• Published 4th Jan 2021
  • 1,086 Views, 11 Comments

Unwelcome Thoughts - AstralMouse



I know my family and friends would miss me if I was gone. To think otherwise is just silly. So... why are these stupid intrusive thoughts so convincing?

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The fight

Nothing.

"Pinkie, you know we'd never say that."

Comfortable nothing.

"We love your parties."

Numbness.

"Imagine how much Pumpkin and Pound Cake would miss you."

No. Not all numbness. Pain, now.

"I've heard Gallus and Smolder talking to their friends between classes. You're one of their favorite professors."

Stupid pain. Go away. I wanna be numb.

"I still remember the first time I came to Ponyville. You were the first pony I met. Do you remember that?"

Who's talking? Twilight? Just... get away from me. You'll be better off.

"I do. Out of anypony in the whole town, it was you. How could I ever forget that?"

Stop. You're just hurting both of us.

"I don't want to forget that. You do believe me, don't you?"

Of course I do. But that doesn't mean I don't hurt you.

"After everything we've been through together, you have to know that we love you."

Of course you do. I know that. But...

But what?

There is no but. I know you all love me. But if I know that, then why am I so sure you'd be better off without me?

Why? Why do I believe something when I know it's not true?


I'm hanging from the noose again. Somehow, I simply stand myself up on my hind legs, and I can pull it right off.

I hold it in my hoof, looking at it again. This time, there's no giddy excitement or relief. The weight's all back on my shoulders, and this thing can't take it off anymore. I don't wanna be here.

I drop it, letting it swing in place, and leave the room.

Downstairs, I see Mrs. Cake bent over next to a table, brush underhoof, scrubbing furiously at a spot on the floor.

She growls. "I have just about had it with Pinkie Pie and her messes," she says. "I swear, if she didn't live here, we could just get so much more done."

I want to cry. I want to tell her that I tried. I tried, okay? Tried and failed. I tied up a noose and put it around my neck and I got rid of myself, but then I came back for some reason. And now I don't know if I can do it again.

The feelings in my chest want to push themselves up and out through my face. Let me sob and retch and get icky, gross snot everywhere.

There are some tears that I can't hold back, but I swallow the rest down, and I fight to control my unsteady breathing.

Eyes wet, I look at her. She speaks again, not looking up. "Because that's all you ever do, isn't it, Pinkie? Make messes for us to clean up."

A thought bubbles up in my mind. A truth. Something that I didn't want to believe when I was upstairs, but I can't deny it.

I take a long, deep breath and prepare myself.

"Mrs. Cake?" I say. She doesn't react, simply scrubbing and cursing me under her breath. A sad smile forms on my lips. "I know you don't really think that about me. You've never said anything like that."

Her scrubbing slows. Her anger fades. She looks neutral, eyes dead. The hoof with the brush moves in mechanical circles.

"And," I say, confidence faltering, "I know... no. I... think that you love me."

"Yeah," she says simply.

"I think that I mean something to you," I say.

Her motions regain life, and her lips turn up into a small smile. "Well, of course, dear," she says, still focused on the stain. "We're all one big happy family here."

My heart flutters at that as it catches a memory and hauls it to the forefront of my mind.

We're all one big happy family here.

I remember when she said that. It was last year, during a party. Somepony had asked if I really lived there with them, and she had smiled and said "Of course she does! We're all one big happy family here!"

And in her eyes, I can see the same sincerity that was present then, too. Then, and every other time she's said similar things.

When has she said those bad things before? She was mad at me when I broke her really expensive new oven. She was frustrated when I chewed a giant wad of bubblegum and blew a bubble and got it all over the shop right before opening time. She was disappointed in me when I made pies for friends instead of filling her carrot cake order.

The air around her thickens. Where before she was scrubbing in smooth circles, now there's a little tic each time she pulls the brush back. Her jaw is slightly tensed. Her smile looks forced. She wants to say something. Something bad.

I swallow down the panic that wants to return.

She forgave me for all of those things, though. I remember that, too, even if the anger is the part that's fresher in my mind. She forgave me, and she meant it.

Mrs. Cake relaxes. Scrub, scrub, scrub. She looks content again.

