> The stupid diary of Depression
>  by griffin_killer1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> It never truly goes away, does it?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	This is the verbal diary of -removed-, about 160 days since entry of hospital. My goal is to make a formal report of my life so the big, head-honcho doctors out there can fix my long-term depression.
It was loud. Very loud. Ponies ran all about, trying to run away from...something. I couldn't tell. All I could focus on was her.
She lay before me, not breathing. Her mane and tail were snarled up from the blast and I sat there, brushing her mane with my hooves, not realizing I was looking at a dead pony. Dead. My best friend, my lover, my mate. Dead in 3.5 seconds. That was how long it took for her to smile at me one last time then take the beam that was meant for me. She died from my mistakes, but she did it willingly.
I sat there for days, weeks, maybe even months, stroking her hair and talking softly to her, telling her to wake up, that the danger had passed. She never woke up.
In reality, the whole thing took place in under two hours. The...demon, shall I say, came quickly, tried to kill me, failed, and left in a cloud of smoke. I was taken to an ambulance, where they asked if i had any injuries. They soon realized the only damage on me was the spiritual heart. Half of me died that day, taken along with my love. They let me see her, on most Saturdays when the guards are free. Can't risk letting me be alone in case I kill myself.
Today was a Saturday. The last two they wouldn't let me go. They still denied me today. I sat on my bunk and cried. I missed her, missed her more than my family. She was my light, my lifeline to the real world. I was already in deep depression when she found me. I was standing on a bridge, feeling the wind push against my back, almost as if it wanted me to jump. Then I heard a voice behind me.It was her.
"You know, jumping off that bridge won't kill you. You'll fall, but it's not high enough to shatter your bones, just break a few."
She walked up and stood on the edge with me. "If you're really serious about this, I can show you a bridge that will end your pain." She looked at me with those clear blue eyes. She was a pretty pony, one of the prettiest i had ever seen. I followed her to the bridge. It was a lot longer way down than the one I had chosen.
"You know, I've seen a couple of my friends go off this bridge, along with my brother. They all had problems with school in their youth, and it drove them to do this." She turned to me. "Why are you here?" Her voice, it sounded like honey the way it flowed.
"I saw my family get murdered, and somehow I got bank debt that wasn't even mine, one worth at least a million bits. I'm better off dead than alive." I stepped up onto the rail. "By the way, what's your name?", I said. She smiled. 
"If you jump off that bridge, you'll never find out." Then she turned and began walking to the city. After a moment of thought, I ran after her, and we became inseparable that day.
We were married five years later. We had a daughter, a beautiful mare now of high social status. We couldn't have been prouder. She studied and got into Canterlot, with Celestia herself as her teacher. She made many friends, and one who stood out was Twilight Sparkle. Delightful young mare. Didn't know much on friendship, though. But she learned. Oh, did she learn. I guess she's a princess now, isn't she? She earned it.
Anyways, my wife and I decided to go to the Gala, an anniversary gift from our daughter. We had the time of our lives until...until the blast happened.
I guess I'm not really here to tell you my life story, am I? This is a formal report to psychologists around Equestria so they can find out what the hell is wrong with me.
Next on the list, I guess, would be family. There's not much to talk about, but here goes,
I was born on -removed-,with my mother -removed- and my father -removed- standing over me with tears in their eyes. My mother's were most likely from pain, and my father's most likely from the heat, but I really couldn't tell.
From then on, I would say I had a good childhood. My parents never had much money, but we lived simply and didn't need many bits anyway. I had friends, good friends at that, but none stayed long. I always figured it was because they moved away, but it might've been that they changed and I never did.
The turning point in our family was my teenage years. I didn't go sour, but I isolated myself in my room for days on end, moping about how 'life wasn't fair' because my mom wouldn't let me have an allowance. We were even shorter on bits because my father would go to Las Pegasus all the time and gamble our money away.
Soon my mother and I began to starve, but that didn't stop my father. Soon, he had a debt so deep, he could never crawl out of it.
That's how my parents died. I woke up in the middle of the night by the sound of a vase breaking. I slipped out of bed and went into the hallway, where my parents were talking with some strange ponies. Suddenly, one grabbed my mother and held a gun to her head. My father began to talk frantically, but to no use. I closed my eyes and heard the bullet rip through her skull. The dull thud of her body hitting the floor seemed to hang in the air as the stallion with the weapon pointed it at my father. He didn't even have a chance. Soon, my father's blood stained the walls as well and the ponies left, laughing their way out.
I sat there for I don't know how long before the police came. They asked me questions, and I answered them, but now I knew I was truly alone in the world. My friends abandoned me, my family disowned me, and all my possessions were taken away in the will. I was tossed in the streets with no money and no chance of survival. That's when I met her.
Uh, What's next on the list? Oh, yeah. Hospitalization. So, after the Gala, I was sent here. We're forbidden to say the name, but I can give it another name: Hell.
Every morning, the siren goes off, we wake up, make the bed, and head downstairs for breakfast. I hate mealtimes, because I always have to sit with the f****** crazy ones. They sit there, staring at me while eating their food. I haven't eaten for weeks because I lose my appetite when I do that. I've tried to get a new seat, but the administration just shrugs it off, saying I should, 'toughen up, you little filly'. Yeah, let's have them try eating their spaghetti while being stared at by an entire silent table.
Then we do gym-like stuff, group chats, and we head off to bed after a song. But I don't sleep. I never sleep. I can't, with all these voices screaming my name from a fog. It's enough to drive me mad. But somehow, I don't. I always cling to the hope that someday, I can see my daughter.
Well, that's the end of the session. I'll be back next year, hopefully with results.

Name: -removed-
Age: -removed-
Occupation: None
Date accepted into -removed-: Unknown
State of mind: Grade 3 depression, slight insanity. Try more calming exercises, and give him more group therapy.

Hello. I am reporting from my former daughter's house. Turns out, she was assassinated on the day I called for her to visit me. Funny, isn't it? 
_laughter; slight chuckle_
I managed to get ahold of the 'doctor', a mare by the name of -removed-. You won't rule me or hurt me anymore!
_laughter; somewhat maniacal_
I'm ending it here, -removed-. I'm going to join my wife in the great beyond. Goodbye!
_sudden noise; gunshot_
_soft noise; suspected something fell_
-----End of recording-----