• Published 24th Jan 2020
  • 10,330 Views, 498 Comments

Mind Over Matter - Boopy Doopy



I got one wish. So what did my drugged mind come up with? To be a pony in Equestria.

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Resisting Resistance

This day had felt endless so far, so I was surprised when Doctor Spark asked if I wanted lunch.

“I know it’s a little early,” she said softly, “but let’s get some more food in you. I’m just going to be gone for a little bit, okay?”

I listened as she went out, leaving me alone to think. At that moment, even after all I went through in such a short span of time, I felt the clearest headed I’d been since the first few hours I’d been in Equestria. I used this chance to truly examine my situation.

The first thing I thought about was myself. Or, at least, myself in this colt body. There was clearly something wrong with me, but I didn’t know what. I was getting angry and upset for no reason, and actively resisting offers for help. I didn’t know if this was a psychological effect from my withdrawal, or if it was a symptom of some larger issue. Either way, I had to get better. I had to care. As hard as it seemed to be, I knew I had to care.

The second thing was this colt body. I couldn't tell if it and I were separate entities or if we were one and the same, but I was leaning towards the latter while hoping for the former. The idea that I actually was this colt and not just inhabiting its body was scary, to say the least. I had my own issues to work through, and was afraid of the idea that whatever it potentially went through before I entered the picture actually happened to me.

The third was that genie. I wanted to know why he gave me these circumstances. My initial reaction was that he hated me and wanted to see me suffer, and I still very much believed that. However, I was going to be positive and pretend that he was just incredibly dumb and thought I could help this poor colt. Regardless, if I ever saw him again, which, at that point, felt pretty unlikely, he would have some serious explaining to do to me.

The fourth was my plan moving forward. I needed an actual goal to achieve. That would be tough to come up with. There wasn't really anything I wanted to do with my future. I knew I wanted to change, but I didn't know what I wanted to do after that, or what I wanted to change into. I did want to go to Ponyville and meet characters I could actually recognize, but beyond that, I had no idea what to shoot for. I knew I needed something to care about. That was part of what went wrong before for me. I didn't really have anything to care about. Or, more precisely, I had things to care about, but nothing I did care about. I knew I would need to find something.

Of course, finding something or somepony to care about would likely be contingent on me actually receiving help. Which was not going to be easy, seeing as I didn't want it. It felt ridiculous to me. I didn’t think I would need to be told to not use drugs. I didn’t think I'd need to be told that I should care about what happens to me. But, apparently, I did, because I was just that stupid.

I watched as Doctor Spark came back with another tray of fruits and vegetables, this one having a small pile of hay on it as well. “I know you don’t like it,” she told me kindly, “but I need you to eat some hay. We want to keep you healthy and strong.”

"I'm not hungry," I whispered, still feeling upset.

"Can you eat just a little bit, Leo?”

I shook my head, saying, “No,” quietly.

She set the tray on the counter for later and got down to eye level once again. “Is it okay if we talk about you again?”

I hated this. I really, really didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to tell her about my problems or about how I was feeling. Some irrational part of me thought it might just be better to throw my life away again than talk to her about myself.

I sighed. “I already told you about me,” I told her quietly, with a tone in my voice.

She sighed as well, sensing my frustration, deciding how best to approach me. “Leo,” she started, opening her mouth to say something else, then stopping and sighing again. “I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts, but I want to help you. I can’t do that though unless I know what’s going on. I’m not going to be mad at you, even if what you say seemsj bad. I just want to help you.”

“What more am I supposed to say?” I asked her, annoyed.

“How about how you’re feeling?”

“I feel like I don’t want to do this!” I said, frustrated.

“Why not?” she asked, hoping to get something out of me.

“Because!” I said with a huff, scratching my face.

She looked at me, seemingly upset with my answer. She looked like she was about to move on to something else for us to do.

“Stop resisting her,” I thought, closing my eyes. “She's just trying to get you better. At least give her something to work with.”

“I feel like I’d rather just not care about myself than go through this,” I told her, speaking quieter.

