There used to be this girl named Mandy who I lived next door to. We started using around the same time, and our drug use gave us a commonality. I hung out with her nearly every day, and actually really liked her, despite my distorted perspective of what to look for in a friend. I would even go so far as to say she was my girlfriend. Although, we mostly just sat around her house, staring at the wall, not comprehending what was around us, having nonsensical conversations, enjoying the feeling of throwing away our futures. Still, I thought it was the most fun ever. We entertained each other's habit, neither of us having a care in the world.
A few months before my parents kicked me out, I was sitting in her room when she informed me that her own parents were checking her into rehab soon.
"Man," I chuckled, my speech slightly slurred. "It must suck to be you,".
"The joke's on them," she told me, scratching at the sores on her face. "I'm not gonna get clean. I'll pretend for a few weeks, then come back and keep using. I don't care."
"Good. I can't imagine you being sober. You'd better not turn over while you're there."
"I won't,” she said defiantly. “And if I do, I'm dragging you with me and making you sober, too. I won't just be sober alone."
"Being sober sounds like an awful existence."
"It's gonna suck, but I'll survive to shoot up another day." We both laughed at that. "You're lucky though," she continued. "You're parents can't do anything to you."
"They're threatening to kick me out if I don't quit soon," I told her. "But I don’t think they will. But even they meant it, I'd still rather live on the street than go to rehab."
"I wish I had that option,” she said, sounding slightly sad. “I mean, I do, but like, not really.”
“And why not?”.
“Cause I have class,” she said seriously. “I still have to get an education, unlike some people I know.”
“Well, me and my classless self,” I said indignantly, “would rather live on the street.”
She laughed at that. “I’m glad you know you have no class.” She then suddenly snapped to attention, and, as if remembering something, said, “I need to give you something.” I watched as she quickly ran out of the room for a second, then came back in and dropped several DVDs into my lap. “I want you to watch this while I’m gone,” she told me excitedly.
I picked up what she gave me and looked at it with confusion. “My little dumb, purple horsey?” I questioned.
“Stop that!” she said sternly. “That’s, like, blasphemy. I oughta smack you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, faking an apology. “I meant my little… not that smart purple horsey.”
“Just watch it. It’s the greatest show ever made.”
“That sounds hard to believe.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, it is,” she told. “Also, you can’t be high when you watch it.”
“Why are you making us both suffer?” I whined.
“It’s literally the greatest show ever invented,” she said ecstatically. “It’s about these ponies learning about the magic of friendship, and there’s this girl named Twilight Sparkle who moves to Ponyville, and-”
“Oh. Wow. Okay,” I interrupted her, sounding bored. “That changes everything. This definitely doesn’t sound like the worst show in the whole wide world.”
“Just watch it.”
“You know,” I said, putting on a fake grin “I really don’t want to, so I’ll go with no, thank you.”
“Please?” Mandy begged. “For me?”
“Still going to be a no from me.”
“Either you watch it, or I'll get my dad to drag you with me to rehab,” she threatened.
I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I said, annoyed. "I'll see what I can do."
"I shouldn't have watched your dumb show," my human mind thought as I lay in the hospital bed, thinking of the memory. "I might not be itchy right now if I didn't."
After I was cleaned, I was left in the room by myself for some time while the doctor and the two ponies who found me went off to somewhere. I waited for them to come back, glancing between the door and the cabinet, trying to ignore my worsening itchiness and the fact that the thing that might relieve it was in the room. I hated this itchiness, and I hated the fact that they left me here alone to suffer through it. I knew they didn’t know about my problems, but my human mind was upset at them regardless.
“I have self-control,” I told myself, staring directly at the cabinet. “I have self-control. I don’t need pain relief. I have self-control.”
“He said it’ll help with itching,” my human mind said. “It probably won’t do anything. Who gets high off of itch relief tablets?”
I ignored that thought. “This is all in my head,” I tried to tell myself. “It’s all psychological. My pony body is clean, so this itchiness is just a state of mind.”
