First Entry, 2010, May 9th
Dear Diary,
"I profess myself to be no less than I seem." Act one scene four of King Lear. The part of the story when Kent (in disguise) is talking to King Lear.
That saying does not apply to me. Iammuch less then I seem. I am student council president of South Park High. I am in the National Honor Society, and am vice president of it. I do charity work and help in the local church during summers. I do my homework everyday, hoping to get a full scholarship that I am already being offered by colleges. I read constantly, hoping to gain knowledge from stories that my mother or others could never teach me. I attend the debate club weekly and won five competitions for our school. I have a perfect body and gain no weight, therefore all the boys gawk. I am the perfect student to my teachers, and the perfect daughter to my mother, I am the perfect best friend and the perfect girlfriend. I am best friends with the smart, capable, "it" girl who is adored in everyway (regardless of her current situation). I am friends with the most known and most involved in the town group in South Park. I am the girlfriend of the Cow's Quarterback and the all around average, and beloved male in our high school. I help the elderly in nursery homes, I read to children two years ago for community service. I was cheerleader in freshman and sophomore year, yet gave it up to study my last two remaining years for college. I am all that, yet that is only what Iseemsto be. In reality, I'm nothing.
Yes, you read right, I'mnothing. I'm student council president of my high school, attend debate club, and am vice president of the NHS society only because people expected me to. I do charity work and help in nursery homes, and even read to children only because I am told to, because I have to for community service hours. I have a perfect body because I fear judgment from my boyfriend and mother and others. I am friends with these people because my boyfriend is, and I just interrupted their amazing group because they let me. I am best friends with the "it" girl because she somehow doesn't see my pathetic side, because I hide it. I am girlfriend of the Cow's quarterback because he fell in love with the side of me that I show, and not that side of me that I hide. The side of me that no one has seen, because if he did, then he wouldn't dare touch me, let alone date me. I was cheerleader because I was expected to be by my school, and gave it up for studying because I was expected to by my mother. I do homework everyday because I don't want my mother to know how much of a failure I really am, and I want her to be proud of me, to not regret having me, like he did. I read constantly because it is the only escape I have from this double life, from this mask of lies that I inflict on others, that they somehow buy into.
In reality, I amworthless. I ampathetic. I amshy, despite the fact that I may seem outgoing. I amself-conscious, despite the fact that I seem confident. I amnotconfident. I am nothing of that sort. I ama liar, and I am nothing to be proud of. I only act as such mostly to make my mother happy, or for fear of rejection. I love the people around me so much. My mother is myheart. My friends are mysoul. My boyfriend is myessence. My school life is myappearance. The hunger to know them all, and to see them laugh and cry, and live next to them day by day, that is my motivation,my drive. Without them, I am nothing. Iamworthless, pathetic, shy, self-conscious, a liar, and nothing to be proud of. I am absolutely, and utterlynothing.
Who am I really? I am don't like to be student council president. I did as a younger girl, but I don't now that I am older. I now see that life is so much to live for. That being cooped up at home most of the time will lead me to miss all that passes by me. That I canenjoylife with others, yet people expect me to be so I am. They expect me to be as such and I oblige. I oblige because I don't want to disappoint. Who I am is a person who is scared of loosing all others who are dear to her. I don't want to disappoint the people who have given so much to me, and have thought of me when I seem sick, or whatnot. I could never live with myself if that were to happen. That is whoIam. I amnotsmart, I amnotpretty. Beauty comes from the soul, and if the soul is distorted, thus beauty be disturbed. My body is perfect, but my beauty isnot. I do not stand out. Others who can wear jeans and a old beat up sweater and can still be seen as elegant, now that is beauty. Those, such as I, who can wear elegant dresses, and fine jewelry, yet seem gaudy, those are the norms. The people who don't stand out.
My only goal in life, the only thing I ever wanted was to make others happy. To help others. I used to think that I didn't want to disappear in my life. Meaning that I didn't want others to forget me, because to live is to be remembered. Iwantedto be remembered by others. To not loose my place in life, to not be just an existence that did not seem use to others. Now… now I feel lucky to be in the presence of others. To be embraced by their essence, to benear them. I am just lucky to bask in their glory. To live in their lives, to be an actor on their play. EvenifI play the role that no one remembers, I am lucky enough to take part of it. As long as I see them smile, see them laugh, see themlivethen I could ask for nothing more. I could just cry from bliss, just to see them alive. People are so amazing, they are so precious. Each and every one of them. They are simply amazing. How could one hate any of them?