“You don’t care about yourself?”

“Not really…”

“Why not?”

I sighed again, my frustration waning. “I don’t know,” I told her, my voice quiet again.

Doctor Spark was silent for a few seconds at my answer, then asked in a whisper, “Is that why you take medicine you don’t need?”

I shut my eyes and sniffed. “Yes,” I whispered back to her.

I hated these child-like emotions. I felt like they were distorting my thinking and making things more difficult for me. My old human body would have answered these questions straightforwardly, not getting upset over them. I guess it was a sign that I care a little, but not enough for me to want to accept help. Or do much of anything for that matter.

My old body was the perfect existence. I could do whatever I wanted without fear of consequences because I just didn’t care about anything. In some ways, it would be easier to get help in that body because I wouldn’t care so much about talking about the life I lived or how I felt. It would be the same if I cared more about myself. It seemed as though me caring just a little bit was the worst position I could be in.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way,” Doctor Spark whispered to me. She paused again, then continued, “Do you feel like you don’t want to be alive, Leo?”

“Okay, this again,” I thought as I answered, “No.”

“Do you feel like hurting yourself again, Leo?”

“No!” I told her, my frustration returning. “I just… don’t care about myself, and I don’t know why!

My voice trembled by the end of the sentence, my tears starting to return. I decided it was a waste of energy to get worked up over them. I’d be dealing with them probably every day for the next several years at least, so I knew I might as well get used to it. Instead, I looked to Doctor Spark, waiting for her to tell me what to do to care. I was trying to stop resisting, and she was supposed to help me. However, instead, all I got was her mouth opening and closing several times, unable to find something to tell me. I turned my head away from her, and I heard her simply say, “I’m sorry, Leo.”

I hated almost not caring. Caring a little meant that her words hurt me. It hurt knowing that I didn’t care and there was nothing I could do about it but screw everything up again. "I hate myself and my life," I thought.

“Is there anypony you care about?” she suddenly asked me. I looked back to her and shook my head, sniffing. “What about Herbal Essence and Thundertail?” she asked me.

“I guess,” I whispered. “But I don’t really know them.”

“What about your parents?” she asked.

I didn't like that question. I knew that was an attempt to get me to talk about them, especially since she didn't have an answer for me not caring about myself. Not that it would do anything. It was impossible for me to talk about them since I knew next to nothing about them. At least, that's what I thought, which is why I was surprised when, before I could react, I found myself saying, “Just my dad sometimes.”

I had no idea where that came from, but I said it so naturally that I was afraid. I was afraid that I actually was this colt, and I wasn’t just in its body. I was already leaning towards that being the case, and this did nothing but make it more likely to be the truth. I didn't want to be this colt. I wanted to be me in this colt's body. I also hated the implications of what I said. It was implying that my dad was only sometimes good to me, and my mom was never good to me. I was implying that my mom abused me.

Doctor Spark obviously picked up on this as well, and asked, “Just your dad sometimes? Why not your mom?”

I stayed silent at that. I didn’t want to learn about what this colt might have gone through. I wanted to be ignorant and pretend that it didn’t like its mother because of something dumb, like making me eat hay.

She waited a few seconds, seeing if I would answer, then moved on. “Is there anypony you want to meet, or someplace you want to go?”

“I want to go to Ponyville,” I told her, surprised, and slightly embarrassed, by the question. “Or to Canterlot to see Twilight Sparkle,” I added.

“And Rainbow Dash and Rarity?” she asked me.

I smiled a tiny smile, my first one in days. “And Pinkie Pie and Applejack and Fluttershy,” I said, getting excited.

“Well, that’s a reason to care,” she told me, putting a smile on her own face. “Care so you can grow up and meet them.”

The thought of meeting them made me happy for a few seconds. Then another thought hit me, and I frowned again. “What happens after that?” I asked her. “What do I care about then?”

“Well,” she said, keeping the smile on her face, “by the time you’re able to meet them, you’ll have other ponies in your life to care about.”