Telling myself that didn’t make my itchiness go away. I could still feel what felt like ants on my skin and coat, making me scratch. “This itchiness isn’t real,” I told myself, clenching my jaw, my colt body wishing for somepony’s return so I could be comforted. “If I don’t believe I’m addicted, I won’t be addicted. It’s mind over matter.”
I tried for a second to mentally will my itchiness away, and was not surprised when it didn't work. I knew it wouldn’t work. That was almost the exact same logic I used to start using, and it didn’t work then either. It wasn’t just mind over matter. My human mind was addicted, even if my pony body wasn’t. It was still psychologically dependent and was going to feel the effects of constant drug abuse. I thought that it might be where my anxiety came from as well.
"They left you in here alone," my human mind said. "That must mean it's not that dangerous."
"Or they have lives outside of me and know that there's no way for me to access anything dangerous."
"This is going to last for days. Maybe weeks. You might as well just give in now."
"Stop being so weak," I snapped shutting my eyes tight. "It hasn't been more than a few hours that you've been itchy, yet you're acting like it's been months. Stop trying to give up over nothing."
"They probably won't get you high. I don’t think-"
"THEN STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!" I screamed out loud, resisting my pony body's urge to cry. I clenched my jaw tighter, hating how little self-control I seemed to have, hating the fact that this itching might go on for weeks. Or months.
"This is probably just a rash," I whispered to myself. "Or even an allergy. My itching didn't start until I was in this hospital. It makes sense."
"Are you okay?" I heard Doctor Night ask as he opened the door, sounding concerned after hearing my yelling.
"I'm fine," I said angrily, scratching at my face and turning away from him.
"Itchy?" he asked, as I continued to scratch at my face.
My human mind wanted to curse at him for his question, but I resisted that impulse. "Yes," I grumbled and felt him spread more cream on my face as he came up to examine the skin under my coat.
"Ask him," my human mind said.
"You know I won't do that," I answered.
“Has your itching gotten worse or stayed the same over the last few hours?”
“Worse.”
"He said-"
"Goddamnit, shut up! I already said no! I'm not going to change my mind!"
“I’m still not seeing anything in your coat or on your skin,” he told me, and I rolled my eyes. “You might just be imagining it, Leo.”
I lay down with a humph, facing away from him. “Thanks for telling me what I already know,” I thought. “I know you think I’m probably crazy.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked me sympathetically, putting a hoof on my shoulder.
“Itchy,” was my angry reply.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No!” I told him, getting worked up.
He sighed, sounding slightly upset, like he wanted to help me but didn’t know how. “Oh well,” I thought as I closed my eyes to go to sleep. “You probably wouldn’t be able to help me anyway.”
“If you have any pain,” he reminded me, “all you have to do is tell us. We can take care of it.”
“I’m not going to ask for pain medicine,” I thought as I scratched my face, staying silent.
He stood still for several moments, taking me in, likely feeling sorry for me. "Was there anything I could get you?" he asked.
"No!"
“Did you want me to get you any toys, or a coloring book?”
“NO!” I yelled, looking over my shoulder. “I DON’T WANT ANYTHING!” I turned back over, the tears I hated starting to form again. “How am I supposed to pick up the crayons anyway?” I asked bitterly, closing my eyes and scratching at my face. "And this itching!".
Doctor Night sighed again, more aggressively this time. He was definitely upset, and wanted to help me, but knew I would refuse what he thought would make me feel better. Still, he asked, “Leo, are you sure you don’t want anything?”.
I let my silence be my answer as I heard him open the cabinet and take something out.
“Leo,” he started, walking around so I could face him, “I know you don’t want this, but I need you to take it. It’s going to make that itching go away.”
“I don’t want that!” I told him angrily as he held a white tablet in front of me.
“Why?”
“Because!” I got out, and scratched at my face again.
“Do you think it’ll hurt you if you take it?”
“No,” I lied.
“Do you think I’ll hurt you if you take it?”
“No!”
