June fourth 2007
Today it became official. My transfer from Cloudsdale High Boarding School was finalised and I moved away to start my new life. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. The fact that these pages are smudged with tears probably states rather emphatically that I’m not moving on. When I transferred to Dash’s school, I hoped for redemption, but now I find myself completely on my own. Dash will never forgive me and I have no right to expect her to. Now I just have to find a way to live with myself.
Let me take a step back. My name is Cherry Sprinkle, I’m seventeen years old and right now I’m sitting in a guest room in my aunt’s house, crying because, for once, somepony decided to make me sleep in my bed the way I made it. All this because I was afraid of my parents, all this because I wouldn’t just tell Dash the truth of how I felt about her.
My aunt said that I could either go to a new school for my last year, or I could just get a job and find somewhere to live. I don’t think I can face going back to school. I’d probably just mess up again and get my heart broken.
I’ve started looking for work in the local weather factory and I think I’m likely to get it. Sadly, the pay isn’t great so it looks like I’ll be roughing it until I can get a higher paid job. The apartments I’ve looked at either have awful smells or weird roommates. Often it’s both at once.
I’ve found that, more and more, I hate being around other ponies. I just feel so horrible all the time. My aunt says that it will pass, but I don’t know. Maybe it will. I find it hard to believe that I’ll just move on from totally screwing over the filly I liked.
At the moment, I'm living in my aunt’s house and she says I can stay here as long as I need to, but I want to leave. I don’t want to impose any more than I have to. She was actually the one who recommend I start keeping this diary, as a way of talking about how I feel. Well then, I suppose I should say how I feel: bloody awful.
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June sixth 2007
Today sucked. I got a job at the weather factory and spent the whole day being showed around. The place all but has a sign on the door saying “If you work here, life has truly fucked you over.” The pay is awful and the working conditions. Worse than the job, though, are my fellow employees. They’re all no hopers from the gutters of Cloudsdale. I suppose I am too now, though, so I can hardly complain. There’s this one pony there who smells like whisky and vomit who leered at me when I first arrived. I haven’t had the displeasure of being formally introduced to him yet, but I’ve been told that everypony just calls him ‘Pukey John.’ My boss is a complete arse, he spent the first twenty minutes patronising me and telling me that it was unusual for a filly to work in a place like this.
I’ve only worked here a day and I’ve already learned the first rule: don’t ask, don’t tell. You never ask other ponies how they got here or what a cruel bastard life was to make this the preferable option.
I should probably explain; while work at the weather factory is usually respected, important and well paid, this is the machinery maintenance section which requires no brains, no qualifications and it’s actually preferable that the workers be incapable of independent thought.
Truly, if you got a drill and dug for hours from the slums, you would still be above the ponies here.
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June eighth 2007
The last two days have been hell. Today some arse brought a radio to the factory and we were all subjected to “Shoot the fuckin’ DJ” repeated over and over again. Usually I like Green Day but, yeash, talk about creative lyric writing going out the window.
So yea, today is worthy of note because I came out to the factory. I didn’t actually plan to do that, but Runningnose Pete kept grinning and asking me out, calling me “sweet cheeks,” and rubbish like that. Ugh, all these stallions are pigs. So, anyway, in a fury where I could have kicked him in the face, I ended up just shouting “I’m gay, you bastard.” Yea, that was awkward, but then Pukey John just smirked and said, “Awesome.” It’s pigs like that that give stallions a bad name, I swear to Celestia. No wonder that guy hasn’t gotten his cutie mark. I doubt there’s any symbol that can accurately represent a pervert. Actually, quite a few of the guys at the factory don’t have their cutie marks.
Something strange happened in the afternoon, though:
“Hey Gloria, are you standing close to the edge?
Look out to the setting sun, the brink of your vision,
Eternal youth, is a landscape of a lie,
The cracks in my skin can prove, as the years will testify,
Say your prayers and light a fire, we’re going to start a war
Your slogan’s ‘A gun for hire,’ it’s what we waited for,
Hey Gloria, this is why we’re on the edge,
The fight of our life’s been drawn in this undying love…”
That song came on to the radio and I thought of Dash, for some reason. Of course all I got was a snicker and Micky the Flatulent asked why I looked all misty eyed, winked and told me that I knew where to come if I ever needed a shoulder to cry on. I hate working in this hell hole.
