I've been feeling empty lately. Not sad, not happy, just... empty. I fake a smile around the girls. I don't know if they notice.
There is something that ends the emptiness. I don't like it, but I'd rather feel pain than nothing. So long as the girls don't notice. I don't need that kind of attention, or worry.
AN/ this story contains descriptions of cutting and self harm. It doesn't describe the act, but does describe the aftermath. If you don't read it because of that, I understand.
I love school. Always have. I like to learn, I love to read, and school has been one of the best places for that. Studying under the princess was amazing; she had so much knowledge to share. I got to learn so much that others could only dream of: history, mathematics, sciences, art.
CHS is nothing compared to that. They took me in as a freshman. Fair enough, the portal does weird things to age and time flow. I think it’s something like one year here is two and a half there. But whatever.
The problem is I am bored. So, incredibly, mind-numbingly, bored. Celestia was teaching me advanced level calculus before I ran away. Now I sit through pre-calc. I can’t believe the whole english courses. I mean, how can you reach high-school in this world and not know how to write a well developed sentence? All we do every day is writing and reading. What am I supposed to be learning here?
Applejack says it’s mandatory, that there was some problem with kids graduating and not being able to read or write. I don’t understand how that’s possible.
History is at least a little fun. It’s something I don’t already know at least. And this world’s biology is pretty cool; There is so much the same, but those little differences, since they don’t have magic, are so important.
Chem was fun last year, too. Celestia taught me alchemy, so chemistry is at least something new. The best parts are the labs, to be honest. Getting to play around with chemicals is so much fun.
But for the most part, it’s boring. Not worth coming to class. I could pass these classes without showing up. Except history of course. If only this world’s history was more interesting, something to keep me engaged.
So here I am, getting dressed on another Tuesday morning. The warehouse is busy this time of morning; all the other homeless are getting up too, ready to start their days. They’ve been nice to me. Despite what some may say, they’re good to each other. They took me in, gave me some private space, even a desk and candles for homework. Despite all the anger and rage I held for years, I could never be angry at these people. They’ve been more of a family to me than Celestia or my actual parents ever were.
Ugh. Celestia. I was horrible to her. She gave me so much kindness and love, and I just threw it all in her face. I’m not ready to face her. But it will be a long time before I can cross over to Equestria again anyways. So not something to worry about.
Twilight though. She’s the other princess I know. She’s gorgeous. Well, over here at least. I don’t think I’ve seen her as a- no wait. I have. Briefly after I stole her crown. Ya, she was damn cute. I wanna snuggle up in her-
A sharp pain brings me back to the present. I bite my lip to keep quiet. My shirt pulled across my scabs. I think a few of them got torn off. I lift my shirt and- yep. I’ve got three torn cuts on my stomach. Cuts I made myself. I’ve got nineteen between the bottom of my bra and the top of my jeans. Another twenty-eight on my thighs.
I like the pain. At least that’s something I can still feel. I was doing okay; making friends, faking being happy, forcing laughs. Then the stupid battle of the bands. Celestia and her damn “Most exciting event since the fall formal!” Of course she had to bring it up. And then, non-stop, everyone was making snide remarks. Each time they were all “ohh, no offense.” And I’d have to say, “None taken.”
That fuckin’ hurt. I thought they were my friends, but there they go, making fun of me. I know friends tease each other, but shouldn’t they know that’s a little too much?
I guess I should tell them. Maybe then they’ll shut up about the dance. I feel horrible about all of it. Not just the dance, but everything else I did.
Meh. I can’t stay angry. I can’t stay anything anymore. Except pain. That stays. I grab my tights and pull them on, being careful to not tear off any more scabs. The ones one my chest are easier to hide; they won’t bleed through, and I just have to keep my jacket closed.
That’s everything I need. Except-
There’s my pocket knife. Emerald gave it to me. It’s a pretty red thing. It matches my hair. I’m sure he stole it from somewhere; to be fair, most of the stuff here is stolen. My backpack, these candles. Hell, even most of my clothes were given the five finger discount. I love that phrase. Leave it to humans to come up with such a silly euphemism.
The blade is a little dull. It hurts, forcing it to cut me. But it’s a good pain. Not, like, in a sexual way. I’ve heard of that kink. Cutting doesn’t get my heart racing. I mean it does, but not like that. It’s just a reminder that I am alive. It’s hard to remember that sometimes.