She really does love me.

Her hoof comes up, brush attached by its woven fabric strap, and she laughs. "Oh, dear me," she says between giggles.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well, I just realized there was never a stain here to begin with!" She laughs again, shaking her head. "Silly me. Silly, silly me."

No, she must be wrong. There was definitely a stain there. I remember seeing it. But when I look, it's nothing but a pristine hardwood floor. The soap and water are gone.

Mrs. Cake is gone.

I'm standing alone in the silent shop. The emptiness makes me want to go outside, so I go to the main entrance, stopping to glance back.

Maybe...

Maybe there was no stain.


Outside, the fresh air and warm sunlight are disappointing. Cranky Doodle Donkey is fussing with a cart full of junk that I know isn't really junk to him, but wouldn't look out of place in a trash heap.

"Hi, Cranky," I say.

"What do you want, kid?" he asks grumpily.

"Nothing. Just hi." I have to stop myself from saying more, because he obviously wants to be left alone. My friendship with him is still rocky at best, even after what I did for him. And that's okay. As long as he is my friend.

"Didn't you kill yourself?" he asks, still fiddling with his cart.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I'm back, though."

"That's too bad. I liked you better that way."

His words cut deep. "I'm sorry," I say, forcing my voice to remain level.

"Yeah, well, if you really were sorry, you'd do it again and stay gone."

Like with Mrs. Cake, I quickly search my memory.

"You've never really said that, though," I say.

"Never had to. I told you to leave me alone, didn't I? What did you think I meant by that?" Now, he's looking at me. Challenging me. Fresh tears force their way from my eyes, stinging uncomfortably. "So, leave me alone, kid." He returns to the cart, grumbling.

My jaw is wired shut by panic. Short breaths come through my nose. My cheeks are wet and matted. I stare at him, hoping for something to change. He acts as if I don't exist. Probably wishes I didn't.

The noose is still there. I can go back to it. I can still go back. It's not too late to fix this.

Leave me alone!

He did say it. He said those exact words. And he meant it. I know he did. The only way I can really, really, really leave him alone is to go back and kill myself. Do it right. Otherwise, I'll just talk to him again. Eventually. And he obviously doesn't want that.

I can't be trusted.

"Pinkie," a voice says. A hoof rests on my withers, painfully reassuring. "You know he didn't mean it like that."

It sounds like...

"Matilda?" I say. When I look up, she's there next to me, smiling. It's almost disorienting how warm and comforting her smile is. "I'm so sorry. He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, Pinkie. In fact, he likes you more than most ponies he meets. I'd even say he loves you."

"But he wants me to leave him alone."

"Sometimes, sure. But sometimes he likes seeing you," she says. She's right, I know. "He really, genuinely is your friend."

I know. I know he's my friend. I know, I know, I know! "I know!" I say. "I know he's my friend! Matilda..." Words catch in my throat, stopped by fear of admitting something stupid and making a fool out of myself.

She says nothing, but she hugs me. I can feel her smiling.

"So if I know he's my friend," I continue, "why does it feel like he's not? Why am I so sure that he wants me to..." I bury my face against Matilda, feeling guilty for getting her wet with my stupid, useless tears.

"Kill yourself," Cranky says.

There's a fresh stab to my heart.

"That's not him, Pinkie," Matilda says in my ear. But, it's not just her voice. It feels like the voices of all of my friends, family, and acquaintances. Every rational outside perspective seems to agree, despite the clear reality of what's before me.

I look at him more closely, grunting with frustration as he moves objects around. He's just like I remember him.

Or, is he only like I remember him?

Closer inspection reveals some details are muddy or missing. How many nose hairs are sticking out from his nostrils? Five? Six? I can't count them, because they seem to shift with my thoughts. What is the stuff in his cart he's fussing over? Baubles and trinkets? No, those are just words I like. The actual physical things have no discernible form for more than a split second at a time.

The longer I stare, the more he looks like some minimalistic blur that just represents him.

"Kill yourself," he says again. He means it, but he only means it because I believe he means it. And he's only Cranky because I'm convinced he is. He's just a fake.

Where's the real Cranky?

"You're not Cranky," I say, pressing my hoof into the dirt.