I sat in my desk and stared in amazement at every single word I just read. Was that really Wendy's writing? Did I just read from Wendy's diary, or from a really low self-esteem person? What the fuck? This isn't the Wendy I knew and bothered. What the fuck! Here I thought I could take her precious diary and look for something that I could hold as blackmail. I mean I did it to everyone else over the years. That psycho wimp, Tweek. That pussy, Stan. That black asshole, Token. That crybaby faggot, Clyde. That monotone bitch, Craig. That pussy, faggot, bike-curious asshole, Butters. That poor piece of shit, NASCAR lover, Khenny. That pregnant slut, Bebe. That Jew, Kyle. Even our old teacher Mr. /Mrs. Garrison. And now I thought I could blackmail the perfect queen bitch, Wendy. But I find out she's not a bitch, nor perfect. That she's really the most self-loathing person on earth, who puts everyone else on a pedestal except her? What. The. Fuck! Are you fucking serious!
I turn to her, snapping out of my astonishment to stare at her, copying notes from the board. I had her diary behind a textbook, and I sat at the corner of the room all the way in the back, so no one would notice. All that goes through my mind is: How many nights does she go through, crying herself to sleep? It must be more than four times a week, at minimum! This girl has such a low aspect of herself, it's terrifying. Yet, she seems so confident and irritatingly perfect that you could have never guessed. I learned a whole other Wendy, and this was the first entry. Frankly, I'm a bit scared to learn more, but my curiosity gets the better of me, and I start to read the second entry.
oOo
It was time for lunch and I scurried unto my boyfriend's side in the hallway.
"Hey babe!" He smiled awkwardly.
At this point I noticed something off in, not only his gesture and expression, but tone and posture as well. "What's wrong?"
He sighed dramatically, "I'm still trying to get over the fact that my best friend is, like, I dunno… A FUCKING FATHER!" He flailed his hands up in the air.
I quickly covered his mouth in desperation and gave him a stern look. "Shhh! That's their business, not the whole god damn world's!" I said with a bit more bitterness than I intended.
The people passing by gave us strange looks, and I felt my face flush a bit. "Sorry." Stan said, crossing his arms in a pout.
I let my face fall into a smile as I giggled and said, "It's okay, just don't do it again. Our friends are important, and if they want to keep their personal lives a secret, then who are we to disrupt their orders?"
He shrugged, still pouting, though not as much. "I guess you're right." He said as he wrapped his arms around me as we headed towards the cafeteria doors.
There we saw Tweek, Kyle, Bebe, and Cartman already on the table with packed lunches, and some bought lunch. I had mines packed, but Stan had to buy his. So I gave him a quick peck on the lips as I headed to the table we usually sit in, while he headed to the lunch line, meeting up with some of his football buddies. I sat next to Tweek and in front of Bebe. Tweek was in front of Cartman, and Kyle sat over the end, perhaps trying to sway away from Cartman as much as possible. I don't blame him, especially after the fatass's crude cruelty this morning. Tweek was murmuring random conspiracies, Bebe was chatting with a distracted and nervous Kyle. And when I turned to Cartman, I noticed him staring at me, and when he noticed my glance at him, he violently cocked his head towards his food and continued eating. Weirdo.
The oddest part was that he seemed to have a sympathetic expression. An expression that seemed to want to lung out to my aid. How strange, especially considering the fact that he is an inconsiderate asshole seeking only his self gain and not caring of other's woe. Maybe I'm just imagining things. Maybe I'm going insane and am experiencing the first stages of dementia. I inwardly chuckle. It seems I'm hanging out with Tweek too much that I'm starting to have his train of thought. How the hell would I have dementia at the age of 17? Preposterous!
I try to coax Tweek as he vigorously gulps his coffee, until I notice Stan coming our way from the lunch line. He has a dazzling smile that nearly makes my heart quiver. He takes his seat next to mine as he kisses me gently on the lips. I am so fortunate to have him with me, to be a part of his life. He starts to eat a little too excited and I can't help but giggle at the site.