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June eleventh 2007
Bless the weekend with every blessing that’s ever been blessed. Today sucked, going back to work, but the weekend was such a relief. I spent most of it looking for apartments and I found a few promising candidates. Well, when I say promising, I mean ‘less totally horrific than most of the others.’ The harsh reality is that I won’t find one where I won’t have to put up with a roommate. Damn it to hell if I don’t hate them all. They’re always so depressing to be around, like they’ve totally given up on life. I supposed I would too, if I were them, but they might at least have the decency to fall in to existential despair quietly.
Sorry this entry is kind of short, but I’ve had one of the worst days imaginable and would really like to go to bed.
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June eighteenth 2007
Sorry I haven’t written in ages, a lot’s been happening. I found an apartment with a semi crazy roommate which is way better than I thought I would do. His name is Mr Yana and all he does is sit in his couch all day, rocking back and forth, chattering about “The drums, the drums, the never ending drums.” He’s quiet enough and keeps his hooves to himself so, on the whole, I’m happy.
I asked my boss for a raise today, seeing as I’m the only one in that hell hole that really does any work. He got all smug and practically told me to sit up and beg. I was so tempted to hit him but, in the end, I just asked if he was going to give it to me or not. He said that he’d think about it. I hope he does, if I’m going to work for the lowest of the low, I might as well get decent pay.
I signed the lease for my apartment. I move in on Thursday which means I’m going to have to take a day off work… what a shame.
I went to a night club last weekend. I looked through the phone book and found a nice gay bar to reconnect with ponies that make sense to me. Anyway, I sat down and bought myself a drink. Before I knew it I was chatting to this pretty filly with a green mane and amazing eyes. She seemed interesting enough but, just when I was going to ask her out, the pony who had been singing exited the stage and a new one walked on. This wouldn’t have been a big deal, if it weren’t for the fact that the pony that walked onstage was Dash. I didn’t know what to do, so I fled.
Since that happened, I haven’t really wanted to go to any more clubs. I’m so lonely here, everyone around me is so unbearably straight it just makes me want to tear out my eyeballs. Wherever I go, I’m either being perved on or, no, wait, that’s all, just perved on, everywhere I go.
I looked at the music line up for that bar later and found that Dash’s been doing a lot of singing at bars and such. Now I can’t go anywhere there might be somepony I might actually enjoy the company of for fear of running into her.
I see so many ponies around me every day who have fallen so low that even the cockroaches have to bend over to spit on them. Mostly they turn to alcohol, drugs or suicide. I find myself thinking that, the only reason I don’t do the same, is that I don’t want to give life the satisfaction of seeing me fall even further. Life is a bastard and I won’t let it see me fall. That’s the only thought that keeps me going, day after day.
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June twentieth 2007
“White lips, pale face,
Breathing in snowflakes,
Burnt lungs, sour taste,
Light’s gone, days end,
Struggling to pay rent,
Long nights, strange men,
And they say,
She’s in the class A team,
Stuck in her daydream,
Been this way since eighteen,
But lately, her face seems,
Slowly sinking, wasting,
Crumbling like pastries,
And they scream,
The worst things in life come free to us,
‘Cause we’re just under the upper hoof,
Go mad for a couple grams,
And she don’t wanna go outside,
Tonight, and in a pipe she flies to the mother land,
Or sells love to another man,
It’s too cold outside, for angels to fly…”
I find myself listening to this song religiously. Before hearing it, I was unaware that somepony had written my life story in song.
Yesterday, Micky the Flatulent asked me if I wanted to have a threesome with him and some other filly. He then winked and told me that it would be alright for my “Preferences,” because there would be another filly involved. I spat in his face and told him to piss off, then I yelled that I’m not a filly, I’m a mare. Things only got worse from there, as all the other stallions started jeering, saying that I was all grown up and that I was a big filly now. I hate stallions.
