When Equestria is threatened by a new wave of depression, the mane six are ordered to study it personally.
When Equestria is threatened by a new wave of depression, Princess Luna takes it upon herself to study it personally. It isn't long before one of the mane six falls victim to the illness.
How many ponies have heard the phrase 'I'm fine' at any point in their lifetime.
They always say they're fine. No matter what they go through, somepony will always say 'I'm fine.' They could be burned till their skin is crispy or stuffed full of buckshot and all they'd say is 'I'm fine.' That was today's generation of ponies. They'd rather live their whole lives covering their wounds than showing one inkling of dependency. Because that's all society dictated. It's all their friends or family ever did; they told them to get out of the house and go make friends or, a classic response was 'get over it'.
Sadly, two months ago, Equestria knew nothing about depression. It was just a myth. Just a legend. If anypony off the street felt down, they would never call themselves 'depressed.' It would be that somepony was sad, or at the very best, sorrowful. It was never that severe. I didn't have any problem cheering anypony up. For a time, it was controllable. It was a steady, minor outbreak that was managed in buckets of ice cream and soft hugs.
It was ten thirty military time when my first patient came in. She was a wreck of a pony. Her eyes were swollen and red with something like crusted mucus and loose tears. I never asked why she was crying. It didn't seem right to ask when my first, professional client was stumbling into my office choking on her own sobs.
Her name was Cloudchaser, I later learned over a solo Lethargy-on-the-rocks. I offered Cloudchaser a sip or two, but she said she tried it a week ago. It didn't taste right to her, Cloudchaser explained, laying right down on my fainting couch. Something in it left a bad taste in her mouth. And that was right, because the vitamin d and anti-depressants that made Lethargy what it was, would've turned her tastebuds off. Because that's what depression did. It made happiness something to push away. I asked her what it tasted like to her, to which she replied 'it tastes like ashes.' And I knew she'd been right to come to my office.
"Depression is a stalwart illness," I explained to her, jotting notes down on my clipboard, keeping uniform unlike the other doctorates in the building.
"I've been informed that you already have a hard time eating and you've been showing signs of an eating disorder... Can you tell me why you don't like the taste of Lethargy. Does it remind you of something that happened during your life, even?" I asked, wholly attentive as she looked up with watery roses and sniffled lightly.
"Yes... I-I can. It tastes wrong. It doesn't taste bad but I don't like it. It's sweet and it makes me warm inside, but I can't stand that. I stopped eating because- I-I don't know, because it doesn't feel right. When I drink Lethargy or e-eat anything I-I liked before it's just... bland."
I watched her eyes glaze when she started piecing something together. A subtle breeze blew in from my window and she broke away from her sudden trance. Cloudchaser was a fit, healthy young pegasus that had no physical shortcomings or ailments. But, it was clear to me that she was mentally ill in some manner of speaking. Her next statement kept my eyes low with empathy.
"I... remember how good it used to taste. When grandma brought home her morcilla after work, I... I would always enjoy the way it stuck to my tongue. It was just good food. It made me happy. Do- do you know how it feels, doc, to get out of training camp and hear that the only pony in your family that gave a shit about you is gone?"
Her nostrils grew stuffy and all she could do was wipe it away with tissue. There were no words between us but the ones brooding inside us. In our heads. In our chests. They were swarms of busy bees assembling a hive from spare calcium structures. And each time they salvaged from our bare bones they took a piece away from us. I watched Cloudchaser pick herself apart and collapse into tears. She was no athlete when her grandmother passed away.
No.
She was a living, breathing person.
I prescribed her anti-psychotics, some 180mg of anti-depressants and some blood-thinners in-case she suffered any... injuries later on. I knew exactly how ponies got when they were alone and empty. They always thought of the pain. And that's why, sometimes, others called them selfish. Because they never seemed to care about all the people hurting with them. But it wasn't their fault. They were ponies just like us. And they were thrown into danger with only their wits and reminders of how to hurt. They didn't focus on themselves because they were horrible people. They were just trying to survive, so they drowned everybody else that tried to save them, thrashing about the deepest end of the ocean.
