'll be supporting myself. How fucking wonderful. Now I get to live in my own place in the worst town in the world. Just how my mom wants it, I guess.

I pull out a box of pictures out from under my bed, grabbing a random one. One I had taken, at age twelve. It was of Kenny McCormick, Stan Marsh, and Eric Cartman. Kenny was on the left, leaning a bit on Stan. He had a charming smile on, and was winking at the camera. Stan was in the middle, his arms draped over Cartman and Kenny's shoulders. He had a genuinely happy and calm smile on his face. On the right was Cartman. His brown hair fell over on of his eyes and he had a huge, funny grin.

I wonder where my former best friends are right now. Stan might still live in Florida, who knows. Haven't heard from him. I still remember the day he left, and it's been almost five years now...

I had been helping him pack and the last thing he packed was his blue hat. He practically threw it in.

"Stan, you know, Florida isn't cold. You probably won't need your hat," I said to him.

He snorted. "I don't plan on staying there forever." Then he snatched my own hat away from me.

"Hey!" I yelped, swatting the air, trying to grab it.

Stan smiled and pulled his own hat out of his suitcase. He held it out to me. I stared at the blue and red hat, confused. "We're going to switch hats, Kyle. You keep mine, I'll take yours. That way we'll have to see each other! I mean, maybe we'd abandon each other, but never these hats. "

I laughed. "Okay, sure."

He tried to smile. "I promise I'll come back, Kyle, I promise."

"I believe you," I responded. And I did, with all my heart.

I know that stupid blue hat is in a box somewhere. I tried several times to throw it out, but I never had the heart. My green one had probably been thrown out by now. Or just stuffed in a closet, long forgotten about.

I feel so stupid, missing my childhood best friend. No one is ever supposed to get that attached to things like that. You're supposed to move on, grow up, throw out your toys. And leave imaginary friends behind. I guess it was meant to end, you know? Even if he had stayed here, we probably would've drifted away in high school. That's what happened to most friendships, right? I mean, I thought Stan and I were different, but clearly we weren't.

Then my eyes fall on Kenny. The day before he ran away, he came to my house. He was so pissed off about something. He rang the doorbell at least four times in eight seconds.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I shouted at the annoying doorbell.

I threw open the door to see Kenny, covered in snow. It looked like he'd slept outside, and maybe he had. I couldn't tell if he'd been crying or not, but from the way he was avoiding looking at me, I guessed that he had. He was glaring at the floor with pure anger.

"What's wrong, Kenny?" I asked slowly.

"I hate this town," he said, barely waiting for me to finish the question. "I hate my dad, I hate my mom, I hate my brother. I hate our stupid school, I hate the fact that Stan left. I can't stand it anymore."

I didn't respond. I stood, holding the doorknob, dumbfounded.

Luckily, he didn't expect me to have anything to say. "I hate being so unlucky, I hate the drama here, I hate Cartman's voice, I hate our teachers, and I hate my life."

His pale blue eyes lifted to meet my green ones. They were bloodshot and puffy. "Do you have any clue how I feel all the time, Kyle? My parents are alcoholics, they're never home, and they couldn't care less about me."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I stared back into his blue eyes, but it hurt to look at them. I averted my gaze and stared at my shoes as if they were the most interesting things in the world.

"I'm sorry, Kyle, I'm sorry," he said softly. "Remember that."

I blinked in confusion and looked back up at him. "Sorry for what?"

He smiled sadly. "Just remember that I'm sorry, okay, Kyle? I'm honestly, really, really sorry. I apologize with all my heart and soul. Just tell me that you understand and that you forgive me. Please."

I didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but I figured if it made him happy... "I understand, Kenny, and I forgive you..." I said slowly.

"Thanks, Kyle," he whispered. "Thanks." A curious smile crept upon his lips and he turned away and left.

Maybe if I'd asked him to spend the night, or demanded he explain, or even just give him a hug and told him everything would be fine, he would've stayed. But that was the last time I'd ever seen Kenny, as well as the last time I expect to see him. It's stupid to think I could've stopped him, anyway. Kenny was stubborn. He couldn't be talked out of anything. He couldn't be talk out of a fight, or a hook up, or another shot. There was nothing I could've done.

I look at Cartman. I have a last memory of him, too, though we've spoken since. It was the day before he left. He came to my house and told me what had happened.

"Kyle..." he started, staring at his feet. "My mom... she got wasted last night. She passed out in the middle of the street. She got hit by a truck... She's dead."

I gasped. "Oh, God, Cartman, I'm so sorry..."

He looked up at me, looking so empty and hopeless. "I'm leaving, Kyle. I'm leaving South Park."

My breath caught in my throat. "Oh."

He blinked slowly and sighed. "I'm not coming back. I'm moving away. I can't stay here, where everyone will always tell me how sad it is that my mom died so young. I don't want people telling me what I know."

"But, Cartman..." I couldn't find an argument. He was completely right.

"Kyle, I'm sorry. I know it was hard on us when Stan moved, and when Kenny ran away. I don't want to put you through this again, but I just can't stay here."

I nodded. "Yeah. I know."

"See ya, Jew," he said, making his voice as cheery as he could.

I've heard from Cartman a bit through the past few years, but he's busy with work and rent. He doesn't have much time on his hands anymore for lonely, needy friends.

I stare at the picture for what seems like hours. My three best friends had left me here in South Park, by myself. I hope they're all happier that I am. Maybe they're doing something worthwhile.