Forgotten Words

by starcoder

Prologue

A trip to Sire's Hollow. That's basically what Sunburst and I are going on. I sit on the train and stare at the snow drifting around outside the train car's window. It's falling gently and slowly, just like my spirits. Except that my spirits are probably fading, so it's not like they'll be falling. They'll be fading and, soon enough, gone. But if they were falling, it would be much, much faster. I don't feel like going on this trip.

It's not that I don't want to see Sire's Hollow, or Dad or even Sunburst's mom! It's just that I haven't been feeling great lately. And I'm not sick with a cold or a fever or anything like that. I'm just mentally sick. I want to be alone all of the time now, and I keep having thoughts. Bad thoughts, sad thoughts, mad thoughts. Evil thoughts. They come naturally to me now, and I'm scared that I'll become the pony I used to be. It's like I'm the same pony, but I'm not. I don't want to be mean, harmful, or dangerous. And I've been keeping everything to myself for a while now. I couldn't even explain myself to Twilight when she asked me how I was feeling earlier today.

Twilight suggested that I go spend Hearth's Warming Eve in Sire's Hollow this year. Which I think is tomorrow. And she told Sunburst to go with me, "just in case I need it." I don't really care, though. I think she just wants me to reconnect with my past. Maybe she thinks that will help me. Whatever. Like I said, I don't really care. About anything. Except maybe my friends and family. I don't want to hurt them, but these thoughts... they won't leave me alone. I so wish they would.

I must be lost in my thoughts again. It keeps happening. Mostly it's me fighting with the negativity drawn all over my brain. Or it's me crying and watching it all happen. Or it's me reflecting on all of this and wishing it didn't exist. Or it's me looking for a way out of the deep, dark tunnel but failing. I've failed a lot lately; I'm used to it. But either way, it doesn't get any easier. I always still feel like crying, like punching those thoughts. Wait, I can't abuse the thoughts or else I'm being mean. Even if they're thoughts.

Wait. I was lost in my thoughts about my thoughts, wasn't I? Why does this keep happening to me? Again and again?

I feel a lot of shaking going on, so I shake my head to clear the thoughts. I keep doing this. All I'm doing is blocking out the outside world, and these thoughts keep-

No. I need to stop. Where's that shaking coming from, anyways? Are my eyes closed? Yes, they are. I open them and see a blinding light, so I squeeze my eyes shut again. My ear twitches. What's that sound? A voice, saying something. Something, something starting with an S. S... s... st... Starlight! Someone is calling me?

A voice. Someone's voice? Who would want my attention? Sunburst. Sunburst, trying to get my attention. Oh my gosh, I've been avoiding him this whole train ride! He probably thinks I'm a terrible friend. I open my eyes, though I'm practically squinting. He's motioning towards the door. His mouth is moving, but I can't hear. These stupid thoughts. Wait, stupid? What am I saying? I used to be nicer-

Focus on hearing. Ignore the thoughts. Ignore the thoughts about the thoughts. Resist the urge to fight back. I open my eyes, which I guess I closed again, and focus on hearing his voice. Something, something, it's becoming clearer...

"Get... oft... rain!" I think he's yelling. To me, though, it's nothing but a blurry whisper. He does something. He rolls his eyes? He grabs me with his magic and runs out of the train car with me trailing behind him. Should I be more surprised? I have no idea what's going on, so I'd have to say more confused than surprised, actually. He's talking to me. Probably yelling at me. He's giving me a lecture, or something of the sort. Like I said, I don't care.

I want to hear him, but I can't. It's either the snowfall that's now a blizzard, or the fact that my thoughts are clogging up all my senses. I shake my head, point to my ears, and walk towards Dad's house. I don't know if Sunburst is following me. He probably is. He cares about me. He's a good friend in that way. But still, I don't care.

I open the door to Dad's house and turn around. Lucky guess, I guess. Sunburst is following me. He walks inside and pushes the door shut. While I sit down on the couch, Dad walks into the living room. He says something. His face is twisted with confusion. Sunburst says something back to him. Dad looks at me and walks closer to me. He extends his arm. He... he... he hugs me. I have to hug him back.