The musical taste at work really does make me despair. I’ve never been subjected to so much awful music in my life. Well, maybe when I was friends with Dash… damn it, I just can’t stop thinking about her. She was the only one who ever actually understood me, who agreed with me and who saw the world as I see it. I miss her so much, the way she would strut around, the way her lips would twitch up at the corners when she was trying to look sad when she was really smug, the way she got that adorable look on her face when she was confused, her awful taste in music and that battered Mp3 player that bruised but refused to break. I guess that Mp3 player is a lot like me in a way. I refuse to break.
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June twenty-fourth 2007
I’m fully moved in to my new apartment and, I have to say, it’s better than I had thought it would be. Mr Yana isn’t so bad and I get lots of time to be by myself. I thought about going to another night club but found that Dash was singing there too. It seems as though she’s doing well enough.
I got in to a bit of a fight today. My boss asked me out and I, rather exasperatedly, reminded him that I’m gay. To which he said this, and I quote directly, “When a filly says she’s gay, it’s just because the right stallion hasn’t come along to make her straight.” I was just so fed up with his attitude that I kicked him in the face. We fell to blows and I have to say that it felt pretty good to finally rough him up a little. In the end, I was fired which I’m finding it rather hard to be upset about.
Tomorrow I’m going to go looking for another job, but I don’t have any qualifications so any place that hires me is probably going to be pretty much the same. Still, at least I won’t have to deal with those particular bastards anymore.
On my way home today, some stallion approached me and told me that he had the solution to all my problems. I was curious as I didn’t think there was anything for sale that could fix my problems so I asked him what he meant. The guy was a drug dealer. One black eye, covered in bruises, unemployed, living with a mental case who could turn homicidal at any time and I run in to a drug dealer. Life’s a bitch.
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June twenty-seventh 2007
Day three of job hunting and I’m still unemployed, I’ve had to go on the dole but the pay really is awful. I hope I get a job soon.
I went to a job agency yesterday. The mare at the desk asked me for my qualifications. I told her I didn’t have any. She asked if I had any interest in teaching. She got a little snarky, though, when I asked what qualifications I would need to do her job. I don’t know why as it was a genuine question but, looking back, I think I can see what I did wrong. She set me up with an interview for a post in a day care centre. I suppose that, given this is a largely female profession, (dare I call it that) I won’t have to deal with many stallions. I’ll be going for my job interview tomorrow.
Life’s a bitch. Those words have become my mantra of late. Everything that’s happening, only affirming my belief. Occasionally, I think about going to the better areas of Cloudsdale for a day. Just to walk among the civilised ponies and not be constantly asked if a pretty little thing like me would want to come and hang with the big colts. Ugh, stallions.
Anyway, in the end, I always decide not to impose on the world of the fortunate. If ever I managed to pick myself up and move to a place like that, then I would be much happier if the gutter ponies didn’t dirty up the street with their presence.
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July second 2007
Yesterday, I managed to get a job at a rundown day care. I went for the job interview and, it turns out, that having no qualifications is ideal for working here. On the whole, the day could have gone better. The other staff members don’t say much and when they do, they stay to the golden rule; no questions, no answers and no life stories. All of them are mares so I don’t have to deal with any perving.
I start work tomorrow as this was just an interview. I didn’t get to meet any of the foals I’ll be looking after yet. I can’t honestly say I’m looking forward to it.
Mr Yana is being noisy. I decided that a good way to finish the day would be a cup of tea, but I didn’t think Mr Yana would be in the kitchen as well. He’s just sitting there, wearing that fob watch and rocking back and forth chattering about the never ending drums. I’m going to bed.
