Dear Stan (Style Fanfic)

Dear Stan

Dear Stan,
The day you vanished from this wretched world was the day that my eternal torture truly began.
Tears pelted down my eyes strand by strand.
The thought of never seeing those atlantic eyes again made my heart crumble like loose sand.

It all began in the fourth grade.
I was helping Eric with his hamburger stand, as many of the other kids began to invade.
When you walked up to me, your amber hair muffled and your mischievous eyes somewhat faded.
You puttered out the four most beautiful words: "Kyle, I love you."
My heart began to go rapid and my eyes started to fill with dew.
That was when I noticed how beautiful you were.
With strawberry red lips and peachy skin, my internal emotions began to go into a wild stir.

From that day on, I lusted more and more.
Every time you came past me, your beauty began to rupture me to the core.
At night I would write down the newest features that I would see in you.
"Stan, whose left pupil that glides sideways towards his nose, it reminds me of a beautiful dusty jewel."

Then there was Wendy.
She who you lusted after from the moment you saw her, which soon became deadly.
I continuously watched you chase towards her like a predator after its prey.
It made me tumble with jealousy like a thrown ashtray.
Watching you kiss and play with her leather black hair made me want to push her off the nearest cliff.
That was until she dumped you, and your personality became hollow and stiff.

That was the worst I had seen of you.
You constantly layed in bed, grasping the one and only thing she had given you.
A little red valentine's day bear.
"Kyle, what did I do wrong? This feels so unfair."
I'll never forget how cloudy your eyes were in those days.
It was as if your broken pupil bleed out into both of your eyes, creating the most ashy kind of haze.
Destroying the storm in your then scattered soul was like going through a maze.
We ended up burning that symbolic bear.
It only seemed fair.

Later I would see the engraved "X" on your chest.
You wore it like it was some sort of homemade vest.
You displayed it as if it was a piece of beautiful art.
Every time I saw it I couldn't help but feel hollow and tart.
I would have yet to realize that you were displaying your shattered heart.

Sophomore year came around.
Our friendship began to disband and all you ever presented was that of a simple frown.
The fear of worry began to blossom over me.
To the point it felt like my where was being stung by a cluster of bees.
That is when I decided to give you a visit.
Your mother let me in, the first thing I heard was the sound of bacon grilling on a skillet.
"Stan should be upstairs dear."
I peered in, as I had done many times before, but this time it felt off, like everything was out of gear.

I walked to your room, where I was hoping to yet again see those blueberry eyes.
I looked on the bed, under the bed, in the closet and even in-between the blinds.
You were nowhere to be found.
My fear continued to make my heart pound.

"Stan? Stan?!!!"
Where are you, my dearest humble and loveable man?
That is when I noticed the bathroom light.
The door creaked open, I peered in to see the most unbearable and loathsome sight.

You were spawn on the bathroom floor.
Your enchanting eyes stuck together by the tears that refused to pour.
A knife was scraped into the middle of your self inflicted "X".
It was a final turn of the chapter of your life that was so haunting, mysterious and yet so complex.

Pain attacked my body as if I had jumped into a pile of thorns.
Agony began to plaque my soul in many forms.
I began to cry your name like thunder in a strong storm.
I cradled you in my teary blood stained arms.
"Stan... why... my dearest why?..."
To this day, I have yet to say my final goodbye.

Your memory continues to absorb my thoughts.
To the point I cannot sleep most nights.
It is as if you purposefully haunt me.
For reasons that have yet to be seen.

My mother has left an unopened envelope from you on my desk.
It has yet to be open, as I choose to wait until dusk.
Which seems to be now my dearest.
Hopefully as I read this, it will put my craving to hear your voice to rest...

Oh Stan, my hauntingly handsome luscious!
Why didn't you tell me this!?
That you have lusted after me after all these years!?
Was it out of trembling fear!?
Was it because you were afraid to have your spirit once again feel like a crushed pear!?
Oh my lovely, you could have told me!
You should have told me!
Oh how I knew you and I were meant to be!

Dear Stan,
My charming, handsome, loving, hollow, and broken hearted man.
Please forgive me for not expressing my true feelings of lust!
Oh how my soul yet again feels like powdered dust!
You never deserved this, your fate was never meant to be!
This is all because of me!
If only I was honest, your oceanic eyes wouldn't be shut.
If only I was honest, your portrait wouldn't be covered in dust.
If only I was honest, your emotions wouldn't have decided to dramatically combust.
If only I was honest, your beautiful soul wouldn't be buried underneath six feet of moistened dust.
Oh my dearest Stan, I am so sorry!
If only there could have been more to our love story!

-Kyle Broflovski