I heard her sniffle one more time after I explained to her the behavior of a depressed individual. Cloudchaser wept in front of me with wide, open eyes. Through her face came a smile when I suggested she try planning a get-together with her closest friends every weekend. To keep them around to do friendly sports and low-stress activities like walking around town or, just by suggestion, travelling.
It wasn't perfect. And I wasn't paid to suggest what she should do to combat the depression. But everything I told her helped my sportier clients deal with their sorrows. The fit would exercise and feel better. And the depressed needed to move. Whether it be forward or backward, was up to them.
"Cloudchaser... I want you to remember something. And promise me you'll never forget this. Okay?" I started, jotting down her prescription details.
"Y-yes, doc? Anything."
I glanced her way and met eyes with her, before tearing her slip carefully away.
"You're not alone. And you never will be. The first step towards getting help... is telling someone. And if you don't find help, tell everyone you can until someone listens. Then, spend time with them. Whenever you can, just try and enjoy the fact that someone cares enough to listen. If you do that- if everyone did that, we'd all be a lot happier."
Cloudchaser gave me a big, strong hug. And it nearly broke my back. A crooked smile worked over my lips and I decided to hold her back. Because it was good to be me. It was good to see Cloudchaser with hope in her eyes. The moment she walked out of my office, I took a sip of Lethargy on the rocks, it's dull shine inviting and illustrious. It was when I ingested my first few gulps that the buzzer rang. In stepped a familiar mare and I nearly dropped my glass.
"... Pinkie Pie?" I blurted out in somber shock.
"Hehe, yeah... Yeah, it's me, Luna." She replied, flopping down on the fainting couch.
"It's hot as hell outside." Pinkie whispered, closing her eyes without a drop of sweat on her.
"You're not sweating at all." I noted, circling the glass around and watching the red hues dance over ice.
A stray, fluffy sigh slipped my way and I almost wondered who's it was. Pinkie had never sighed in front of me ever. And it wasn't a normal, slow exhale. It was barely audible. Her expression was both glum and curiously scrunched together, as if something were literally eating away at her. I could feel the heavy, gnashing teeth of depression chipping away at her. Pinkamena, because I often thought of her with her birthname, tossed about her long, flowing mane and watched the window. Her eyelids were anchored in sleepy weight. And they stayed motionless, like her eyes.
"I probably cried my body dry. I dunno. Look, can we get this started. I'm tired and I'm tired of crying. Let's talk about what makes me a mess so you can give me pills and I can feel like a person again."
Did I mention it's September. Thanksgiving is coming around the corner and most ponies don't even have an appetite this time around. This year, the rate of depression and it's severity is alarming, to say the least. No one likes to talk around turkey and mash, so they'd rather eat alone in their rooms and remember their exes or stay in the quiet. Not that anything's wrong with that, but they'd be better off finding benefical things. Old comforts. New comforts. It'd be more uplifting than spending a day of grattitude alone with their sorrows.
Efficiency, that's what it's about. Being happy because it's good for you. And you stop thinking about all the horrible things that kept you up at night since you remember all the times they did it for you. So you stop. And you remember that they need you, but you need them so much more. Someone cynical would try and deconstruct this. And they'd say being selfless would lead somepony to ruin. And that's true, for the most part. People do take advantage of you.
But they actually wouldn't if you understood. If you knew who to shut out. And who to rely on. Hell, you'd be happy if you stopped trying to please everyone else and look at the people who really loved you. But you're just so special, aren't you. You're just so special that you wanna help everyone. You live for their approval. And that's why you'll never be happy.
That's why you'll never let anyone in for long.
You want someone to be happy for what you do, not who you are.
And when you want someone to be happy with who you are, heh... you refuse to change. You refuse to be better because god damn it, you aren't hurting anyone. Well, I can tell you that's not true, bud. If someone who cares for you and loves you refuses to let you stay who you are, they're probably fucking scared of who you've become, you self-absorbed cunt.
The princess dropped her tablet reading my blog. Her tablet and her notepad. Seeing Luna's face twist made me bust a gut. Because everybody was always so surprised. Oh, Pinkie Pie, you're fine. Oh, Pinkie Pie, get over it. Just remember you aren't starving and dying in Alpaca. Oh gee, genius, I didn't realize depression was a mental deathtrap. I thought it was a sickness like being homosexual. Yeah, real helpful, fucking douchebag.