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July fifth 2007
I haven’t had a day this screwed up since I came home with bruises and what felt like a sprained wing. I’ve been going to my new job for three days now and it’s only marginally better than the weather factory. The building is grey and has a peeling sign that proclaims it to be “A magical experience for your foals to learn, laugh and play.” Inside, directly after walking through the blackened front door, is a small lobby that smells of smoke and cheap wine. After walking past the lobby, there’s a small, dark, and above all, dingy room with a dozen or so small cots. There’s usually one mare stationed to feed any foal who gets hungry or to quiet the ones who wake up. In the corner is an ancient TV that seems only capable of blaring hospital dramas in black and white all day, every day. In the nursery itself is this ceiling fan. It’s one of those ones that spins really slowly, without disturbing the air in the room at all and has one of those dim yellow lights that only serves to make the room feel darker.
My fellow employees are all pretty much the same; there because life screwed them over in one way or another. My boss is an older mare. Her coat is a dingy brown, her mane and tail also brown but greying around the edges.
All the foals are pretty much what I expected; dozy and happy to just suck on things and sleep. Occasionally one will start crying or will chatter on to me for a while but it’s relatively quiet. At least there’s no stallions here to leer at me and tell me what a pretty little filly I am.
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July eleventh 2007
I found a gay bar where Dash wasn’t singing over the weekend. I decided that I might as well try to enjoy myself and I had my first week’s pay. I ended up chatting to this rather cute mare with a tan coat, orange mane and azure eyes. We talked for a while and she bought me a drink. In the end, we slipped out back and started making out. As things went on, it crossed my mind that it was almost like I was kissing a stallion, but not half so disgusting. I wasn’t really attracted to her in the slightest and it only felt hollow. All I could do was think of Dash, I tried for a while but, in the end, I just pulled away and walked off. It would be nice to say that I felt remorse on my way home, or maybe sadness that I hadn’t seen where that relationship might have gone but in truth, I felt nothing, just this strange emptiness. Now I can’t even let myself have a filly friend. Sometimes I just want there to be somepony who I can cry to, somepony to see my pain and somepony who will forgive me for all the awful things I’ve done. I just want there to be somepony who cares about me and who will hold me at night when sleep is held back by nightmares. I feel like such a foal. I said I was a mare not some little filly and yet, here I am, whining about how unfair life is.
There’s a clock in the day care centre. It’s small and several of the numbers are missing but it ticks so loud. It’s like, every tick is a second stripped off my life and the clock is there to tell me, in no uncertain terms, that there’s no way to get it back.
There’s a foal at work called Alfy, who calls me madre. He’s sweet but that only makes me feel all the more empty inside.
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July seventeenth 2007
My life has changed. I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while but I’ve been so busy. Just a few days ago, Alfy’s little sister, Fia, started attending. She’s the brightest filly I’ve ever met. She’s sweet, funny, and the cutest little thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. Every day since she started coming to the day care centre, I’ve blessed whatever inspired me to get in to a fight with my last boss. This little filly somehow makes me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside. I’m so blessed.
Today I took my diary to work to show Fia. She had endless fun drawing little pictures on the corners of the pages.
Whenever she thinks I’m not watching, she’ll absentmindedly start singing this little song:
“When you’re down and low, lower than the floor,
And feel like you ain’t got a chance,
Don’t make a move till you’re in the grove,
And do the Peter Panda dance,
Just hop three times, like a kangaroo…”
Damn, I wish I could remember the rest of it. Whenever she notices I’m watching, Fia gets all shy and has this adorable smile.
It’s hard to explain why this foal has such an effect on me but I’m glad she does. I feel truly happy for the first time in ages. I feel like I might actually be able to move on with my life. Maybe I can make something of myself. Maybe one day I’ll look back on these days as the starting point for the rest of my life. Fia calls me sorella. I don’t know what it means but she seems happy so I just smile. Sometimes I wonder what her parents are like, what my life would have been with parents like hers.
I feel happy at last, maybe this isn’t so bad.
