You gotta kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight.
"Everyone's got to face down the demons,/Maybe today, you could put the past away." -Third Eye Blind, 'Jumper'
High above the streets of Manehattan, a pony is contemplating to end his life by simply jumping of the ledge of a building. However, he stopped by a bizarre pink mare who insists he doesn't follow through.
This fan-fiction is dedicated to my friend Arthur. Thank you for everything you've done.
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As a madman once said "the way I see it life is a pile of good things and bad things…The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things, and make them unimportant." and " We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?"
-The Doctor
Great story
This is gorgeous and amazing and everypony should read this.
I liked it.
I rather like the idea behind this.
4611991 I rather like your tiny, floating whale.
You couldn't possibly have known at the time, but this story really reflects on my experience.
I'm sorry, this is another one of those huge, dry, stories.
Just imagine some wavy lines or something as I take you to....flashback land.
I had been going through sort of a bad phase, at that point I had been medicated with anti-psychotics, anti.anxiolitics, some sort of anti-depressives, and even some supressors.
The reason for that? I was mad, full on pissed off, I had been causing trouble at school, screaming, howlering, insulting everyone, whimpering on a corner. and sometimes just letargically sit down and look at a point on the wall in front of me. The police had gotten involved (I started out crying, ended up screaming, and every couple of minutes I either stopped screaming to start crying or stopped crying to start screaming) and, seeing as the counselor was unavaliable, the police had to be called to take note of the situation, and then I took a ride to the psyciatric hospital on the next town over.
Well, no, they never did figure out what was wrong with me, but they sure did try, scans, x-rays, and other medical exams that'll probably give me cancer in some years were made, I was put on a psyciatric and a psichologist.
Well, seeing as they couldn't get a formal diagnosis, they decided to cover every possible symptom I could have, I was unbalanced and so they gave me anxiety pills to stop the wimpering in fear, psychotic pills to stop the screaming, and anti depressives to stop the crying. It was a pretty powerful cocktail of chemicals, which had to be taken regularly, several times a day, and it made me feel like I was on an emotional roller coaster.
I could go from zero to a hundred in about 30 seconds, whatever strange thing those drugs were doing on my brain, they certanly didn't feel good, I was unable to feel any sort of pleasure or satisfaction on my work. In fact, I barely did any work. I was an excellent student, one that was easily on the top 10 of that grade at school, I had never studied, but I had never gotten a grade lower than an 86 percent (on a scale of 100).
I don't say this to brag, just to demonstrate, I felt so much variety of emotions inside of me, It made me feel sick, literally, my stomach would turn, I could hear my heart beat ringing in my ears, I couldn't stop blinking. But on the outside, I didn't show any emotion, I don't know why or how, but while that made me drown on myself (that is, I was barely able to raise my voice to be heard, and instead just walloweed on my feelings). I was constantly tired, it got to a point where I had to use rubber bands and snap them almost every minute just not to close my eyes and fall over on the ground, my grades started to go down, down, down, and If I had sixteens (on a scale up to twenty) on the first avaliation, It was pretty obvious to anyone I didn't have a chance to move on to the next year.
I took that hard....my parents had the best intentions for me, and I wanted to make them proud, I wanted to give them a reason to stop arguing with each other and agree on something, that, hey, at least for now, they had something to be proud of. I felt like I wanted to cry, and there was a lump in my throat, but no tears actually came.
I don't know when I made the decision....they say that most suicides happen on a whim and that if the person had waited some days it'll have passed...I agree with them, it's pretty much like that.
My thoughts were "I am mentally unstable, pretty much a dead weight, and a burden to everyone, I will probably end up on a mental ward for the rest of my life". Facing that, the decision was easy enough, right?
The thing I hated most about all the drugs I had been taking was that it left me too tired and too unable to focus so I could write, I hadn't written anything in months..
That day I sat down and wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. I had never written so much on my life, I wanted to make clear, so I was very careful with my words, that this wasn't anyone's fault, and that I hadn't hold any grunges, I wished the very best to everyone, and that,hopefully, everything would turn off fine.
Despite the catholic city where I live, with more than 3 churches, I had never really believed in any of that, I wondered, at that moment, If I'd get the eternal nothingness, just black, or if I'd end up being tortured for all eternity. Either way I didn't care all too much.
