A Very Happy and Sunny Life

by Wearin Hat

52

So, here we are, my Mom's grave. I'm ashamed to admit it's been awhile since I've been back. It's just hard, y'know? Knowing she's down there right now and not up here. The whole thought is just…I don’t know, kind of humbling or something.

And as you can obviously tell I didn’t even try to go to my Dad’s funeral.

It isn’t like I wouldn’t have gone but…well…actually, it is kinda like that I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t have just gone up there and destroyed his corpse or anything, but it isn’t like I’d be paying any sort of respects or anything like that.

Booky, I can’t really think straight right now. What do you think I should do? I mean, I need to be able to think. Thinking is pretty much all I do anymore. If I can’t think then…I don’t even know what to think. I guess I’ll just sit at home and be quiet until something happens.

What’s that? First thing off the top of my head? Well, if you think it’ll help…

I’m an orphan. A true orphan. I know I’ve said it before and in a sense I was right when I said it. Only now…well, only now is it actually true. Both of my parents are dead. Gone. One buried right here in front of us and the other hopefully rotting under the royal bitches’ hooves.

I thought I’d be happy to learn that he died. Dad dying has pretty much been one of the few things I’ve ever looked forward to learning. I’ve always pictured my laughing face peering down at his final resting place, sweat dripping from having danced energetically on his grave. Instead, I’m not laughing and this isn’t sweat falling from my face.

I’ve hated him my whole life, Booky. I make no secret about that. Should anypony (And I mean anypony.) have ever asked about how I feel in regards to him then I would’ve told them exactly how little he means to me. He did nothing for me, ever. He wasn’t there when I needed him and he was there when I needed him not to be.

Anypony would have (As well as should have.) hated him.

Even when Mom was alive he wasn’t there for me. He’d never be there when I was awake. I honestly have trouble remembering him from that time. Sometimes I’d see him in the morning on his way out of the house for work, but otherwise he was rarely there in the beginning. I mean, sure, he was there at times, but he was always content on letting Mom do the work.

He disappeared after Mom died. I’d see him in the morning when he’d wake me up for school, but that hardly meant anything. Those mornings were quiet and awkward. He’d hardly say anything and before long I’d be on my way to class. Even that stopped happening once he pulled me out of school. I was left to wake myself up and make my own breakfast.

Like I said, Booky, he just wasn’t there.

Always so busy with his precious jobs, makes me sick to think about. I wanted him to be there. You have no idea how lonely it is to sit at that table with your shoddily made breakfast and to not see anypony else in the room. And even when he wasn’t working he’d be sleeping or something like that. Always busy.

Mom’s friends tried to pick up her slack at first, but I guess they just lost interest after awhile. I don’t blame them. I didn’t want them there. I wanted my parents. Not pretenders.

I mean, I know that he had to work two jobs to pay for me and stuff, but come on, that doesn’t mean he can’t play catch with me like he used to. That doesn’t mean he…I mean, was it too hard to poke his head in at night to tell me he loved me, to tell me how proud he was?

Words cannot express how much I hate that stallion. He wasn’t there, Booky, and I don’t know how to make that any clearer. Even when he started getting sick all the time, he wasn’t there and he was always telling me to go play or something like that.

Then he ran off (To Canterlot, I guess.) with the pony who had happened to be my best friend, leaving me truly alone.

So, after that, all of that, why am I not singing and making fucking jokes right now? Why am I not celebrating? I hate him. I hate him, Booky; I hate him so much I’m almost fucking blue in the face.

Why did Mom love him? I don’t get it. How could she have in any way endured his presence? I know she was perfect, but come on! He’s literally the worst thing ever! I HATE HIM! How could she love him?

And you know what? I never got to say goodbye to him. I never said goodbye. I didn’t say a word as he walked out that door and I haven’t said a word since. Last thing I ever told him was that I don’t care. I don’t even remember what it was I said it about.

Why am I crying over him? I mean, come on! I’m Ipsa Unica, damn it! I should be throwing a fucking party right now!

Imagine him on his deathbed, crying his eyes out cause he knows I’m not there. Seems kind of fitting, doesn’t it? I like to think his last words were, “Where is he?” I want his last thought to have been about me. I hope it was.

He didn’t deserve me. He didn’t deserve Mom. He didn’t even deserve that whore he ran off with. He didn’t deserve a single thing he ever got.

So why do I fucking care? I shouldn’t. I don’t want to. I hate him. I hate him more than I hate the fucking Derptard. So why am I crying? Why do I care? Why do I miss him?

I’m sorry, Booky. I just can’t keep writing in all this rain.

Comments

[Johnny Walker]

Good to see a new chapter.

And Ipsa... T.T

[Jack Kellar]

Seems like Ipsa's dad assumed the role of supplier and couldn't face his son because of his own grief, which is bad, but I can see where he comes from. Ipsa too, if his accounts of the old man not even saying an "I love you" are true to any extent.

In the end, I still think it was good that he didn't go to the funeral. It's a bit too soon, issues are unresolved and the stallion too unlikable. Plus, it doesn't mean he can't visit his grave later.

[Seether00]

Sounds like old Dad tried his best after all. Ipsa still upset though.

Balancing gathering resources and spending time with the kids is very difficult if not impossible.