June 10, 2017

(excerpt from the last page of Stan Marsh's journal, written in blue ink)

Dear Stan,

Stan.

Stan…

My mother has covered all the mirrors in our house.

Traditionally, when a family member passes, this is what Jews do so that we can focus on mourning. It's also to protect your spirit from getting trapped, or to stop wicked spirits from attacking yours. My family has never been that orthodox, but… you're a special case.

I don't want to address you so clinically like this.

How do I even go about this? I'm writing in your journal. I feel like I'm soiling it. Like I'm violating you.

My mother has covered all the mirrors in the house because every time I look into one all I see is you- your nose, your eyes, your hair, your throat. Whenever my lips part, it's your voice that comes out. My mother has covered all the mirrors in the house because the image of you fades and all that's left is my guilty fucking face, the same face that I've had for my whole life but can't stand to see anymore. She covered the mirrors because I punched out one of them until my knuckles became raw and my reflection turned into a sickening mosaic of jagged and red-filmed pieces.

Your funeral is tomorrow and I don't think I can stand it. Babe, I haven't cried once since I saw you last…

I mean, since I saw your body last.

I thought: "It's over. It's done. He's gone."

But my body and my heart won't accept it. It feels like you're still around but you're not with me. My parents say that I can take as much time as I need to grieve. I don't want to grieve. I just want you back.

I am selfish. I am needy. And I can't mourn you. I refuse.

Your funeral is going to be an open casket. I'm sorry but I don't think I'll be able to approach you. To see you absolutely still, no breathing or smiling, or talking… I'm not strong enough, Stan. My heart is shattered just like that mirror.

My mother has covered all the mirrors in the house because she understands, I think, that I never have and never will love anyone the way that I love you.

If there is some kind of afterlife, or Kingdom of Clouds, I hope that you know that. Know that I am still in love with you.

Or at least you know it now.

If you were here, I'd take you and all of your demons, all the things that were hurting you. I'd change what I said. I would have said yes. I would say yes to you, every hour on the hour, for the rest of my life. I'd never want to kiss you goodbye again.

I will miss you everyday.

Kyle

P.S. I wish

I wish I was the one that was dead.