//------------------------------// // The Average Morning of a Lonely Heart // Story: An Owner of a Lonely Heart // by Just another Tiefling //------------------------------// As I fade into consciousness, my room comes into vision, and I feel the familiar morning drowsiness that tells the rest of me that a new day has arrived. I begin to hear the sounds that often perpetuate the morning rush. Ponies running, birds chirping, windows opening, the birds chirping…… did I mention the birds? Well, they aren’t too bad; I mean, in the large scheme of things they are barely important at all, and yet, they continue to chirp happily, almost unaware of their insignificance. I Think as I stare up at the ceiling. The dark grey plaster consumes my attention, laying in my bed. Well, at least that’s what I like to think it is, but the more apt description would be a glorified sleeping bag, only a bit bigger. After waiting for almost an eternity doing nothing more than admiring the rough texture of the ceiling. I finally muster up the will to emerge from my “bed”, and after throwing off my only blanket, I plop down onto the wooden floor. My legs shiver as my hooves touch the ground. The cold bites at my ankles, and I can’t help but wince. I walk across the room, and prepare for the daily rituals that almost seem to dominate my life. My home is sparse, variety and color seemingly being rather absent, the bleak Décor really doesn’t make it better either. Walking with laboring steps, I make my way to and into the bathroom. I climb the nearby stool and look directly at a still blurry mirror… blinking, I wipe at my eyes and my visage comes into focus. A small horn juts from my forehead. Normally it would be concealed by my mane, however said mane is currently caught up in clumps of matted disaster. My eyes meet, well, my eyes. They are brown...ish, unremarkably brown, tree brown…? Eh, could never really tell the difference. Breaking away from my inspection, I grab my nearby hairbrush, intent on getting rid of my bad case of bedhead. Taking it up in my hooves, I try my best to guide it to the lowest part of my mane. “OW” Ugh “AH” why does “UH” This have to “URG” be so painful? I wish some pony wou- “GAH” would just invent a “OWW” magic Hairbrush or some...thing... I stop. Magic… The word echoes in my head. And the world around me… blurs. Oh that would be just soooo convenient now wouldn’t it? Having something we can all use. But noooo that would make it too easy, I mean it’s not like some of us can’t do the fancy smancy spells that magically Fix Every Single Problem without effort. And all those who can are praised for all their accomplishments and actions. Its soooo amazing how special they are, and all the ponies who can’t cast then are ob-v-ious-ly not trying hard enough. Because they can do it, so why can’t everyone else live up to their standards?? It’s not like I was born with magic that can only produce sad little sparks that don’t do ANYTHING. And I can’t just go to school and learn it because I lack the physical ability to do what I need to get into University and get the Knowledge and Degree I need to do my job, and it’s all Magic Spell A is needed in formula X or you must cast this spell to get a higher grade for this assignment and succeed for once in your life, so why can’t they just take their oh so amazing magic and SHOVE IT-. I reel back as I accidently slam my face into the mirror. My cheeks heat up in red hot Embarrassment. My nose starts to sting, and I rub it with my hoof. Nice going stupid. My ears fold back. I can’t believe I let myself go off like that. *Sigh* Not Like I can change anything anyway… After a while the pain stops, and so I continue brushing my mane. There isn’t a lot left to do, and so now only after a few more minutes I’m staring at a now slightly poofier mane. Opening my mouth, I inspect my teeth. They’re mostly okay, no stains or anything, so I assume that I can wait until tonight to brush them. I turn around and walk over to my abysmally small shower. Shutting the curtain around me, I confine myself to whopping three by three-foot standing space. Reaching over to the tap, I gently turn it and then- Cold I yip in surprise as the freezing cold water washes over me. Scrambling, I try my best to grasp at the tap to turn the water off. I yank it over to the left and wait for the water to shu- It. Didn’t. shut. Off. In fact, now the water was freezing. Growling in anger, I rip open the curtain and I jump out of the shower. Hugging against the wall, I reach out with my hooves to find the tap once again. I push and pull repeatedly at it and eventually I manage to finally shut off the accursed thing. Grabbing a towel from a nearby rack, I dry myself, and the now slick floor. Wrapping myself up, I curse under my breath as I realize that my neighbors must have used up all the hot water last night. Whoever though that having multiple buildings running on a single communal hot water heater was a good idea should be shot out of Equestria with a catapult. I walk out of the bathroom and into my room and resolve to do my showering for the day sometime later tonight, preferably when I’m not going to catch hypothermia from stupid design choices. Putting my gripes aside, for now, I make my way over to the stairs and resolve to go down and get breakfast on the go. The stairs are just to my left; they lead down into the front of my house. Making my way over I stop at the top of them and look down. The steps are insanely steep, and more than once have I found myself scared half to death after my hoof slipped off one of them. Looking back towards the rest of the room, I contemplate just going back to bed. It’s not like Ponies need anything I sell, and I don’t exactly need to go anywhere or meet anypony. Assuming anyone would ever want to “meet” me. I could just lay down and just… stop. Unfortunately for me, food isn’t free, nor are taxes, or anything, really. I begin to meticulously hop from one step and downwards to the next. The “thunk” of my hooves hitting the hard steps rings out around the house, and after only a few steps, the front of my home comes into view. A lonely counter extends from the far wall, separating me from my customers. Behind it are a small selection of Alchemical equipment, well-worn with time. The Drawers and shelves beside them are empty, with only a few actually containing the Ingredients I need to make the Medication and herbal remedies I create for a living. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, and catching myself before I face plant into more cold flooring, I take a sharp turn to my right and the room opens up into my kitchen. Population including; one icebox, one table, two chairs, and several cupboards. Homing in to one in particular I open it up to be greeted by the total of two selections for breakfast. Week old oatmeal mix, (sugarless of course) or stale bread; both of which are not very appealing. Eventually I pick up the oatmeal box and bring it over to the table. Setting it down, I then turn to start rummaging through the cupboards to find the right bowl. I frustratingly mutter under my breath as I eventually find it. With bowl in hoof I open the icebox and scan it for my next ingredient. Milk Sighting my objective hiding under some cheese, I take the half-full jug out of its corner and into the world at large. Wow, I just tried to make finding milk interesting… I really need a hobby. Bringing the last remaining ingredient of the Triade of Breakfast Basics, I begin the very complicated task of pouring in the milk to just the right amount, so that it wouldn’t overflow when I put the mix in. After which I add the oatmeal. It unceremoniously plops into the bowl, making me second guess my decision to buy bargain brand products. The smell is reminiscent of sewage, and its putridness curdles my nose. Taking the Box and turning it onto its side, I search for an explanation. In rather bold red ink it says “Expiration 07/27”. Huh, I guess that explains the smell at least, considering its now October. Now checking and turning over the milk jug, I can see that it too has expired. Since Its already in the bowl, I guess I could still eat it. I mean, it’s not like its moldy or anything. Climbing up onto the chair, I then proceed do the less than flattering act of sticking my muzzle into the bowl and eating. I immediately regret this decision Maybe it’s because my black coat is going to have one more additional stain on it or It’s because I realize how much of a mess I’m going to make or hey, maybe it’s because This tastes like wet bread doused with cough syrup. I resist gagging, and even though the thought of even smelling this atrocity to cooking makes me cringe, I don’t want to have to waste any more food. I actually have to force myself to swallow the “food”. To think that this all could have been avoided if SOMEPONY had bothered to do the simple task, one that even a foal could do, of checking the expiration date. I can feel my eye begin to twitch. Oh, and if only my sister could see me now, she would probably laugh and laugh and act like my incompetence is Ooooh so funny, and everypony would l-l-laugh at m-me. I can feel the tears straining at the edge of my eyes. S-she didn’t do it on purpose, I know she loved me. Just because she went out of her way to try and make me stand out. Her calling me “Sparky” was just her way of being Endearing. I hated it And everypony reminded me just why I did. They didn’t even call me by name, it was always “that weird pony” or the Aforementioned “Sparky” or, at the worst, they’d just call me “that annoying filly”. I just wanted to have friends, but the only person who ever even talked to me other than to ridicule me, was sis. She made it look so simple. She could walk up to, LITERALLY anypony on the street, and by the time she got home, she’d tell me, mom, and dad allllll about the awesome new friend she made and all the stuff she was planning to do with said friend. HOW!?!? HOW DID SHE DO IT!?!? I mean, it’s not like you can just go up to somepony and ask “oh hey you wanna be Friends???”. Who does that? Nopony, but Just like that she was Friends with everypony. And I Have N-no one to… The tears flow freely down my cheeks, and I can hear the plop of them falling into my breakfast bellow, looking down, I push away my oatmeal. I… don’t feel hungry anymore… I remove myself from the chair. I know I should clean up after myself, but I can’t be bothered trying to go through the ordeal of carrying a bowl outside with only my hooves. I-I need some fresh air, everything is okay, I-I just need to calm down. I rush through my house and barge through my front door into the street. It is surprisingly vacant, although that’s to be expected, considering it’s at the crack of dawn. Sitting down onto the cold gravel I lift my head up and inhale deeply. Everything is okay. Exhale Everything is okay. Inhale Everything is okay. Exhale Everything is okay. Inhale Everything is okay. Exhale Eventually the tears stop, and I just stare blankly at the sky. The sun warms my body, and gives me what little comfort it can give. The cold Canterlot mountain air fills my lungs and restores calm. I simply bask in the morning atmosphere, letting the combination of warm sunlight and cool air sooth my Body and Mind. I don’t know how long I’ve sat here, and frankly I don’t actually care. Eventually though, my meditation is interrupted by the sounds of other pony’s daily routines. The rest of the world doesn’t seem to want to wait for me. I turn around and walk back into my house, pausing only to flip the “closed” sign to “open”. Walking around behind the counter, I begin to unpack the drawer’s content; Herbal remedies and commercially legal potions and medicine. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I reason, as I scan over my wares. I have my own house, a business to call my own. Everything is okay. I Should be okay, but, I can’t help but feel like I have some sort of void inside of me that makes all my accomplishments seem in vain, and it just leaves me feeling…empty. I place the last few jars of painkillers on the shelf, and with a sigh I turn around and muster up a smile to meet the first pony that walk’s through that door. I’ve made it this far, and at this point, That’s Really all that mat- “Gurgle” Oh Oh please no I rush back upstairs as quickly as I can. Clutching my stomach with my hooves I rip into the bathroom and I throw myself over the toilet and throw up the soggy crud that I mistakenly though was somehow edible. “groan” That’s… ugh. That’s all that matters.