“Did somepony give this to you before?”
“No!” I yelled. “I just… don’t want it!”
With a third sigh, he put the tablet back in its jar and set the jar on a counter along the wall. Then he kneeled down in front of my bed. “Leo,” he started, “if somepony’s hurting you, or is making you take medicine when you don’t need it, you can tell us. We’re not going to be angry, and we’re not going to make you go back to them.”
“Right now, the only one trying to hurt me is you,” I told him angrily.
He winced at that, and stood back up. “Leo, I promise we’re not here to hurt you.” He paused, and then asked, "Are you sure you didn't need anything before I left?”
“No," I grumbled.
“Did you want me to see if Thundertail and Herbal Essence would visit you?”
My pony body wanted to say yes to that, but my human mind responded first. “No,” I told him.
“Well, if you need anything, all you need to do is ask,” he sighed as he left the room.
“I’m not going to ask,” I thought as I closed my eyes.
After a while, I was dreaming that I was back in my parents' house. I was itch-free, and was watching my mother cook a meal in the kitchen as my father vacuumed the living room, both too preoccupied to notice me.
“Hey guys,” I announced, nonchalant.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our little boy!” my mother said, turning around. “Or should I say, our little colt!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, giving a small smile and rubbing one of my legs with my hoof.
“So how have you been doing these days, Leo?” my father asked me.
“Well, you know, I was living on the street, and then this genie granted my wish, so now I'm a pony in Equestria, and have been one for the last few days, so…” They stared at me unblinking at that, and I added, “But I’m getting clean, so you should be proud of me.”
“Well, three days hardly counts as “getting clean” does it?” my father chuckled.
“Well, it’s a start,” I responded, confused by his reaction. “I have to start somewhere.”
“Oh, honey,” my mother started, “that’s nice, but you don’t have to do that."
“Excuse me?” I asked confused.
“Well, we’ve already accepted that you’re not going to change,” she said. “You might as well just keep going down your broken road.”
“You don’t have to change for us,” my father told me.
“I’m not changing for you,” I told them. “I’m changing for me.”
My mother laughed at that. “Now, we all know that’s not happening.”
“And why not?” I asked, starting to get angry.
“Because I know how you are, Leo,” she told me. “If I recall correctly, your last words to us were somewhere along the lines of, ‘I know I’m ruining my life, but I just don’t care’.”
“And I can’t care now?”
“You can,” my father said, “but do you really? Cause from what we’ve seen, it’s not looking like you do. I mean, you’ve only been itchy a few hours, and you look ready to give up.”
“That’s not true,” I tried to tell them as I reflexively scratched at my face. "If I wanted to give up, I would have accepted that doctor's offer for pain relief."
“It is true, Leo,” my mother said, “but that’s okay. We’ll love you just the same when you give up.”
“No!” I told her angrily. “I’m not going to give up. Even if you don’t believe in me, I believe in me.”
My father shrugged. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I mean, you think that now, and have every intention to change now, but you’re not going to. I mean… you’re just not. I know you, Leo, and I know you won't change, so why even bother trying?”
I clenched my jaw. “You’re wrong. You don’t know me, and I’m going to prove it.”
My parents laughed at that. “No, son, you’re not,” my mother told me matter of factly.
I clenched my jaw harder. That wasn't true. That was not true. I was going to change. I knew I was. I knew my human mind might try and convince me not to, and I knew this itching would as well, but I was going to change. I was in the perfect place to change. If I couldn't change here, I couldn't change anywhere. I was going to change.
"You're not going to change, son," my mother told me. "We know you, and we know it's not going to happen. Just accept it."
“Leo,” I heard a mare whisper, interrupting my dream. I opened my eyes to see Herbal Essence stroking my mane, with Thundertail behind her. I had sweat on my forehead and was shivering slightly, and my jaw hurt from clenching it for most of the day. “It's going to be okay. It was just a dream, Leo.”
“I wish you were my parents,” I mumbled before closing my eyes and drifting back off to sleep.