"Is this... really how depression makes you feel?" Luna murmured, scrambling to find the notepad she dropped.
I closed my eyes and felt my lips contort. I felt the boozy air of her office stick to my teeth. Oh. It was a shit-eating grin. Air slipped my lips as I watched the ground by her hooves. And I saw the shadows grabbing at her from the lowest point of her office.
"Yeah... Yeah, it makes me feel like shit. I wanna cut myself apart and light the pieces on fire. Because holy shit, I'm so selfish and everyone else around me is such a dick. I can't find anything to be happy about because none of those fuckers know where I've been. Everyone tells me to 'get better' or 'get over it.' And that's when I realize they don't care. They don't care at all. They didn't try to cheer me up because they'd fight it with me and pull me out no matter what. They just wanna feel good about themselves. Typical ponies, right...?"
My psychiatrist was still jotting notes down. Her gaze kept to yellow notepad paper, barely deviating in the span of eight, silent minutes. And I watched her for every second. Every minute. Because I was watching her. Waiting for her to say something.
My eyes strayed away to other sights. A half-empty glass of Lethargy on the rocks, a mess of textbooks about the anatomy of happiness and a swarm of dust particles caught my eye. The dust was the first thing I noticed. Ever since I grew depressed, my room and workspace shared a common chaos.
"You... You speak of wanting to cheer everyone up. Even though you try, you blame yourself for relying so heavily on approval. Why? Isn't that something subconscious. It's not an intentional thought process, it's just a learned behaviour. A habit." Luna stated, giving me at least one thing to consider.
I sighed and leaned over the high end of her funky psychiatrist furnishing. It was velvet and squashed cooly against my skin. Was there anything more comforting. Well, hm, besides somepony else's coat on your back?
"I... just know it's my fault. Even if it isn't my fault for learning it, I should know better. I should know better by now. But everytime somepony tells me to help them do chores or they're sad and someone left them, I... I really enjoy it when they fucking use me.
I-It's so fucking stupid. No one else knows how it feels. I'm Ponyville's town fucking bicycle. When someone uses me and they fucking smile, because they're fucking happy, I get off to it. Do you know how horrible that is. It's so grotesque and monstrous I can't even remember the last time I didn't feel disgusted after sex."
I was shaking. I felt my hooves rattling away without a sound. They tickled against my hindleg fur.
"They always want gangbangs. Everyone wants gangbangs. I'm sick of being touched by people I don't even know. I'm sick... of liking it when people use me and they put on their fake fucking smiles just to get what they want. On the holidays, I'm broke because I give and I give but no one gives back. And I'm sick of it all."
I heard Luna's timer expire and ring it's obnoxious ring. Though I moved toward the edge, she stopped me by raising her left forehoof.
"Pink one... Pinkie Pie. I understand how you feel. But you can be selfish. You can try to say no to yourself. But you can definitely say no to other people. They don't control you. They don't have any power over you unless you give it to them. No matter how sad they act or what they say to guilt you, say no. Because things like sex and love, things like care should never be squandered. You should never feel guilty if someone is trying to use you."
I felt a tear slip my eye and I didn't know why. I couldn't understand a word she said about any of the latin nomenclature or medicinal jargon. My eyes were glued to her face. Her muzzle was stuck right at me. And I felt... like kissing her.
"Pinkie...? Pinkie. Are you listening?" Luna pouted, biting her lip.
A startled nod left my head jumbled. I felt dizzy, but that was fine. She didn't know. All I did was take her pills and linger on how she looked so upset. So... humorously eager to get rid of me for her next client. I chuckled under my breath when I realized I was nobody to her. I was just another face.
All I was, all that I'd ever be, was someone she felt like helping.
I walked out and started shaking after I closed the door.
Maybe Luna thought I was boring.
Maybe I was just ungrateful.
I closed my eyes and lit a cigarette, remembering I was her addiction; that I was nothing but endorphins.
