the day after tomorrow

i love your son

(Quick a/n-most of this is again based on my life. This part/Stan is based off of my first girlfriend)

This part of the letter is about Stan. I know I've talked about him before, but this is the dark shit. This is why I needed a bigger allowance. This is why I did a full face every day. It all started when he was first drinking.

He started drinking after his dad bought the weed farm. I still don't know why Randy decided to leave everything he'd ever known and just pack up, but it really isn't my place to judge. I always kinda knew Stan had problems. But it never got bad enough to were I thought I should break up with him. Maybe I should have saw the signs. But I didn't. I didn't. After he started drinking, it was hard to sober him up. He was angry. Really angry. He used to only take it out verbally. He would yell at his dad, but never at me. I hated how he would scream and cry but he never actually did shit about his anger.

I never thought it was actually possible for him to do anything to me. But he did. Oh boy he did. It all started after a party at Tolkiens. He got drunk, obviously, and he got super pissed. His dad made him wear one of those stupid fucking weed shirts again and he just about lost it. It didn't help that I had "glanced" at another guy that night. He started to push me. It wasn't bad at first, he just pushed me to the side ever so slightly. He got angrier. He started calling me a slut. A whore. A fucking sexual deviant. He made me angry. So I pushed him back. He got physical. I don't really remember the rest. I think I blocked it out like everything else. All I know is I woke up and had a black eye. And cuts. And bruises. I had to use almost an entire tube of concealer that day. I don't know if you noticed, but if you did, you hid it pretty well.

I guess I thought you would say something. I thought you would notice the big ass fucking spot on my face. Or eventually the slits on my arms. He was the reason I relapsed. And he used to be the one I would tell about it. I guess I never really thought of you like that. I would tell you my secrets, just not my emotions. I'm sorry for that. You could tell me more than your massive shit of the day(I know, women don't take shits, but oh boy, you did.) I always thought you would notice how I had to adjust my sleeves.

Eventually, it hit a really bad spot. That was also the time I realized I actually didn't like him any more. I'm kinda realizing now how big this letter is. Sorry about that lmao. At the end I don't know if it will even be able to fit in your mailbox :/. Anyway, back to it. I was in love with the Stan Marsh that threw up on me because he loved me. Not because he was wasted out of his fucking mind and decided his *girlfriend* was his vomit bowl. He changed. And I needed to get the fuck out of there. But I didn't. So now kids bully me because of the little barcode on my skin. I get called a whore because Stan had the bright fucking idea to tell the whole school we fucked on the regular(we didn't, just so you know).

Stan was a fucking asshole. I'm glad I left him, but I'm not so glad I left you. I'm going to say something. I may or may not have been in love with you Bebe. Actually, I was. I so was. In this next chapter, I'll tell you why.

✭

Bebe stares at the bottom of the page. Wendy loved her?? All this time Wendy fucking loved her. But of course she did. This was the one card Bebe knew Wendy always had shoved up her ass. But is her love real? Could Wendy really be her queen, her 'Roman Empire'? Of course not. Wendy would never do that to Stan. And neither can she. Bebe has always been a sentimental person. She's always been the one to pick a stuffed animal off the ground and start crying because she "feels bad". She's always been the one to sob violently, trembling with tears falling and flowing down her face. Thats why, for a short while, her and Clyde were a perfect match. They were both crybabies in their own respects. How could Wendy pull this shit now? Bebe had always stolen glances at her, maybe even a kiss in the dark nights when no one else was around. But could Wendy really ever truly reciprocate those feelings? Bebe was spiraling. She was way overanalyzing this. She wants to relapse. But she can't do that again. Wendy can't be in control of her feelings anymore. Her beret girl, her favorite, forever and always, isn't there for her anymore. Bebe doesn't know if she ever was. Wendy was always in control of the friendships she made. Wendy was always the main friend, and she was the "friend by association". She always ended up just being the dumb fucking blonde. Always the beauty, never the brains. When did this sorrow form; was it always there? Rooted in her from the start, spreading its roots as she grew. Winter has always been hard for her. This winter may be worse.

✭

Bebe, I'm really sorry I never told you this before. This, by the way, is hopefully(?) the last of the letter. I know, I know, you'll miss me. But in reality, it's for the best. At least you get to know about this?? I think I always knew. I just tried to hide it. I mean, I had a boyfriend of over what, like 7 years? He was my everything. But you were so much more. It's too late now, I suppose, but I can still tell you why? You used to hug me, even when I didn't need one(or at least think I needed one). You would cry with me, even if neither of us knew what we were crying about. You just *cared*. I had never really had anyone do that before. It was nice. I would find myself thinking about you at night. Nothing dirty, I promise(unless you want it to be, and then it soooo was). I would toss and turn. Hoping and praying that you would give me a sign that you liked me back. I guess I am fairly oblivious, so I probably wouldn't have saw the signs anyway. I think I love you. I hope so. You stuck with me through thick and thin, and I'm sorry I couldn't do the same for you. I think Stan's drunk again. I'm sorry Bebe. I'm sorry for giving up on you.

Sincerely, BG.