He turns to me with a suspicious, self-conscious face and asks "Whaf?" with noodles hanging lazily from his mouth.
I giggle again, a little harder. I take a napkin at my side and wipe his face. "You eat all too crudely, Stan. Don't eat too fast or you'll get heartburn, and don't talk with your mouth full of food."
"Don't use big words like crudely on me, Wendy." He jokes, as I laugh.
"Well don't go mothering the dumbass, Shakespeare-wannabe." I hear Cartman from the corner of my ear.
I turn to glare at him harshly, "Bite me, fatass."
"Don't say that Wendy, he'll take it as an invitation to eat you." Kyle jokes out of nowhere.
Burst of laugher are heard from all at the table, including myself. All is laughing hysterically except Cartman. "Shut the fuck up, kike!"
"Don't call me a kike, you bastard, son of a bitch!" Kyle retorts angrily.
I hear Stan sigh and turn to see his fingers pressing irritatingly the bridge of his nose.
"Before you go out on a full fledge war, I propose to change the subject on an invite." I intercepted.
"An invite?" Bebe asked.
"What kind?" Stan eagerly asked.
"Who wants to stay at my house tonight?" I asked cheerfully.
Without so much of a hesitation, Bebe stood from her seat and waved her hand eagerly as if I had the world's best candy and started squealing adoringly, "Me, me!"
I giggled and assured her the position to stay.
"Well if she's gonna go, then I'll come too." Kyle said.
"I wanna come!" Stan said, kissing my cheek, while I giggled.
"Jeez, I w-wanna come too! I mean, what if, nngh, you all forget me somehow, and kick me out of your group! GAH! That's WAAAYtoo much pressure, man!"
I giggle once more and nod, hugging him tightly. "You're so cute!" I practically fan girl scream over him. Stan says nothing, and no one either, since they all know Bebe and I go crazy over Tweek without any real "feelings" attached along with it. We see him as our cute little brother or son, or a little teddy bear, or whatnot. His random twitches and absurd assumptions are all too adorable.
"I know right!" Bebe agrees cupping her face with her own hands as if she had just seen the cutest little girl.
"I'm coming too, hoe." I heard Cartman say casually.
We all turn to him as he sips his milk. "Dude, you're not awesome enough to come, fatass." Kyle says.
"Fuck you kike!"
"I'm not a kike, you bastard, son of a bitch!"
"Guys, shut up! You just said the exact same insults in less than ten minutes, retards." Stan says, trying to keep his calm.
"Whatever." Cartman and Kyle say in unison.
"Fine, you can come too, fatass, but I warn you not to eat every thing in my fridge." I tease.
Cartman flips me off as I smile in triumph. It doesn't matter who comes, the more the better, so long as I have enough to assure my safety from James during the night, I'm fine. I just feel a bit sorry that I interrupted their lives for something like this. I just needed protection, I'm too afraid to sleep alone in the house with him, especially after the stunt he pulled this morning. Just thinking about that incident made me shutter.
oOo
I bet that bitch is just trying to victimize herself. Stupid hoe, she's not self-conscious, nor has low self-esteem. She's not shy either. She's still annoying as shit, but not shy. She just asked us all out to a sleep over at her house, what reason could a shy person do that? The fuck? Maybe she knew I would steal her diary and gave me a fake one to make me feel sorry for her. That stupid bitch. I'll get her. Then again, I have a feeling that she has a completely different reason for inviting us over. I'll find out tonight anyways.
A/N: Hey guys. Just to let you know, the "oOo" sign is something to let you know that the point of view of the story has changes from Wendy to Cartman or visa verse. Oh and in the very beginning, Cartman is reading the first diary entry from Wendy's diary. I thought I should make her a character with a lot of depth and a complex personality. You know, make her seem more than she… well seems. And Cartman, with the intention of blackmail, actually discovers this side of Wendy that no one has yet to see. Oh and if you're wondering why this chapter was so long and why the hell has Wendy not figured out her diary is stolen, it was long because I had a lot to say, and she will figure it out… and trust me it'll be funny. There's a LOT more drama, surprises, twists, and not to mention a dab of awesome humor to come. I hope you guys like the idea of Wendy having more depth in her personality. Thanks for reading and await more from this story and my other stories!