"'Course I am. Now, leave me alone and go kill yourself."

Why is he so convincing? By every real measure, he's a fake. I know he is. Why won't he go away?

"No, you're not," I say. "The real Cranky Doodle Donkey isn't here. And if he doesn't tell me to kill myself, then you can't either!"

Still an odd blur of impressions, he replies. "Leave me alone, kid."

"Okay, and even if I leave you alone, we're still friends," I say. It's not a question. It's the truth.

"'Course we are."

And that's that. He's simply gone.


I wander through Ponyville's empty streets. Despite the lack of ponies around, it doesn't feel lonely.

A shadow moves across the ground, and with a jarring whump, a familiar and terrifying sight lands in front of me.

"Hey, dweeb," Gilda says.

Deep in my heart, I'm happy to see her again, if only for some foolish idea that we're actually friends. "Gilda!" I say.

"Outta may way. I got places to be," she says.

I look around. The street is plenty wide for her to pass by me. I step aside anyway. "It's good to see you," I tell her, hoping beyond hope that she feels the same.

Her eyes narrow. "Good to see me? After what you did to me? After you pretended to be my friend, then left me alone to get teased by other griffons for trying to be nice?"

"But I thought th—"

"No! You ruined my life!"

I frown deeply. "Then we're not still friends?"

"We never were."

The words hurt. Weren't we friends last time I saw her? What if she lied just to make me leave? What if I really did hurt her?

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" I ask.

She glares at me. "No. Nothing you ever do will be good enough," she says.

My heart feels crushed, like a boulder's just rolled over it. "Not even if I threw a million super-duper fun parties for you?" I ask.

Her face scrunches into a snarl. "I wouldn't be friends with you, ever! You're a waste of space."

I want to be back at the rope, where I can disappear.

"Would it make you happy if I killed myself?" I ask, unable to keep the stupid words from pouring out of my heart.

She smirks and nods. "Hey, yeah. Do it. It's all you're good for."

I find that I believe her. It really is what she wants. And that makes me want it too. I obviously really hurt her, and the best way to make it up to her is to do the only nice thing for her that I can.

"Okay," I say, keeping my voice level. I can't get all cry-ey now and make her think I'm just looking for sympathy. "I will. You can come watch, if you want."

In the time it takes me to blink, she is already holding popcorn and a folding chair. And the best thing is, she's smiling.

My heart flutters a bit in joy. Finally, a real positive difference I can make. My life is so worthless that it feels like a miracle that I can use it to actually do some good. I turn and begin heading back, only to bump into something large and purple.

"Pinkie," it says. Well, it turns out it's Twilight that I bumped into. She's smiling sadly and shaking her head. "She's not worth it."

I tilt my head, confused. "What do you mean? My life has no value to me, but if I go hang myself, it can have value to her. That should be like some kinda basic math for you, Twilight," I say, gesturing at Gilda. She's already got a beakful of popcorn, and she's nodding.

"Your life has value to me. To us," Twilight says. She smiles reassuringly.

Behind her, Applejack and Rarity fade in from seemingly nowhere, both with the same kind of smile. Then, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy. Then, my family. Marble, Limestone, Maud, Boulder, Mom, and Dad. More appear, too, spreading like a slow ripple. Mr. and Mrs. Cake, their lovely twins, Cranky and Matilda, all of my students, and just about everypony in Ponyville.

And they all have the same smile as Twilight.

My heart wrenches as I consider them all. They're already smiling. Because of me. I look back at Gilda.

"Well?" she asks. "Gonna kill yourself or not?"

I turn back to the impressive crowd of family and friends, tears in my eyes. If I do what Gilda wants, then all those smiles will go away.

"How..." I say, choking up. "How could I have forgotten about all of you?"

Gilda walks in front of me, trying to keep my friends from my view, but it's too late for her. There are too many of them now for me to forget. I push her to one side, and she squawks and shrieks, but her voice is distant and unimportant now.

"I forgot about all of you when I really just needed to forget about her," I say.

Twilight has tears in her eyes, and a bigger smile than before. "I'm so proud of you, Pinkie."

I close my own eyes and rush forward, gripping her in a hug.

And the world around me melts away.