I’m not going to bring it today. Not enough places to hide it, wouldn’t be a chance to leave any marks at school, and if Luna finds out…
Maybe I should tell her. I usually just talk about whatever is on my mind with her. I’m scheduled to meet with her tomorrow, but she’s said I’m welcome any time. Then again, what is she going to say? Stop? I don’t want to. I like the pain. I need it.
I won’t talk to her today. Not worth going in over this. I’ll see how I am tomorrow. Maybe I’ll bring it up then.
I sling my bag over my shoulder, flick off my desk lamp. Nice little battery powered thing. Not much light, but enough.
I give my room one last look. Four walls, a few feet across each way, a few blankets for sleep, a few crates for a desk. I used to hate this little room. Felt I deserved so much more than this. I quite literally wanted to be a princess. Heh, some of the others here called me princess for a while. I liked it. They don’t anymore; I told them to stop.
Now I can’t help but feel like this is exactly what I deserve. I’m a runaway. A drop out. An outcast. I don’t even belong in this reality. Maybe I should talk to Twilight about going home…
Another day. Right now, I need to leave for school. Can’t be late.
The whispers as I walk towards my locker aren’t as bad anymore. They used to be full of hate; teens taunting me for the shit I pulled. Before the dance, they wouldn’t have dared; I would have beat the shit out of them. After, they all knew I was changing, and wouldn’t dare respond. Now, after the sirens… The whispers are a little nicer.
I can’t hold back a chuckle as I overhear two guys saying they’d totally do me. The fact that, according to this world’s beauty standards, I’m really sexy worked well for me. Now, at least it’s not being used against me. I give the two guys a smile. I have to. I know I dated Flash, but I never felt anything for him. I’m a fillyfooler through and through. Love me a soft snuggly mare.
Not sure how I feel about girls here though. I’d certainly rather hold someone like Pinkie close, with all her chub, but I don’t know if I’m ‘attracted’ to her like that.
Thinking about her sends a twinge of regret through me. I remember all the shit I did to them. It fades quickly. I shake it off and unlock my locker. Heh. This world is great at naming things. I mean, walkie-talkies? Seriously? I mean, everything in Equestria is a pun, but at least those are creative. Here they’re just-
Eh, I don’t really care. It takes too much energy to keep caring. I can manage a few minutes, but I’m not going to waste what little I’ve got on names for things in this world.
One of the few things Twilight and I have in common is a need for organization. I’m sure we got it from Celestia. My locker is perfectly organized. I don’t even have to look as I pull books from my bag, put them away, and grab what I need for class. Not that I need to even show up, to be honest. I’ve got English Lit first thing. It’s all about reading stories written decades ago, then talking about how the story is a commentary on something or other.
All fiction is a commentary on the contemporary times. Almost nothing is written for the sake of writing. The stuff they make us read is on the far other end though. It’s all full of symbolism and metaphor. It’s crap.
I groan. At least it’s easy. With my stuff gathered, I kick my locker shut and head for the music room. Rainbow wants us to practice every day before class, but, honestly, we just sit and talk most of the time. There’s an acoustic in there I tend to play. It’s a nice soft melody behind the talking. It gives me something to do with my hands. And the perfect excuse to not actually talk to them.
Food. I should eat. Not sure if I’m actually hungry or not. But I know I need to eat. The girls will ask too many questions. The line for lunch is long, like always. I don’t talk to anyone in line. They’re nicer now. Much better since that damn Battle of the Bands. Still get the whole damn ‘Ohh, no offence,” crap. Like I need reminding of the raging she-demon I turned into. I just wish they’d shut up about it.
Line doesn’t take too long. I get a salad. Like always. It’s the only thing they serve I can stomach. These humans eat way too much meat. Every now and then they get a vegetarian pizza in, but it’s like once a month. But today is special. There’s a whole tomato I can grab. No one else is going to, no one else likes them as much as me. I grab it just before I get to the checkout. I scan my code, just like everyone else. They do that right at least; no one knows I’m poor and get the free lunch. Knowing these kids they’d never let me live it down.
