- Kenny -

Who would have thought, I would make it to twenty-five? Not me, certainly. I still die occasionally, once a week or so. Surprise, surprise, I still live in South Park. Hate it, as always. My life isn't good. It never was, I had good times, with the guys. But my life is still shitty. I work as a phone sex operator, weird right? I mean, not completely, given my "promiscuous" history. I guess I was a bit of slut in high school, I slept with a lot of people. Safely, of course, but that didn't stop some people from labelling me as a slut. The sex was always consensual and always safe, I made sure I wasn't drunk and neither were they. Nor high, even if we both wanted it, I abstained and firmly insisted that we would be sober, if we did anything more than kiss. Some of the people, were surprised about this, but others were thankful because the next day, when we woke in the same bed, they would ask if anything happened and when I assured them, that no, nothing happened, they were thankful either because they were in a relationship or they didn't really like me like that or whatever personal reason they didn't want to share. I didn't take it personally, consent is extremely important, regrets happen, but I prefer to not be the cause of someone else's; I have enough of my own to contend with.

I partied a lot, from the time I was eleven. Through my nineteenth birthday. After that, I don't know what happened. I just..., stopped going. I had a steady job, the one I have now, and it just wasn't appealing. That isn't to say I don't go out anymore. Though usually it's just out to Tweak Bros. for weekend coffee in a friendly shop, where I can sit and read, mostly uninterrupted.
Tweek will occasionally come sit with me when he's not busy, sometimes we talk, but not always. I've apologized to him, for how I acted when I was a child, he seemed surprised but accepted it and thus began our sort-of friendship. I don't know if I would classify it a friendship, as we don't exclusively hang out - per se - it's more we sit together in his parent's coffee shop and occasionally converse.
Otherwise, I am unbothered mostly. It is thanks to Kyle, that my supply of books is growing, he told me of a service, OwlCrate, in which they monthly deliver a book of the month's theme. I began about two years ago, while I do not enjoy every book they send, I still attempt to read it. If it is too uninteresting to me though, I donate it to the library. I read about a book or less a month, so I do have a backlog of need to reads, but it's nice to see the pile dwindle and grow. I mean, I have a shelf, but I only put the finished ones there. I don't want them to be "displayed" until I've read them.

My apartment is okay - two bedroom, relatively small, but it has a working stove and hot water. Plus, it even has a washer and dryer in the the place; I don't have to go pay to do my laundry. Is it weird that I find that exciting? Probably. The second bedroom is more of a meager storage area, I don't have much, but I also don't really use the second room. I got the two bedroom place because of hope, probably a stupid one, but the hope that I'll be able to turn the second bedroom into something.
With my savings, I managed to get myself the "next gen" consoles, playstation 4 and xbox one. Along with a decent tv, I can game, usually by myself or with random people. Though usually I use it for larger area background noise of Spotify, as I clean, make dinner, or read. It's fucked to think that I'm twenty-five. I don't feel like it, not really. Life isn't necessarily bad, but it's not that good either.

If I don't have work, hell some days even if I do, I'll stay up all night. Just to break the routine. Reading or gaming, sometimes drinking, but not overdoing it. Life is okay. And I don't really know how I feel about that. It's something I longed for as when I was a child, but it's not something I ever expected to get. And now, that it is okay, I want something more. More than just "getting by". But I don't really know how to do that or what specifically I want. There's definitely a void in my life, but I couldn't begin to say what would fill it. My basic needs are met, I even have extra cash for coffees and books. But there's gotta be more to life than this, right?
I mean sure, I've asked Satan and God, but they can't give me any flat-out answers. I'm on my own. To figure out what can make my life worth living.

Honestly, despite life being "okay", I'm not the happy or sultry person I show to the world. I'm really fucking lost, and not many people know that. My life has no purpose or direction, sex is more a chore, I don't really have close friends anymore, life is monotonous.

I don't even know why I keep this thing.

- Mysterion

Kenny signs the bottom of the blog post, posts it, and then turns off his laptop. He sits on his couch, legs outstretched with his back against the armrest. He stares into the distance, Spotify playing The Front Bottoms "You Used To Say (Holy Fuck)". With a defeated sigh, Kenny places his laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch before swinging his legs over to stand. He grabs his orange parka before heading out the door. A lazy afternoon, perfect time for a coffee.