He's worried about me, isn't he? Just like Sunburst is. Just like Twilight is. I have good friends. I have good family. But my evil thoughts are blocking me from being a good friend. From being a good daughter. From being myself. If I can't freaking fight these thoughts off-

What the hay is my wording doing? What is my stupid, crazy mind doing? Why am I doing it again? Again and again? Why? Just. Freaking. WHY?

I don't even realize I'm crying. My face is soaked. But I don't feel it. My hooves are drenched, too, probably from covering my eyes. I don't even remember covering my eyes. Because I don't feel it. It's like I said: I'm blocked from all my senses. I only find out about my tears when Sunburst takes my hooves off my eyes and covers my face with a paper towel.

I put my hooves on the paper towel, holding it in place. It's not long before it saturates as well. I feel my body go limp. It's hard to support myself, especially with emotions. But I guess physically, too. I fall down to the couch and feel dead. Ouch. Did I just fall onto the ground? Oops. Well, that's too bad. I don't care.

---

I open my eyes, groan in a way that I can't hear, and find myself staring at an electric guitar. With horns and shaped like a bucking skull. Wait, did I just curse? In my mind? Maybe I shouldn't blame myself. It's so scary, I nearly scream. Actually, maybe I do. I still can't hear much. My thoughts are in the way again, so I can't describe anything I hear. Or anything I say.

I take a look at my old room. It's all a bit blurry, but I already know how it looks. Like it was owned by a filly who was obsessed with skulls and punk music. Crystals and magic. That was me back then. But this is me now, hating all of this stuff. other than magic and books, of course. And I do still keep a few crystals on my windowsill back at Twilight's castle.

I start to clean up this nightmare of a room. There's creepy posters and skulls everywhere. There is also, for some weird reason, an authentic eyeball on the ground near my book of basic magic. Wow, this room would be a perfect Haunted House. Too bad I came here for Hearth's Warming instead of Nightmare Night.

I find an old dresser and cram all the terrible stuff inside of it. I even rip off the skull of the backboard of my bed. I don't want reminders of a meaner me, especially when I'm trying to fight those terrible thoughts about mean me. I look at the dresser, which is overflowing with junk. I should do something about it. So I do. I teleport them, far, far away from here.

I take down the ugly posters and start to rip them apart. But luckily, I can stop myself in time. Instead of ripping the... the akward posters, I crumple them up into a ball and throw them into the trash can. That seems less like torture.

I keep the crystals, but move them from the shelf to the dresser, where it seems neater. I pick up the books that are strewn all across the ground and place them on the shelf. My room looks cleaner already. I smile, which is rare for me these days. I hear a knock on the door, then it opens, and Sunburst peers through the crack in the door. I think he sees me smiling, because he smiles, too. He brings in a plate of food and leaves it on my dresser. He must've known I wanted to be alone. He's really considerate in that way.

I look at the breakfast, which I don't want to eat yet. Maybe later. I hop onto the bed, and lay down. I've lost track of time already, so I have no idea if I'm spending Hearth's Warming alone. Is today even Hearth's Warming? Whatever. I don't care, and today, it's in a good way.

My head touches something hard the instant I put my head down. "Ow!" I say. And I mean say. I can hear again, even though it sounds smudged and messy. It's either my voice or the fact that I can't hear straight. But even more surprisingly, I haven't talked for the past day. I wouldn't expect to make a sound, not even a tiny one like this, after a whole day or two of silence. But I do know this: My voice is back. My spirits are rising. My spirits are reappearing. But very slowly, so much slower than the light snowfall the other day. It was yesterday, I think. I'm not feeling too great.

I lift up the pillow and pull out a very, very, very dusty book. I shake the books a few times, releasing all the dust, making myself cough. When the dust clears, I open it to the first page. It's horn written. In a language I can barely understand. Wait, no, this is Ponish, alright. Just very, very bad hornwriting. About as bad as...

My hornwriting! I wrote this book, and hid it under my pillow before I ran away from home. I skim the first paragraph on the page. This is... a diary. My diary. What was I thinking back then? Do I want to know? Probably not. But still, I can't resist the urge to open the book up and find out what my cute little self was thinking. I go back to the beginning of the page and hope it has something I want to know. Here goes...