The Things I Couldn't Say (CartmanxButters)

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((This shit gets dark, so be warned...))
I marched up the road the way I came, the sights somehow looking duller. Bland. Unimpressive. The once shiny, magical looking snow now resembled angels' dandruff or something.

You know what? I hope they have dandruff. And I hope it's itchy. And I hope they scratch it till they bleed out and die and go to hell.

Yeah, I know it's impossible, but keep in mind that I actually thought that Leopold Butters Stotch could love me, and that's even more ridiculous.

Thinking that pretty much anyone could love me is ridiculous.

I know it's fucking sad, and I know that it sounds dumb, but I am unlovable. I'm ugly, fat, rude, mean, unkind, heartless, and doomed to hell. I know this is the part where main character's friends all crowd around and say something like 'Oh emm gee gurl you're fabulous tho!' and she puts on a dress and feels super confident, but this isn't a fucking book.

In a way, maybe it is. Maybe we all are a character in our own story, and our choices guide the words across the page to create-

No, that's stupid as fuck.

I guess life is like......a pair of dice.

Yeah, that makes sense, it's two dice. Two dice in God's hand, and when he rolls them you never know what he'll land on. It's all random, it's all chance, which is why some of us are rich enough to pour money down the toilet and others eat manatee organs for money. Why some are beautiful and some look like feet. Why some have tons of friends and why some have none.

I guess I just kept on rolling the wrong numbers.

Go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

Just the luck of Eric Cartman.