I waited without tapping my pen on anything. I didn't click it without a functioning attention span. And I didn't use it like a drumstick like annoying schoolponies did. No, I waited and waited while making sure to stare awkwardly at my disgruntled patient. Her hooves never stopped moving. I could never count a moment in time from her arrival to her irritating silence in my fainting couch where she ever stopped fidgeting around like a crack-laced monkey. My own were almost bursting with spare pen parts. I wanted to strike her. My wandering eye stuck to my half-empty glass and all the ice inside. But what good was ice without Lethargy. What good was ice without a drink. What good was a psychiatrist without a god damn patient.
"Miss... Scootaloo." I finally whispered, pushing her name through all my teeth.
"Please use our time to talk about your depression."
I saw one glance from her. It was only one glance in twenty minutes of stone-cold silence. She didn't speak and neither did I in some horrific mutual vow of silence. So I crinkled my muzzle and asked her a question. Before I asked, her eyes were heavy with sleepiness and general apathy.
"Miss... Miss Scootaloo. It's time you and I have a chat. The bell will ring,"
It rattled awake as if to mock me.
"but we are still talking. You and me are still conversing because you will not slip away from my care that easily. Now, let's see. You don't like talking about your mother or your father. But you do show signs of accute attention deficit and post traumatic tendencies. I'll prescribe to you some Adderall and some higher end anti-psychotics. But if I do... will you please promise to have a picnic with me tomorrow afternoon...?"
That snapped her right awake. She struggled to focus her eyes as her right eyebrow raised far higher than the other. Scootaloo, or Scarlet Skates as she was legally named, had that look of a child told she was free to leave class early. A curious sense of wonder and whimsy entered her eyes as the impossible connected deep within her. Scarlet's words cracked her voice apart, as if she'd saved them for centuries beforehand and her throat was dry with phantom tension. The gravity of my words, I could tell, struck her blind to even her own ghastly depression.
"You... you wanna have a picnic? With me...?"
I tilted my head with a smirk and I chuckled after, amused at how... shocked she was. I showed my teeth in slight comfort, never knowing how cute a mare could be at that spoiled and young age.
"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I... ?"
Her lips parted and she glanced away. First with just her eyes, then with all her head.
"I... I thought you were just a quack. You're just my doctor and I'm just your patient, right? So... so you shouldn't care about me like that. Don't you need to be distant and professional or something?" She reasoned with herself.
I laughed uncomfortably at the raw force of her truth. We locked eyes for a minute and she glanced away sharper than the other times. It was almost like a jerk away from me, rather than some half-hidden gesture of subconscious focus.
"Well... that's true. I'm a doctorate and you're a patient, true. Just, I'm not like the others. I don't treat it like a job even though some of my patients are annoying. I'm two things at once in this office... I'm a psychological support expert that counsels you and provides you well-earned medication. But, underneath all that glam and paperwork, I'm also," I said, pouring myself Lethargy on the rocks.
"An equine being just like you."
I smiled shortly as she rubbed her forehooves together, uncomfortable, but not from me, but due to her social anxiety and stilted mannerisms.
"That's why I'm taking you on a picnic. So you can see I eat and sleep and drink just like the rest of you. And that's when you'll tell me all about yourself. Because I'm real, Scootaloo. I'm not a robot."
Officer Doo peaked in from behind my office door and shifted about her mismatched eyes. Her innocent charm forced giggle from me. She elated me. She elated everyone with how cheery and indominable she was. To Cloudsdale, she was Officer Doo. To her underlings and recruits, she was Derringer Doo, for her quick and bullet-like dash speed. But, to me...?
"Hey mom... Can I go now?" Scootaloo groaned, rubbing the back of her mane, hiding the blush on her cheeks.
"Yes, silly... You can. Thanks again Doctor Cosmos! You took real good care of her. I haven't seen her this happy since she was lookin' for a cutie mark-"
"Mom! I'm bored! N-now quit talkin' like I'm a baby, take me home...!" She groaned, shooting out her seat and dragging her mother away from my office.
I smiled brightly to think... this was the same girl I helped all those years ago. With her nightmares and illogical fears brittling her away, she used to be in the closet. In more ways than one, she'd molted more times than I could ever count. The same schoolgirl I met four years ago was all grown up, scoffing and rolling her eyes just like any other teen. She wasn't afraid of being a blank flank anymore. She was afraid of losing people and looking dumb in front of friends. Scarlet- no, Scootaloo... was learning how to grow and how to change.
