Random and slightly pointless introduction: Hey so guess what! I haven't died! After a lot of laziness and a lot of writer's block, I finally bring you... Stan's chapter. Sorry it took so long, and sorry it's not worth the wait (better than Kyle's chapter, though, in my opinion.)
Song: Winter by Bayside. I quite like this song, actually.
When winter falls next year
I rolled out of bed slowly, pulling part of the covers with me. I lay on the floor for maybe five minutes before getting up and getting ready. I checked the clock, realizing that if I didn't leave now, I'd be late. So I ran downstairs, grabbed an apple and started to leave.
I'll be holding on to anything nailed down
"Oh, Stan," my mother said. "you got a letter." She waved around a little envelope.
As for being patient
I bit into the apple. It tasted disgusting. "Oh? Who's it from?"
With fate and all it's getting old
"I don't know. It doesn't say." She showed it to me. It just had my name written on it.
And my mind is slowly changing
"Sketchy," I replied, grabbing the envelope and walking to the door. "Bye, mom!"
I'm calling all my oldest friends
I got to the bus stop, and saw something strange. It was just Cartman. No Kenny, No Kyle. And I was frequently the latest one. I never got there before Kyle.
Saying sorry for this mess we're in
I got closer, and it just got weirder. Cartman stood silently, his head down. Wait, was he crying? A little drop slipping from his nose answered that question before falling and making a little dent in the snow.
And I'm waiting, waiting
"Cartman?" I asked. "Are you okay?"
For the sun to come and melt this snow
He didn't seem to hear me, so I placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Dude, are you alright?"
Wash away the pain
"I'm fine," he said without looking up, his voice cracking.
And give me back control, control
And with that, I decided to let it go. The bus just got here anyway.
An angel got his wings
I sat in my third period class, bored out of my mind. I remembered the letter and pulled it out. Might as well read it. I don't have anything better to do.
And we'll hold our heads up
Hey Stan,
Knowing that he's fine
This is Kenny, in case you were wondering.
We'd all be lucky
So there are only a handful of people and things that I truly admire. You, my friend, are one of them.
To have a love like that in a lifetime
Ever since we were little, I've always wanted to be like you. I never tried, because I knew I'd fail. I could never be the nice, funny, caring, good-natured, sensitive, and generous guy that you are. But you can do it so easily. You were just always such a good person, to everyone.
Should we still set his plate?
I never could even come close to being like you. It was kind of sad, really, especially when we were little. I'd always be waiting for the moment where you wanted to hang out with me, just me, so I could get closer to you. But that never happened.
Should we still save his chair?
I'm sure you're wondering why I'm saying all of this. Well, the truth is, I never could say it to you, because I was too embarrassed about it. But that's not really a problem anymore, because by the time you read this, I'll be dead.
Should we still buy him gifts?
I stopped reading, and my heart starting beating really hard. Like, you know how if you do something really bad or something, and then someone catches you, you start feeling sick and really guilty and your heart starts beating so much that you're shaking and sweating? That's how I felt.
And if we don't, did we not care?
I rose my hand tentatively and swallowed nervously. "What, Stan?" the teacher said.
It makes you think
"I, um, I'm not feeling well... I just... I just, um, have to go to the nurse and lie down or som- or something..." I stuttered, tripping over all of my words.
About the life you've led
"Okay, Stan-" the teacher started to say, but I was already out the door.
The shit you've done
I slipped down the hall, and sat down against my locker, looking back at the letter.
The things you've said
But that's not really a problem anymore, because by the time you read this, I'll be dead.
And its grounding, grounding.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I continued reading.
I've been feeling 3 feet tall this month
Yeah, yeah, you got a suicide letter. How dramatic of me, I know.
Hardly indestructible
A suicide letter. Is this a joke? It can't be a suicide letter. This is Kenny.
But the snow melts
I know it'll be hard for you to take this seriously, Stan. I just want to say that that kind of hurts me.
And the rhythm still goes on
Stan, the reason you won't be able to take this letter seriously,and you'll keep saying to yourself, no, no it's Kenny, well, the reason isn't that you're in denial, which is what you'll be saying to yourself once you accept this letter.
An angel got his wings
I'll tell you what the reason is: I'm Kenny. You don't think of me as a person who can feel, who can die, who can live, who can cry. I'm just... Kenny.
And we'll hold our heads up
If I can't die, I can't live. If I'm always being hurt, I've lost the ability to feel pain. You and Kyle and Cartman have always sort of thought that. Well, Stan, it's complete crap.
Knowing that he's fine
I started to feel panicked, and I folded up the letter and slipped it into my pocket. If these really were Kenny's last words, I wanted to save them.
We'd all be lucky
That's when the bell rang. I leapt up and ran to Cartman's locker, which was pretty far away. Flushed and out of breath, I got there right as Cartman was heading to lunch. "Cartman!" I called out, panting a little.
To have a love like that in a lifetime
Cartman turned to me, his eyes sunken and empty. "What the hell do you want?" he muttered.
Friends stay side by side
I breathed heavily for a moment. "Whe-where's Kenny?"
In life and death
Cartman looked taken aback, and I could've sworn I saw his eyes water for a moment before he turned away. "Kenny's gone." His voice didn't crack, so maybe I imagined the tears.
You've always stole my heart
"Gone?" I called after him as he walked away from me.
You'll always mean so much to me
"Yeah," he called back coldly.
It's hard to believe this
I was frozen. It took me minute to realize I'd forgotten to breathe.
These nights in vans
No. No. This is Kenny. He's not gone. He'll come back.
These nights in bars
He always comes back.
Don't mean a thing with empty hearts
He has to come back. By the time I finish the letter, he'll be standing in front of my with his goofy smile, saying, come on, you didn't really believe that shit, did you?
With empty hearts
I pulled out the letter.
An angel got his wings
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be giving you reasons to blame yourself, since it's not you fault at all. If anyone could twist these words I'm writing to make it their fault I'm dead, it's you, Stan. Honestly.
And we'll hold our heads up,
Anyway, I'm not sure what else I need to say to you. I could go on for pages about how my life is complete and utter crap, and how I have nothing to live for, and how no one give two shits about me, but wouldn't that make me a whiny little bitch?
Knowing that he's fine
This is so frustrating. I don't want to be remembered like this.
We'd all be lucky
I don't want to be remembered as the person who wrote this letter. I know that's how this is going to go, but still. I don't want this letter to define how you remember me, Stan.
To have a love like that in a lifetime.
Nothing I can do about it. Nothing you can do about it either.
Friends stay side by side
God, I'm rambling so much! This is harder than I thought. Signing my death certificate with letters to you guys, that is. It's hard.
In life and death
There's nothing left to say.
You always stole my heart
I'm sorry, Stan.
You've always meant so much to me
Goodbye.
It's hard to believe
Kenny
So much to me
I looked up. Kenny wasn't there to tell me how stupid I am for believing this letter.
It's hard to believe
He wasn't there to notice my tears and smile and apologize for going to far with this prank.
So much to me
He just... wasn't there.
It's hard to believe this
And that hurt more than I could ever imagine.