Step Four: Become a Poet
Let the things you’ve struggled with follow you to Junior high. At this point, make sure that you’ve isolated yourself from everypony you knew in elementary school. Take to your room and start listening to Eriskay Princely records on a record player you bought at a thrift store for twenty-five cents. It will be a small blue portable one with tons of stickers all over it. You will buy it with the money you’ve saved from doing chores around the house. Start lamenting over the fact that no one seems to understand you but the Prince. Listen to your records so often that your older sister Jamocha Prism will request to move to her own room, giving you the peace and solitude you’ve sought after since an early age.
Make sure to commit every second not wasted (pretending) to study on writing morbid poetry. Some of your poems can be about the clouds shedding their silver lining to reveal lightning tucked within. Others can be about the way you hate the popular mares and stallions, dressed all prim and perfect. Some can be about Twinkleshine, Lemon Hearts, Minuette, Lyra Heartstrings and Twilight Sparkle who’ve been in every class with you since preschool and won’t seem to leave you alone even though you go out of your way to avoid them. Some can be about how much you’d like to lift that mare’s thong up in science class and rip it right out of her pants, for the whole class to ogle at. She wants everyone to look at it anyway.
Post these poems on your internet blog for all of Equestria to see. Or if not all of Equestria, at the very least the online community of like-minded angst-ridden teens that congregate on those kinds of websites. This is crucial; you must have this community to share your inmost feeling with. On the main forum of the group decide to write one day, “Yes, yes; my hamster died when I was in the fourth grade. It was like my grandfather dying all over again.” To which some mare from a Rock Farm somewhere in Rockville will reply, “That’s really deep, my dude. On the rock farm, my mother appeared to me in a piece of toast and I ate her by mistake. I was never the same after that.”
In time you will both get to know each other well. You both will frequently LOL over the MareSpace chat box. Secretly you will both know what the other party is talking about. Her toast is just like your hamster. Stories you tell the world to make them think you are ok. Or maybe they are tales you spin to show ponies that you might be depressed, but at least you can have a good sense of humor about it. Or else they are stories you tell to intentionally drive away ponies that try to delve too deep into who you really are.
At the end of your seventh grade year, you will need to start keeping a personal diary for all of the suitable ways to kill yourself. You can add little notes like “burn myself alive” and “drown myself in a river of water” or the classic “put a dagger in my heart.” Then underneath each of these suicidal methods, you can list the survivability rate of each one.
Select the methods that will, without a shadow of a doubt in your mind, lead you to a quick and untimely death. Leave the rest of the suicidal methods for your internet poetry. You’d be surprised at how many poems can be written on the subject of death from the perspective of the unwilling living.