To me, Officer Doo would always be the angel that saved Scootaloo.
And that was why everyone else had a hero full of superpowers and angst; but my hero, in all her glory, was a mother of two and the best police officer Cloudsdale could ask for.
I finished my cup and through the murky glasswork, I spotted a cotton candy mane and cigarette smoke billowing over her.
"Hey doc... It's me again. You ever wake up one day and feel like blowing your brains out in front of your mom?"
I stayed quiet and nodded.
"Yes. I have. But only because mother always called sister a 'no good whore.'"
The sun was shining. The birds were singing. And sister was probably getting out of her royal chariot in the sparse parking lot. Ponyville's parks were rather docile and serene. There were few wild brushes and veggies encroaching on the main space. It was, for the lack of a better word, uniform grass dotted with simple acer circinatum and the very rare acer saccharinum. That made it less boring than other, more streamlined park sites.
Our picnic sheet was settled atop the grass, away from the tree life. It was littered with all sorts of dishes, from dry-rubbed barbecue ribs, to spanakopita, chicken kiev and even some bitterballen. I myself brought the tiropita and some of Celestia's favorite: shredded alfalfa and julienne'd artichoke glazed with honey and figs. I knew the kitsch of my dish was embarrassing and stuck out like a sore thumb, but Chelly was Chelly. We all had our tastes and so did Scootaloo, who prefered eating all and I mean all of her food with mayonnaise and sriracha dressings.
Her first bite was into the illusory meat of tiny tiropita triangles. She'd drizzled her first piece with her signatue dressing, and it left her lips oily in countless manners. I couldn't describe the look on her face, whether it be her childish splendor, or that little glint in her eye. In all my years, I knew it as awe. But it was more than that. Awe was a feeling of overwhelming beauty. The glow in her eyes, all from crisp and flaky phyllo, was reunion. And reunion, in the lap of her adopted mother, even after turning fourteen not two weeks prior, was all the beauty in the world times ten.
I saw it in her eyes, crisp autumn nights full of gentle breeze and swaying leaves. She would sit in one, breezy meadow with Officer Doo, lavishing about with pita, tiropita and late night complaints about how annoying the other kids at school were. That, in my wild imagination, was what she saw when she took that first, longing bite.
Her mother, Ditzy Doo, kept her eyes on me and broke into a smile. It's edges were pressed upward and angled, almost like Ditzy were tearing her muscles just expressing herself.
"You sure look happy, Ms. Cosmos. Did you think of something funny?"
"O-oho, you... No, I've just daydreamed for a while. But let's enjoy our picnic. Pray tell, I noticed a many Greak dishes in this picnic. Do you favor Greak over Fancy or Roaming...?"
My question drew a single chortle from her. Officer Doo was out of uniform, but I could still see that baton on her. It's impression forever lingered in my mind. She brought it everywhere with her, but, today, it's absence puzzled me. She glanced away with her mismatched eyes and lit a smoke to start her tale.
"My mama was a Greak pony. Papa was a Roaming stallion. He worked hard to take us out of Grease when it started struggling with debts. We were lucky mama had a gyro stand and papa had a job at the local police force. Everyday, I'd come home from school beat up and cut everywhere... and mama would be there with cold gyro. She always yelled at me, but that was okay..."
I felt a tear escape my eyes and I hid it with a cough, wiping my eyes dry. Officer Doo had that tired look in her eyes. Her lids were scrunching upward and her brows dipped deeply to show pain she'd never admit she had. And beneath that smile, so wide it could brighten the sky, I heard her heart tear in two.
"Before I... got to Ponyville, I worked as a delivery girl. I rode one of mama's special flying brooms all over Sparti, Mystara and Kalamata. Since we lived in Sparta, I uh used Taygetus to train my flying and conditioned myself walking up and down, too. Everyday, I'd train for my delivery job so I could fly straight without the broom... and well, when I finally got too good, I had time to spare. So... eventually, eating gyros and pita and sometimes souvlaki, turned into wanting to cook."