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July eighteenth 2007
I woke up crying today. I haven’t felt like this since that heart stopping moment Dash let my fly away, when she refused to forgive me and let me wheel totally out of control. I know I hurt her, really badly. Today feels different, though, like I can somehow deal with it. I found myself singing this song that mum used to sing:
“Here’s a song I wrote to say,
How much I will miss the way, you would walk in to a room,
And make me smile and I guess, I never assumed,
That you would leave me, that you’d ever say goodbye,
So this is me saying how much I will mourn, now that you are gone,
And it’s sad I know but there is, nothing I can do,
And all that’s left is that I never forget you,
And when I’m lying in my bed and I can’t help but cry,
It’s only ‘cause I know, that I will never see you walk,
Through that door, again…”
It helped the tears flow and somehow made me feel better. I’ll go back to work tomorrow. I have extra credit with my boss, having been working overtime so I get to spend extra time with Fia.
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July nineteenth 2007
hello my name is Fia. sorella gave me this book that shes tolde me abowt. she alsoe gave me sum craones so I could draw prety pichers in it for her. shes seemd a lot les sad latelee I think its all the pitchers im draring for her. heres one of a flour I saw.
I brought my book to work again today and let Fia draw in it for a while. She’s so cute when she draws, her tongue pokes out the corner of her mouth and she keeps dropping her crayons. She’s just a little bit clumsy as she hasn’t quite got the hang of her hooves yet.
My boss left me in charge today, she said something about getting some money off a stallion. I think I’m likely to get a promotion soon. My boss is impressed with the way I’ve bonded with Fia. If she quits, I might just be candidate for next boss, that would be great as the pay would be higher and I wouldn’t have to put up with all the other staff winging about their pay being bad, well, probably I would but as boss I could tell them that they were free to go and look for higher paying work that requires no qualifications. I might even be able to point them towards an old weather factory that’s currently short one mare for the stallions to perve on.
Fia’s singing that song again. I’m sure she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. I just have to ask. She just blushed and looked away again. Maybe one day she’ll get her cutie mark for singing. I can’t help but speculate about her, she seems so switched on. I can’t imagine what her special talent will be but, whatever it is, I feel sure that it will be a gift to the world.
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July twenty-fifth 2007
Sorry I haven’t written for a while. I must have written those words so many times by now but it’s always true. It’s been nearly two months since I started keeping this diary. It’s helped me to be able to write down my thoughts and my feelings. It’s helped me to have something like a friend to talk to. Anyway, I didn’t start writing to get all emotional and misty eyed.
Fia invited me to her birthday party! She asked her mother who came in to talk to me and ask if I would want to. “My little daughter seems very fond of you, meile.” I smiled and told her that her daughter was wonderful and that I would be happy to go.
I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see Fia, I know I get to see her every day but I’m just so happy that she would think to invite me to her birthday.
I asked what I could get her for a present but her mother, who’s name turned out to be Annetta, told me that just being there would be enough.
I find myself having flashbacks of when I was that age. I went to a much better day care but it didn’t make that much difference. Every other child was always getting invited to one party or another. I was a bit of an outcast and never got an invite. It’s foalish I know, but I find myself more giddy with excitement about finally getting invited to a party. Maybe I’m more excited about it than Fia.
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August ninth 2007
Fia is dead, it was a brain tumour. The doctors said that, by the time they found it, it was totally untreatable. The reason I haven’t written in so long is that I’ve been staying by her bedside. My last ray of sunshine passed away last night. The only thing in this world that I’ve been able to care about since Dash said she wanted nothing more to do with me. Why is it that ponies like me get all the years we like to fuck around and mess up the world and the most precious souls get snuffed out ruthlessly? Why is it that the most beautiful foal ever to grace this land had to die and leave me here by myself? Why couldn’t it have been me? What justice is there in a world where such things just happen and not one soul cares? What is a world like that worth?
Once I wrote that the only thing stopping me from giving up was that I wouldn’t let life beat me, that I wasn’t willing to give in. Well, I give, I can’t do this anymore, I don’t want to be part of a world that lets this happen. Life is a bitch, and a bitch that finally broke me. This will be my last entry. In a way, I’m lucky, I’ll be leaving no pony behind, no one cares about me and that’s a relief, that way I don’t have to feel the guilt of breaking their hearts. I will leave this world, and I will leave it alone.
-Cherry Sprinkle.