Kyle's Letter #2
It's not fair. Life is not fair. It will never be fair no matter what deity you believe in. I'm not sure what I even believe in anymore. Everything was finally good. He was finally good. He was happy. Hanukkah was happy. Christmas was happy. Two families came together to be happy and enjoy the company just like we do every single year.
But life isn't fucking fair.
(very long entry and mentions of: self harm, depression, smoking, questioning religion)
I don't know what happened. We were fine. He was fine.
Stan wasn't fine.
And I wasn't there to help him.
I found Stan self harming in the bathroom. He had a breakdown and I didn't even know it. How did I not know it? How did I not see it? I helped him, dressed his wounds, held him while he cried, then put him to bed. I stayed with him until he slept before I went for a smoke break out back.
I couldn't even light the damn cigarette. My hands shook too much as I started crying. I'm not gonna lie. I fucking cried. Stan is suffering and there is nothing I can do and it's killing me to watch him slowly die in front of my eyes. It was really late at night, but I screamed into the sky. I screamed my lungs out, demanding God give me a fucking answer. How could he let Stan suffer like this?
How the fuck could he allow this to happen to anyone? Especially Stan? Stan isn't evil. He isn't some horrible sinner or murderer or what have you. He's a good, innocent boy who doesnt fucking deserve this.
"Where are you!?" I screamed at the stars. "Where the fuck are you when we need you?!"
No where.
Stan is back in the hospital. I'm sitting on my computer. Useless.
-Kyle
YOU ARE READING
Dear Stan Marsh
FanfictionArt by: Burquillos (via tumblr) Edited to become cover by me. Stan Marsh is 19 years old and suffering from depression and self-harm. He has been for a few years now, and it's become too much. Thanks to those around him, he's on the road to recovery...
