[Sad] - [Original Character]
What had gone wrong? Pony tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, and only succeeded in smearing them further across her cheeks.
For weeks now, Pony’s mother had picked up a new interest (read: craze, fad, etc.). But this new interest was different. Instead of the latest chemical-free cleaning products or everlasting and overpriced plastic containers, this new craze was oils.
Pony had watched in muted trepidation as the interest slowly spread through her closed off community. Why did she even care? It wasn’t like she even talked to most of the others. She just minded her own business and minimized contact. She couldn’t even recall the names of most of the ponies who talked to her.
But this new oils craze was different. There were stories of oils curing cancer, books claimed that oils could alleviate the symptoms of many diseases. Some ponies even believed that the oils could alter emotion. But to Pony, this was mere pseudoscience. Perhaps there were trace benefits of oils, but it couldn’t be that groundbreaking. After all, if oils were really that powerful, surely doctors would be writing prescriptions for them. Right?
Right?
At first, Pony had warily noted the presence of oils, relocating if their smells were too unbearable and keeping her distance. Politely turning down offers for personal use. She had joked nervously, masking her distaste for the oils.
But it was one such ‘coping’ joke that burst her carefully orchestrated act. Pony hadn’t heard the question, but she had figured out the basic idea of it after hearing snippets of conversation around her music. To the outsider, the humorous quip could easily be mistaken for mockery. But on the inside, this was her way of defending herself from something she saw as a possible threat, normalizing a scary situation and socially connecting with her family.
“Are you showing Dad that there’s more to essential oils that putting them in a lawnmower?”
This joke was carefully constructed on her family’s previous comments relating the essential oils to engine oil. Pony was prepared for a number of responses. Mumbles of ‘whatever’, halfhearted laughs or even perhaps silence.
“He was asking a genuine question, and I’m showing him some answers.”
It was a cutting response. Perhaps even a hurt response. The wrong response to what was perhaps, in retrospect, a poorly timed but not ill-intentioned joke.
And it hurt.
Tears flowed, and Pony’s carefully constructed emotional balance was gone.