Cycles
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Kenny woke up. No grogginess, no need to sleep more. He simply opened his eyes, tilted his head, and noticed the sky changing from dark violet to light blue -the sun is coming up-. He lifted the covers and got ready for school.
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It'd been three days since his last death -already monday-, everyone who had attended the party where he died was no longer hungover and they were acting as they usually did. He greeted some classmates during his day, made idle chat with his group of friends, ditched a couple of his classes to smoke with Craig; an overall normal day.
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Kenny loved his little sister Karen, she was the light of his eyes, he didn't think too badly of his older brother Kevin, they simply accepted each other's existence. His parents on the other hand... they weren't good parents, but every now and then they seemed to care for their health -when they weren't too intoxicated-.
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The blond had three main friends, Kyle, Stan and Cartman, of which he got along more with Cartman -despite his 'poor boy' comments and racist tendendies-. He thought the redhead was the smartest guy in South Park -besides from sociopath fatass- and found Stan to be a kind hearted idiot -a bit like himself-.
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Out of his usual group he would spend time with Craig Tucker, they smoked and drank beer together when they ditched classes, it was a silent agreement between the two to not talk of personal topics -family issues were one of those-, unless they were too high to stop themselves.
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The blond was extroverted, flirty, easy-going, had friends and siblings he cared for, despite his bad economic situation he didn't considerate getting stuck on South Park forever. He was good looking, and not entirely dumb, he simply was 'street smart', rather than 'school smart'.
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But... It felt like Kenny had a big hole in his heart, where loneliness and sadness were rooted deep inside due to his 'inmortality'. He died, and yet he returned, again and again. And no one remembered. Not a soul who could give testimony of it -except, perhaps, the reaper itself-, no matter how many times he tried to speak up, it all ended up the same.
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And so, Kenny was bright like the sun -the one everyone adored (especially in such a snowy weather)- he was light, but he was also obscure like the sky lacking of both moon and stars in the night, he was also darkness. He was both life and death, without really having either. The silent funerals never made in his name were empty of attendance. The loud parties were hollow of actual care, merely a celebration for his name to resonate.
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"What do you think of life?" asked the blond.
"Huh?" was the vague answer Cartman gave.
"Life. What do you think of it?"
The brunette turned his gaze from the magazine he read to look at Kenny.
"Life sucks" he answered.
And he was right. It sucked. It was awfully cruel, unfair, unkind, and void of justice.
"What do you think of death?" tried again the blond.
"What bug bit you poor boy? You're asking weird questions today"
"I was just thinking about this stuff"
"Does it have anything to do with your so-called 'inmortality' you always mention?" mocked the fatass.
"Maybe" he shrugged.
At this Cartman was silent, examining with piercing eyes whatever extra hint Kenny might give him, but all he found were the blue eyes of someone who was far too old for his age -those eyes unnerved him when he saw them so serious-.
"Life sucks" he repeated. "We live to work, and work to live. But somewhere in between, there's the memories, amongst all the shitty stuff and stupidity that we see everyday in South Park fucking Colorado, and those memories, like, let's say, those times we had sleepovers, or ate cheesy puffs, and had pizza, and ate fried chicken, and ate pie, and had cake, and..." he begun to trail off.
"Yes. The food. Good food, fatass. Your point?"
"My point" he cleared his throat, "is, that even thou life sucks, and we don't get a break, is full of things worth remembering. And those things make life suck less" he concluded. "As for death, I think it's best to take it as a rest, of all the shit that happens".
Kenny lifted his eyebrow, the fatass always managed to surprise him.
"And what if you can't die?"
At this the brunette rolled his eyes.
"If you want an answer to that then fucking tell me what life and death are to you".
The blond tilted his head and pondered on this. He truly had only asked on a whim. He decided to answer truthfully, it wouldn't hurt. Much.
"Life is... rutinary. Void. Filled with mostly false smiles, disappointment, drugs, booze, and all that crap. On the other hand we have death. That motherfucker. It hurts, is cruel, and not a single fucking person remembers that I died, so when I come back three days later, everything continues the same. Life and death are both shitty things, and I can't decide which one is worse" he sighed.
Cartman pondered on this for a bit. The answer Kenny had given sounded serious, so he decided to take it as serious as he could.
"Sounds to me like you're depressed. I remember those days..." Cartman mused. "Sometimes you don't want to get out of bed, the food tastes like it's stale. And even though you don't actively seek to kill yourself, you wouldn't mind if a truck run you over that day -or any other day-, because then everything would be gone and you don't have to get up again and pretend to taste food, or contain the urge to claw out of your own skin because it feels uncomfortable"
The blond was taken aback. Eric Theodore motherfucking Cartman, has just admitted to have suffered depression. That's fucking big. It's too much, in Tweeks words: 'Argh, too much pressure!'. Still, what Eric had said raised a very important question.
"How do you recover?"
"You don't"
"What do you mean you don't?" pressed the blond.
The other sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at Kenny as if he were nothing but a little kid who had just asked why the sky is blue for the tenth time. And Cartman could tell him, that is because of the many gases in the atmosphere, or that the sky is blue because is a reflection of the ocean or some shit like that. But that would be patronizing, and this isn't the moment to be patronizing. He could only be open.
"I didn't find a way to fix my depression. It's still there. Like a stain. Some days it's big, as if it covered my entire body and everything around me. Other days is just a little drop of juice in my shirt. But it never quite leaves. You can forget about being depressed, smile genuinely, have fun, and feel like nothing can stop you. But then, something just... Snaps... There is nothing wrong, and yet, to you, everything is. And this cycle repeats itself. Over and over again."
And Kenny understood. It was simple really. A stain. A cycle. Life and death. Happiness and unhappiness. Can't have one without the other. The only thing that changes is the amount of each one that you get at in a very specific span of time. You can't really help it.
"That's deep, Eric."
"Well I am a rather insightful kind of guy" he singsang as he cleaned his nails on his coat.
The blond snorted, but let it be. He'd made a question, and had gotten an answer that got him satisfied -for now-.
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