This is it. I'm finally gonna do it.
I wrote a note for the Cakes for when they find me, because it's not like I'm gonna be able to tell them anything. It's sitting all by itself on my desk, which looks kinda funny because I can't remember the last time it was so clean. But I made extra extra sure to make everything look nice and make it easy for them to clean up after me.
I'm sitting on the side of my bed on my fluffy pink comforter. Comfortable comforter. Hehe. There's also a noose hanging in front of me, made of plain brown rope, which is kind of boring, but I think I want to be a little boring now. I tilt my head up to where it's tied to the boring brown attic beam. I remember when I first moved in, I asked the Cakes if I could paint the whole room pink. Just the walls, they'd said. We don't wanna have to get paint off of the wood, especially in hard to reach areas. I gave them a sad face, like I was begging them to let me do it anyway. How selfish of me.
My eyes trail back down the rope to the noose. Just looking at it kinda excites me. Despite the crushing weight of defeat inside me, I can't help but smile. My heart races. Finally, a real solution to a big problem I could never fix before: me. And now, I can do something about it. I reach a hoof forward and touch the thing, almost reverently, to pull it to my face. It slips over my head easily, and my heart quickens further.
I want to cry, but I'm scared to, because I don't know if it'd be the selfish kind or the happy kind.
This is so easy. So, so, so easy. Easy peasy rubber chicken squeezy. I wonder why I couldn't just do this sooner. Just me being selfish, I guess. As always.
Pulling the knot tight until it's snug around my throat, I reflect on how I'm feeling. Relieved, mostly. A little giddy. Nervous, excited. The tightness feels overwhelmingly right, as if the universe itself is watching, nodding and smiling down at me. And my friends and family are there too, offering gentle encouragement. I can almost hear them telling me that it's okay. Go ahead, they say. This is what we want.
I just need to lean forward.
A sudden laugh comes from somewhere deep inside me, but not the funny ha-ha kind. I try to cut it short, but it's not something I can stop. So, I sit and, with stupid selfish tears in my eyes, I decide to let it run its course. Soon, I can't tell if I'm laughing or crying, but it doesn't matter too much. It needs out, so I let it out. My last laugh. The final funny. Whatever it is, there's no joke or fun, and it goes on way too long. Keeps going until my chest hurts, and my lungs burn, and my eyes feel like they're about to pop out. I'm so glad nopony is around to hear me. When it does finally taper off, I'm left panting and shaking.
I dunno what that was, but after taking a moment to recover, I decide that there's no sense in delaying the inevitable.
I smile. I can't tell if it's forced.
With one final calming breath, I tilt myself forward.
The rope tightens suddenly and uncomfortably, only hurting as much as I deserve. My rear hooves hold me up until I swing around a hundred eighty degrees, leaving them pointed back at the bed. Wheeee, that was kind of fun. My butt can't reach the floor, but my tail does, and it feels like I'm sitting on a cloud. Maybe this is what it's like to be a pegasus.
Almost all of my weight is supported by the creaking rope now. My legs twitch and weakly kick involuntarily, hooves sliding on the wood. Stupid legs, don't you know it's too late now? There is some pain and fear, but it's okay, because I know what's coming.
My head is foggy now, but deep down, I just know there's a brighter future for all the ponies who were unlucky enough to have met me. When they move on and stop thinking about me, it'll be like I never even happened. They'll be happier now.
And...
I just want them to smile.
Mr. and Mrs. Cake enter the bakery, presently closed for their errand day. They carry bags of groceries to the back to store in the ice chest and pantry.
"Pinkie, we're back!" Mr. Cake shouts. When there's no reply, he tries again. "Pinkie?"
"Huh, usually she comes right down," Mrs. Cake says. "I'll go check on her."
She heads up the stairs, calling for Pinkie, only to find her door cracked open.
"Pinkie? You here?" she asks as she slowly enters the room. "Oh!"
The sight of the hanging, lifeless body of Pinkie Pie catches her by surprise. She blinks as the situation sinks in, and a warm smile comes to her lips. "Finally did it, huh?" she says under her breath. Her voice is pleasant, a hint of pride beneath gentle acceptance.
A quick glance around the room later, she sees the note. Much of it is full of apology and genuine love for friends and family, and an earnest hope that they will be better off now. Mrs. Cake looks at Pinkie's still form and nods.
"Yes, we'll be okay. Thank you, Pinkie Pie," she says softly.
Mr. Cake's voice floats in from the stairway. "Everything okay, dear?" he asks.
"Better than okay," Mrs. Cake shouts back. "Come see!"
The stallion clomps up the steps, tired from the long day of carrying bags. As he enters, his eyes widen at the scene before him: Pinkie Pie, hanging from a rope and surely dead, and his smiling wife next to her. "Wow," he says simply. "She really did it. I really won't have to deliver her pies or keep track of the supplies she wastes anymore."
Mrs. Cake nods. "Isn't it wonderful?" she says.
Mr. Cake steps over and hugs his beloved wife. "Life without her is going to be so much better. It really was sweet of her to do this. I know she had said she would, but I was starting to doubt it," he says with a small titter. "I guess we should tell her friends the good news, then."
"Don't you mean the good noose?"