Scootaloo covered her mouth. And I had no idea why. But they both silenced themselves, Officer Doo with some supple bitterballen and spanakopita. I noticed their eyes were turned away from me. So I turned around to see. It was nothing at all. Just Celestia and Discord having their own picnic in a newly-erected treehouse. I turned back and scoffed to myself. When would she ever learn to stay away from the bad boys.
"So, you said you'd come back home injured and hurt... Well, why exactly was that? I can't imagine school sports being that rough."
My question made Scootaloo choke on her mish mash amalgamation of phyllo and lamb meats. Ditzy Doo chuckled too, but all her years of stiffling laughter kept her food still. Her smile was the mischievous one. Scootaloo was a rough and tumble sort but she was... precariously naughty.
"Hmhm... It's true, I used to come home hurt and beat up. But back then, I was a different pony. We grew up poor. I... learned a lot from papa. And papa was a good thief. But I was always too clumsy. After I was diagnosed with ocular lazyitis, he made me do sports." Officer Doo shifted about and lay flat on her haunches.
She popped a piece of Shelly's favorite dish. And, to my complete and utter surprise, she was blown away by it. I met her puppy dog eyes and said 'have some more' through absent-minded grinning.
"I was no good at things like olympic discus or anything like that. But, ha, I was a good boxer. Soon enough, the kids at school were making fun of me. And... you know, I got into fights. Typical underdog story, right? Anyway, um, I grew out of street fights. But I did get better at boxing. Just ask my station mates."
It was then I rest my right cheek against my hoof... just enjoying my day off. I was blessed. Because there, in Breazy Meadow Park, I'd seen a real family again. They weren't throwing things at each other, or cursing about money and power struggles. They were just... happy to be alive. I looked back at my ex and Shelly... realizing how wrong I'd been to lash out at her everytime she wanted to visit Mother.
Mother wasn't a bad person. She wasn't even a person I could wilfully acknowledge as selfish. She was troubled and grew up in hell. Her saturdays were never picnics or pleasant family gatherings. They were all counting grams and shouting who cheated who on their last shipment. A long time ago, Equestria was a very different place. It was full of prejudice and hate.
But, most of all, it was filled... with coldness.
And, I knew right then and there, that was why Scootaloo never opened up to the others. They analyzed her and ran tests on her. But they didn't treat her like a person. Who did she have to turn to except for Sweetie Belle, Applebloom and her mother Ditzy...?
"Scootaloo." I started, writing out my prescription slip.
"Y-yeah...?" She answered startled and dropping a bitterball.
I closed my eyes and felt my lips curl skyward. I gave her the slip and answered, writing a memo in my cellular named 'family picnic.'
I stayed again in my special chair, awaiting Pinkie Pie's new obstacle. Because, from the looks of her swollen, bloodshot eyes, she was in no mood for chatter. I stayed quiet, letting her build and brood, to take apart the little gremlins attacking her psyche. She stayed smiling in a curiously crooked way, to the right and showing her teeth in some, gruff expression of wellness.
"Doc... You ever been in love with someone, but they leave you because you're too clingy...?"
I instantly nodded and felt completely better about our therapy session. Because this was a situation I knew. This was a place I'd been and could actually answer her with. I scrawled a word down and made it 'relationships.'
"Yes, I have. I'm a specialist when it comes to being clingy. And pity sex, too."
I made her spit her drink out, which was just water, thankfully. But I sat still wiping us both dry with a spare towelette. It was rich and especially dry, pleasant against my coat and better against Pinkie's.
I pressed it against her thigh just to tease. She yelped and covered herself, glancing away with a 'horn dog...' We started again with our tired, but comfortable grins. Because we were both kindred souls, her and I, with history only we would ever know.
"Well... hehe, me too. Specially when we're talking about Rainbow Dash. I gave the girl whatever she wanted and I was always happy she was around. I did all sorts of things, y'know, I wrote poetry, I sung for her, hell I even got into hoof-boxing just to look good."
Pinkie lit a cigarette over the edge of the fainting chair. Unlike other psychologists, counselors, therapists and quacks, I let my patients make their own decisions in my office. No bullying. No peer-pressure. I trusted them as mature, reasonable adults to handle their drug problems. And if not, if they had a note from the front desk saying otherwise, or an ink stamp saying they couldn't, that's when I acted.
"But she... didn't stick around, you know. Guess it was my fault for being so boring. Maybe, I was just too bland for her."