I knew of the various methods, as macabre as that sounds, I had immediately dismissed throwing myself in front of traffic, because that would probably put my suicide as a murder in someone's hands. I didn't know how to tie a straight knot, so I couldn't possibly hang myself, I was pretty sure I'd panic and return to the surfface if I tried drowning, and I didn't want to throw myself from a high place, both because It'd be a lot of work to clean up, and because the only place I had acess too that was high enough was an apartment building, and if I threw myself, who knew if the kids that lived across the street, would see it?
I won't tell what method I choose, mostly because I don't want to encourage anyone, it's surprisingly easy to find a way to do it, but please, if anyone's considering it, don't.
As I slowly felt myself get more and more tired, I panicked, I didn't sense a peace, or saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Those final moments where your body feels there's nothing it can do, are awful.
I managed to get help.
And I felt guilt and guilt. Everyone was just so...shocked, that's the word. I assured them It wasn't their fault, and I started to blame myself.
If one thing, the period I spend recovering (I was absent from school, they had to take me off the drugs to avoid any unwanted reactions with the meds they were giving me to heal...), was great, It really cleared my mind.
I changed the medical professionals attending to my mental health, as a "at risk" teen, I was overseen by some of the brightest and most professional child counselors and professionals there were.
They took one look at my medication, looked at one another and immediately changed it all. I was being given extreme medication, meant for adults who suffer from schizophrenia and bipolarity, not only were they messing with my still hormonal body (they weren't even meant to people under the age of 18),but the side effects (which were pretty much what I had been feeling throughout all this time) were only increased in tone by the mixture .
The problem was, the hospital where I had gone had no child psychiatrist, so the pshyciatrist just prescribed me what normally worked, ignoring my age.
I still didn't try to use the cocktail as a way to dodge the blame for my reckless act, but it felt great knowing that I hadn't been simply over reacting.
Anyway, I still take some drugs, that can't be avoided, since they create kind of an addiction, and if I stop taking them suddently, I could develop several problems. But I feel great with myself.
All that to say....suicide is bad m'kay, so if you do it, you're gonna die m'kay?
As for the story...I can certanly relate to feeling hopeless, and I certanly wish, I had, at the time, friends like Pinkie Pie, unfortunately, people like her are hard to find, and no one is as capable of keep on trying to make people laugh and cheer up like her.
I think you really captured her character well.
Sorry, for the long story, I was just....sorry.
And I've got to go clean my tears out, this brought back memories...
4812765 That's quite a story and I'm sorry to hear about all of what happened. I am happy to hear about the turn around and the progress that has been made for ya.
Truth be told, this is a slightly fictionalized version of an attempt that I almost went through, but I was lucky that I had one amazing friend who helped me through. I can never repay them for what they did to help me and it still gets to me of how much they did. Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear about that story. The main point here is that, and I quote Third Eye Blind, "everyone has got to face down their demons", regardless of what they are.
4814266 Thank you, ya know, I still have a digital copy of that file, and I still look at it once in a while, and read it. It always makes me want to cry, and it isn't common for me to start getting tears, but to remember the bad moments, the lowest of the low, is always important, so you can compare yourself in a few years and be all like "God what a hormonal douchebag, acting all like an emo, I was", although in my case it's more of "God, that period of my life felt just so....wrong and awful, and I feel much greater now!"
If you do want to talk about it (obviously you didn't suceed unless you're a literal ghost writer), I'm here for you, you can pm, or reply here, it's up to your choice, I love to hear other people's sucess stories! The part about how crappy they felt, and why they wanted to end it all is always a bad reading, but the part where family and friends step in, and help them get back to their feet, that makes me get my faith back in humanity!
And I'm really glad a friend of yours stepped in and helped you.
As for facing demons, well, my demons were all the stuff I had been given and my confunsing emotions. If one think I guess I should be thankful for it, you see, when you "numb" yourself every day, when you get clear again, and can finally feel joy and be with a group of friends and laugh for real, and talk, instead of just following them around, shuffling around them like you carry the weight of the world on top of you....
Not only do you get to value your mental sanity a lot more, you also develop a certain fascination with those emotions.
Nowadays I write in third person, and talk about several people's feelings at the same time
It's handier, for applying emotional analisys, but, for a time there, all of my stories where about someone suffering a lose, or an event, and re telling their feelings in the first person, on a letter or something.
Well, if you want to talk, I'm here for you! :)
4815869 Same goes to you, if ya feel a need to talk to somepony, I'm here for ya.
(Also, if you want a little sample of 'success' story of me getting out of issues, my fic "Concerto A Rainy Day" reflects on that.)