Memoirs of a Stotch

Date: October 1st, 2005

Time: 7:45 PM

I've been told that writing down how I feel into a journal will help me to "relax", to "clear my mind", to "cheer me up" and keep me from being so depressed that I'll cut myself. I highly doubt the power of writing can do that sort of thing with the way my life is, but, I'm willing to give it a shot.

Just to introduce myself, my name is Butters Stotch, I'm 16 years old, and I live in South Park, Colorado.

It seems kind of pointless to describe myself and my home and school life here when I'll probably be the only person who ever reads it, but, I suppose, if my mom and dad were to ever find it, or any of the other kids in the neighborhood, they would want a good, non-vague read, so here goes. I'm really not much to look at appearance wise, I have short blond hair and blue eyes, and a rather scrawny build for a guy my age (I've seen some of the football players at our high school working out, and they look like roided up freaks, something I'd rather not be, so, here I am.)

I'm an only child, and my parents, Chris and Linda Stotch, are still together, and I live with them. For some strange reason, they started calling me Butters when I was just a baby, despite the fact that my real name is Leopold. (When I asked them why they called me Butters, and still do, they claim it's because my hair looks like "butter", but knowing them, it was probably some other lame, idiotic, spiteful reason that they did it.) My whole life my parents have been kind of, what's a good way to word it, assholes to me. I tried and tried, bent over fucking backwards even, to please them in every way, school work, social skills, everything, and yet they always found some reason to punish me or to yell at me about something. It seemed that they were either not satisfied with things I was doing in life, or, they were thinking up of ridiculous reasons to punish me, and this was one of the main things that led to my mostly non-existent social life.

Yeah, I'm not gonna lie here, I have no friends whatsoever. Well no, scratch that, I do have Pip and Dougie as friends, but Pip is picked on and harassed just as much as I am, and Dougie is younger then me by a few years, so counting him as a friend just gets me strange looks and sarcastic comments, both from my parents, and from the kids I go to school with. (It's as if having a slightly younger guy as a friend makes me Michael Jackson or something, just goes to show you how screwed up this town is, like everyone else says.) However, I want to make it clear that I'm not some kind of emo-goth now because of it. I don't dress all in black, listen to Marilyn Manson, and talk about death and horrible voids and shit like that. Do I get depressed a lot? Yes. Have I thought once or twice about cutting my wrists to see what happens? Yes. But I sure as heck haven't tried cutting, nor do I think I'll ever sink so far into depression that I will do it.

Now that you know that I pretty much have very few friends to call my own, you could probably put two and two together and conclude that I also don't have a girlfriend. Yep, I've been single since I came of an age where I could date someone. That doesn't mean I haven't tried to find someone though. Yes, I admit it, I've done a few desperate things to try and get a girlfriend. No, correction, I've done a lot of very "pathetic", desperate things to get a girlfriend (Poems, songs, pick-up lines, the whole magilla.), but nothing ever works. Whether I try to act like a "bad boy" or try to act like myself, a generally nice guy, I find it always gets me rejection. It's funny, I look at brain dead, ugly goons like Token Black and Eric Cartman, both of whom have steady girlfriends, and I wonder to myself "How the hell do they do it? What kind of spark, what kind of "something" do they have that makes girls like them so much?" As much as I hate the both of them for what they usually do to me on a daily basis, I would kill to have at least that charm or spark that they have that attracts girls to them.

Of all of the girls that I've tried to date, there's one in particular that I have a special place in my heart for. She's one who, regardless of how my day is, regardless of how many lockers I get stuffed into by Eric and his guys during the morning, seeing her brightens up my day, even a little bit, and actually makes me happy. Her name is Bebe Stevens.

Bebe is probably one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen, just an overall great looking babe. She has the nicest pair of tits you could ever imagine, (I ought to know, I've stared at them many a times during Spanish class), great looking legs, and just an incredible, killer body. The only problem is though, she's as stuck up as stuck up can be, a snob, part of that "elite" circle of popular kids that blow off other kids who aren't as "elite" as them in anyway. If you dare act a little nerdish, or if you're the slightest bit ugly to them, you're considered an outcast, or, as Stan Marsh plainly put it, a "Melvin."

Bebe doesn't completely ignore me though, unfortunately, that doesn't mean she adores me either. Let's just say she talks to me and is friendly when she really needs something for herself, mainly, math class notes. I'll call a spade a spade here, Bebe might be ridiculously good looking, but she really is as dumb as a post when it comes to school. She's a head cheerleader, but probably couldn't solve the simplest of math equations. (Really, if you want my opinion, the only reason she gets good grades is because she either cheats off of the nerds in school, or she gets answers from Wendy Testaburger, her best friend.)

So yeah, Bebe will act all sweet and nice when it comes to acquiring math notes, but outside of that, she acts like I don't exist. I could walk right up to her, look her straight in the eyes, and say hello, and she's walk by as if I was invisible. But hey, after 17 years, I'm kind of used to it.

Ah well, that's enough of this for tonight, I'll write in this journal again when the mood strikes me, it might be tomorrow, it might be a week from now, who knows, but rest assured, with my life, I know I'll have a hell of a lot of more shit to say.

Butters out.