That piqued my interest. Why would she say that. Pinkamina was not the most mundane pony around. In no universe was she anything near mundane. I would've said, if it weren't so biased, that she were the last pony I'd call 'boring.'
"Boring? I'm pretty sure that wasn't her reason, Pinkamina. Doest... do you have another reason in-mind. Because that sounds rather ludicrous. If you take into account Rainbow Dash and her recent anxiety episodes, perhaps she's just... scared."
We stayed inanimate like the ice in my glass, drowned with memories instead of Lethargy. I felt my own shatter to pieces when I remembered my last love. She was a young mare just barely the age of thirty. And she'd always come home and call me with her cellular. Day in and day out, we'd Scope. Scope was a video and voice and instant messaging communications software developed in Sweetden. At the time and even during the time of Pinkie there, it was, for the lack of a better word, paradise. No more awkward and stilted physical vicinity. No more odd stops in alleyways to get mugged, because you fell for a crooked Crabslist ad...
In retrospect... she was a lot like Pinkamina. Her hair was gold. And her eyes were violet. It was her cheery demeanor that drew me in. I was a gloomy mare back then, much gloomier than anypony in my family could handle. I lashed out. I kicked and I screamed. I did everything. But one thing... I never did, was understand ponies like my Surprise did.
The first day we met, I was in the rain, alone and boozed on Applejack Daniels. I met her eyes with hate and slurred 'at what art thou gandering?' and she replied 'doth you force me to say... the fairest maiden in all the land?'
And I fell for her right there, alone and down on my luck.
I stayed away from shattered memories of my beloved. I feared I would grieve her like I used to. It was complicated. The term, Celestia once educated me during an alcohol intervention, was 'complicated grief'. I would see her everywhere. I would delude myself into believing she would one day come back and kiss me goodnight. That we would shed no more tears and fly away forevermore, this was my dream; my irrational and desparate hope that my Surprise hadn't died in my hooves ten years ago. No, I told myself, clinging and clutching to her name every night at 10:30 sharp. She was still alive. And someday, she'd sweep me off my hooves and rescue from my booze-soaked misery.
I looked up from my notepad, my eyes bloodshot, my cheeks soaked with cold perspiration and tears. And Pinkamina was there too, holding my forehooves still.
"Luna...? Luna, what's wrong- you've been crying for an hour straight..."
"Oh I... I didn't notice. Would you kindly just- excuse yourself from the office, I must've been attacked by allergies."
I fumbled and I knocked my glass over in blurred confusion. I couldn't see anything. And my mind was shocked from abrupt transit. I heard her sniffle and then she held me still... holding me. I tried not to feel comfortable. I really did. But she was Pinkamina Diane Pie. And she looked just like my Surprise. Same downward mane when struck ill with depression. Same suicidal tendencies.
They even held me the same... So I held her back. And I jittered everywhere, remembering her blood on my hooves. And the last words she ever said to me.
'I... pulled the trigger. I couldn't live without you...'
I held her close, Pinkamina Diane Pie, the closest one to my Surprise,
and I kept her away from thoughts of brains on my coat, away inside
the way she went out, the way she shot her temple and died, leaving me to cry.
She saw me cry. I was such a mess. I didn't know where to go after that. We held and as I held her, I cried more. It felt like Surprise was back in my life again. But that wasn't true. I used her to feel like she was alive again.
I didn't care about her. I didn't care for Pinkie. I didn't deserve that hug and I didn't deserve that kiss I stole from her two hours ago. I didn't deserve the sex. I didn't.
"Pinkie Pie, I..." I sobbed, muffling my lips and pressing my hooves against them.
I did it. I was depressed again. The whole town was in danger because of me and it was all that stupid... No, no it was my fault. I didn't let go of Surprise because I was scared. I didn't let go because she was bad to me, or hit me or yelled at me. Surprise never abused me. I hurt her. I was the one letting her down; I was the one keeping her from being happy, I reasoned so long ago, crying night after night I forgot to say I loved her or couldn't finish in bed.
It was my depression. I was depressed and it- it spread to my fucking lover, the only pony I'd ever call my wife, that's the person I condemned for my own selfish fucking needs. In the mirror, I saw her; Nightmare Moon was sneering at me, not inches away from my muzzle smashed against the glass.