They share a warm moment of laughter.
Twilight Sparkle sits at the table in the castle map room. Her other friends are there too, except for Pinkie Pie. They're resting on their thrones with comfortable, knowing smiles.
"We've all heard about Pinkie Pie," Twilight says. There are small nods all around. "She's been a burden to us all for so long, and she's finally decided to lift that burden."
"Yeah, without her constantly bothering me, I've been able to keep the skies clear even on Wonderbolt training days!" Rainbow Dash says. "I really can't thank her enough."
"Oh, don't even get me started on how efficient my dressmaking has become," Rarity says with a small laugh. "For the first time in years, I'm actually ahead of schedule on my Canterlot orders."
Applejack snorts. "You ain't kiddin'. Workin' the farm without plannin' around a million birthday parties has been the best thing to ever happen to me. Haven't skipped a chore in days."
"Oh, and Gummy has been so happy at the sanctuary," Fluttershy says. "Poor thing was in awful shape when he came in. Being kept indoors and eating cake isn't good for a little gator like him. But all he needed was some sunshine and fresh fish, and now his scales are nice and shiny, and he's just full of energy."
"Well," Twilight says, "in honor of her decision, I think we should have a big thank-you party."
"As long as it's the last one, that's fine by me," Applejack says.
"Don't worry, it will be," Twilight replies. "Now, here's what I've got planned."
Ponyville's town square and adjacent park are bustling with activity. A pink banner hangs in front of town hall, proudly spelling out 'THANK YOU, PINKIE PIE' in large, bold letters. Picnic tables are covered by red tablecloths and stocked with tasty treats.
There are no balloons or party favors. No confetti or silly hats. Instead of personal invitations being given out, the party had been advertised on bulletin boards at local shops. Just plain white paper and plain black ink, tacked onto cork. Practical. Very Twilight. Like the advertisements, the event itself is not extravagant or loud. There is no music or joyful cheering. Despite being a party, it is certainly not a Pinkie Pie party. And that's a good thing.
Ponies enjoy themselves relatively quietly, gathering in small groups to talk about her.
"I loved her, but nothing she did ever really made up for how gosh darn inconvenient she was," Mrs. Cake tells her friends, and they nod in understanding. "She was really just too much of a drain on us."
"Between cleaning up her messes and watching the twins, I was just about at my wits' end, myself," Mr. Cake adds. "She loved trying to be helpful by babysitting, but if I'm honest, I always worried about their safety." There's a general murmur of agreement.
Elsewhere, Derpy Hooves sits at a table with Bulk Biceps. "I think almost half of my mail was party invitations," she says. "It was really hard delivering all that sometimes." The stallion pats her hoof comfortingly. He, too, knows the struggle of knowing Pinkie Pie.
Not far away, Gallus and Smolder occupy two chairs, engaged in their own conversation. "Kinda weird that our professor is gone," Gallus says.
"Yeah, but she did teach the dumbest class," Smolder says. "I mean, laughter? Who doesn't know how to laugh? Even dragons can do that."
"Good point. It was all just bad jokes and parties. First day of school, I thought I'd like that class because it'd be easy. But it's amazing how fast you can get sick of cupcakes and balloons."
"You're telling me. Even Ocellus got tired of studying for the tests."
The two share a short laugh before continuing. Every conversation around the party is much the same. They all love her. Of course they do. But she never really earned it, and loving a burden can be tiresome. Each fondly recalled memory of her comes with a but. It's clear to everyone that life will be better without her. Easier. More convenient. Less bothersome.
Twilight Sparkle approaches a podium and clears her throat into a microphone, gaining everyone's attention.
"I'd like to thank you all for coming to this celebration. We all know that there's just one problem left. She's dead, but she's not gone. Starlight and I have been working on a spell to fix that. So, now, if we can please have a moment of silence, I'm about to cast it."
The ponies at the party grow quiet, most of them closing their eyes. They remember her, one last time. Not fondly, but not with any malice either. Her image, different in the mind's eye of each individual, becomes murky and ill-defined. Not long after, there's just a name and the color pink.
The banner fades away. The tables and snacks disappear. The atmosphere itself loses its party vibe. Soon, the town square is just as it was the day before. Ordinary. Forgettable.
"What are we doing here?" a mare in the audience asks.
Twilight tilts her head. "I don't know," she replies, "but whatever it is, something tells me it's not all that important."
The crowd murmurs in agreement, dispersing to continue their daily routine.
Pinkie Pie's body and the rope suspending it, still untouched in her room, are transparent and dull in color. The pink walls slowly become an inoffensive off-white. Decorations fade, and are gone.
Ponies' strongest memories go first, then the subconscious impressions of her. Her color, her personality, the very concept of a "party pony."
When the most vague memories of her cease to be, so does she. All evidence that a pony ever lived in her room is gone.
The Cakes will be glad for the useful new storage space.
Life continues as usual, and nopony notices that the sky is just a little bit brighter than it was the day before. Ponies' smiles are just a little bit wider. Thoughts are a little bit more positive. Life is a little bit easier.
Pinkie Pie, the pony, the personality, the very concept, does not exist. She doesn't, but if she did... if she did?
She'd be smiling.