They still give me a wide berth as I work through to our table. Used to be mine, but now my friends sit with me. I briefly consider if I should eat outside again. I decide against it. I ate alone last week. Still not fully ready to tell them. The princess knows, and that’s enough for now. She’s been good to me. She’s not pushing me to tell them either. She just wants me to get better. I don’t deserve her.
I sit with the girls. They beat me here, as usual. My previous class is on the far side of the building. They’re already talking about something. I listen for a few seconds, then smile. It’s fake, but I can pretend to be joining in the conversation.
Dash gives me a look. I remember what she said a few weeks ago. I let my smile falter just a little for her. Her nod is subtle. I wouldn’t have guess she could do anything subtly. But there it is.
I talk with my friends. It doesn’t matter what we’re talking about, I won’t remember after lunch. It’s just mindless chatter. It does make me feel a little better though. For a moment, my smile is genuine. For a moment, I’m happy. It doesn’t last. It never does.
School is over. Finally. I make my way to my locker again. It doesn’t take me long to grab all my things for the evening. Fluttershy walks me out the building. She’s got to hurry to the shelter, they need some extra help. Someone called out sick. I can’t head over to her place to help her with homework tonight. I tell her it’s okay. That I don’t mind.
I don’t. I don’t care at all. The free food her family would have made would’ve been nice, but I’ll survive. I always do. I’ve still got that tomato from lunch. Glad I saved it. It’ll make for a nice snack.
I hop on my bus home. It didn’t take me long to route out which school bus got me closest. I sit alone on- The bus is full today. Someone is sitting with me. I scooch over and make room for them. I flash them a smile, then look out the window. My smile doesn’t last long enough to make my reflection. I recognized the kid next to me. Not enough to know their name. I bullied them, that’s all.
The ride isn’t long. I get off at my stop and start my walk home. It isn’t too far; I cut through a construction site. The know me; I helped them fix the school. They give me genuine smiles. I can trust them. They don’t know the bad in me, the just saw the repentance. I give them a smile back. I’m glad there’s a few people in this world who will give me a chance.
The old warehouse is on the other side of the site. I slip in through the break in the fence, then slide under a cracked wall. No one else is back yet. My room beckons. I head up.
My knife is there still. Right where I left it. Of course it is. I strip down and sit in my chair. The cold metal hurts against my skin. I let it. I need to feel the pain. Flipping the knife open, I rest the tip against my thigh. I’m ready to make another slash.
I don’t.
I’m not counting days. I’m not counting anything. It’s a reminder. A reminder of what it is to feel. I don’t need that right now.
I close the knife before putting it back. I pull a textbook from my bag and sigh. Homework time.
Homework didn’t take long. My tomato was juicy. My chest is a little sticky from the spray. I don’t care. I’ve got a book from the school library. The girls said I had to read Lord of the Rings. It’s deep, heavy, but most importantly, long. I spend hours just reading. Soon enough it’s time to eat. I throw on some clothes and head to the soup kitchen.
I don’t know what it is; I don’t ask. They assure me it’s vegan, and it’s warm. That’s enough for me. There’s plenty of people talking. It’s loud. I sit alone, away from everyone else. I don’t take long. I return my plate, thank them, and leave.
I go back home. Home. Such a strange word. There’s a saying, common to both worlds, ‘Home is where the heart is.’ What if the heart is broken? What if the heart doesn’t care anymore? Is home anywhere then?
I guess home is in my books then. That’s where I care. Where I feel. At least I have somewhere to escape to.
I sometimes wonder if I should just return to Equestria. I wonder if I’m allowed to. But I don’t. I know Twilight would want me to meet Celestia. I can’t. Not yet. There’s still too much pain.
Once I’m back in my room I change into my sleep clothes and get into my bed. It’s not much; an old mattress and a few sheets. But it keeps me warm enough.
I settle into my bed. I grab my light and my book and continue reading. The story is good enough. Once I’m tired enough I put my book back. Then my light goes out. My bed is decent.
I toss and turn for a while. I’m tired, but in the blackness, my mind wanders. I remember all the things I did. I remember the pain I caused. The hurt I felt.
I don’t cry myself to sleep anymore. I’ve cried too much for that. Now I just pass out, exhausted. It’s a welcome relief from the pain of living. I wish I could just sleep, forever.