"Damn you, Nightmare Moon, let me be...!"
I jabbed the mirror and stomped it to shards. And the shards stuck into me, falling around my coat with the most jagged pieces embedded deep within, like her; like my memory of her. So I curled up for as long as I could and lay on the floor, a cold sting familiar to my wings and aged, old soul. I was used to lying down in that comfortable position. And like a foal, I never was a mare, bucking nightmares in the dark for every mistake that I had made. Till I saw her violets cry and held her face in my hooves. I fell down screaming 'just take my life away.'
Celly broke my door down and she teared up when she saw me, broken and writhing in my own derilect state. I remembered the times before and all the good she'd done, all the mercy she showed me even as a trouble child... a horrible sister. I felt her legs around me and I struggled, afraid I'd hurt her too.
"Sister! I'm- I'm not safe! Please, go away...!"
I kicked my hindlegs back and forth in rapid frenzy, knocking over various shampoos and conditioners. The shower curtains came crashing down as I knocked us over to the tub. And even though I hurt her, even though my bucking had drawn blood from her perfect muzzle, she restrained me carefully.
"Luna! Luna, it's okay...! It's okay, I'm here!"
I grit my teeth and choked on my tears, on all the things I never said to Her, my beloved, my one and only Surprise. And then I forced my sobs back, remembering how miserable Tia was without me.
"It's okay... I'm here now. You're safe with me." Celestia whispered, nuzzling me from behind.
I sobbed my guilt away, clinging against her just minutes from breaking down. We held close till all I smelled was ocean blue #22, her makeup, her lipstick pressed gently against my lips. I never told anypony about our relationship, about our fucked family bonds and even more fucked coping mechanisms. But we were sisters. We were close. That meant something between us, us two troubled souls lost at sea. We were free when locked away with each other, because we were all we had...
"Celly... what is wrong with me...?" I sniffled, breaking my walls against her chest, rubbing my eyes dry.
"Nothing..."
I shut my eyes and embraced her, the only sunshine life had ever given me. So I hung my head and bled, over her. Sister saved my life in that bathroom, the very place my Surprise took her own life. Celestia cradled me against her. She held me close and pressed our lips one more time.
"Nothing is wrong with you. I love you just the way you are. When mother put you on this earth... she didn't know it, but you were always destined to be... the prettiest star to fall from the sky. The most gorgeous. The most precious. I'm sorry you don't see it yourself. But I'll be here to show you how much I really need you."
Sister stroked my mane and closed her eyes, crying over me without a sob or sniffle in sight.
"I love you. Don't ever scare me like that again... What would I do without you?"
In the rain, I sat beneath the water, biding my time before I fell. I would take my life away. I would jump. And nopony would ever see it again. Nightmare Moon had made a mockery of me three days ago. No matter how many times I forgave myself, the damn thing never died for long. I learned that after six, nightmare-filled nights. And once, on the seventh day, I woke up to see it was real. I didn't have much time. Or, rather, I don't.
As I write this, you and the Tantabus are engaging battle in the dining hall.
I knew it would come to this. But if I don't die... if I don't take my own life, it'll only grow stronger. You have to understand, Celly, I never wanted this. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Especially not you. We've had our time together. We've had a thousand years, haha... I think it's safe to say I love you at this point, dear sister. I think it's safe to say I was a fool for picking Surprise over you. For picking anyone over you.
You were here all my life. And I never wanted you close. Because I was scared, sister.
You were just like mother. You even yelled the same.
And I'm sorry to say... but I was blind.
Deep inside, I could hear her voice under yours. And I didn't hold you close enough to keep it away. All my memories, of the family I never wanted, were always on your shoulders. I'm sorry I was scared. I'm sorry I didn't see how important you really were to me. I'll never forget you.
When you and Discord have that child, make sure to raise her right.
Remember to kiss her booboos all better and play alfalfa monster once in a while.
I... I love you.
I have to jump now. Be good. And don't forget to smile. Atter all... you were always meant to be the brightest star in the sky. The most gorgeous. The most precious. Of all the stars in the night sky, you were the only one I ever wished for.
