(Your 16-year-old old Kenny McCormick)

It was night time, at least 2 in the morning. You sat on the edge of a cliff, a large and empty flat plane of land and trees just cutting off into a big and empty ravine here, all alone, legs dangling and kicking off of the edge. You miss your friends. You stopped talking to them at least at the start of summer, which was around a month ago. You stopped talking to them because you felt.. different and an outcast, they would leave you out and don't even try and figure out where you went whenever you just randomly disappeared. It also bothered you how people would always randomly vent to you because you rarely talk so you probably wouldn't tell anyone unless you crashed out or something. You sat there, staring at the moon until you felt a hand on your shoulder. It's Butters, your best friend.

Butters: Hey Kenny...