It Won't Be Long Before I'm Gone
Applejack
Applejack was confused. Perhaps not in the classical sense, but the thought of… it was still strange to her nonetheless. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her chin in thought as she scanned the room with half-lidded, tired eyes.
As long as there was something for her to do, she was happy. But what happened when she ran out of things to do? Was that what happened to Cousin Apple Bumpkin? Was that what drove her to…
She shuddered and tugged on the brim of her hat. Applejack couldn’t even bring her to think of it. Not without feeling like she was betraying Apple Bumpkin, by even so much as thinking of the very thing that took them away.
Applejack didn’t understand why a month ago, Apple Bumpkin was here, and then they weren’t. But she wanted to.
Which brought her here. The room was fairly dark, with other ponies shuffling about and lounging around in creaky folding chairs. There were some she recognized and some she didn’t. But Applejack knew that everyone here had their reasons. Hers was to learn, to understand something so strange and foreign to her.
A pony sat down next to her. Applejack gave them a quiet nod, not registering their face. She crossed her forehooves and sighed in deep thought.
She was here. Many other ponies weren’t.
She hoped that one day, she’d understand why.
Sweet Pepper
Sweet Pepper was anxious. Granted, she was always anxious, but today it was more than usual.
She frowned, pressing the stress ball Derpy had given her tightly in between her hooves, watching as the ball shrank down before slowly expanding again. She wished Derpy or Citrine were here. She wished she had brought her Daring Do helmet along, if for nothing else than to hide behind it.
But she hadn’t, and she’d have to deal with it.
Sweet Pepper set her ball aside, playing with her mane absently as she thought of her friends. Derpy and Citrine were worried about her: they had made that much clear through their actions and even more so with their words.
Which was why she was here today.
She swallowed nervously. She needed this, Sweet Pepper knew that much.
She absolutely could not afford to be alone right now. But was being in a room full of unfamiliar faces any better?
Sweet Pepper didn’t know. But she hoped so.
With a deep breath she tried to steady her heart rate, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a few breaths to steady herself. When she opened her eyes she felt a little bit better. Sweet Pepper knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but for a few scant seconds she was relaxed.
When they passed she went back to her stress ball and nervous thoughts, and waited desperately for something to happen.
Princess Luna
Luna was tired.
It was that strange time of day when she should have been sleeping, relaxing from her long night of dream walking and wandering. But this meeting was too important.
Celestia had found it odd at first that Luna had picked such a place, but once she had explained herself her sister agreed that a room in the Royal Palace may have caused more harm than help.
When Luna had returned her duties, she was slightly alarmed at what she saw. There seemed to be something dark lurking within the minds of many of their subjects, something that Luna wasn’t sure started in a dream but most definitely showed.
Suicide.
Nearly every pony had their own reasons for thinking, or at worst attempting it.
Luna was no exception.
Waking up after a thousand years to find that all her friends and peers were long gone and as distant as the stars in the sky had wrecked her. It had taken weeks and coaxing from Celestia to finally show herself in public again after the discovery.
And when she found that those dark thoughts which plagued her mind that night were not unique to her, she had asked for Celestia’s help in setting up a group.
The group was important: if not for her, then for those attending. Luna repeated this mantra to herself over and over again to flush her exhaustion from her body. She downed the last of her coffee and clapped her hooves together to announce the start of the meeting.
Looking around the room she saw a few new faces and a few old ones. What relieved her the most was that everyone who had come to the last meeting was here today.
And it was Luna’s duty to make sure they’d come to the next one as well.
Spitfire
Spitfire was angry.
She was angry at the medical report sitting on her desk. She was angry at Soarin for making her come here. She was angry at her body for failing her.
She leaned against the back wall, trying to snuff out the fire burning in her heart and eyes. It wasn’t their fault and she knew it, but that didn’t make her any happier.
Trying to distract herself, Spitfire looked around the room. She recognized a few faces and even saw one that she never expected to heading for the bathroom.
For a second she wavered and her ears drooped down, the anger morphing into despair.
Spitfire led a life of structure. Such was the norm for ponies in the Wonderbolts. Everything was on a schedule, and she would always know what was coming next.
But her body failing was not on anyone’s agenda. Especially not her own.
She was angry for a second before the gloom returned.
What was she without that structure? Who was she beyond the flight suit? What did she have at all once her time in the Wonderbolts was over?
But the biggest question of all was if she had a reason to stay once her duty was done.
Spitfire wasn’t scared of that thought. She wasn’t scared at the prospect of ending it, and not having to face the pity and the concern of her former teammates as she watched them carry on without her.
The internal struggle had kept her up for several nights. But she hadn’t once in a single imaginary conversation talked herself down.
Deep down, beneath her anger, Spitfire hoped that someone, anyone in this room could. Because she was running out of time, and in more ways than one.
Fiddlesticks
Fiddlesticks had attempted suicide.
But that was a long time ago. She was fine now. Miles better than she had been, at any rate.
She sat back in her chair, sipping from a paper cup of water. Lightning had excused herself to go to the bathroom, and had been gone for a few minutes. If she wasn’t back in a few more Fiddle would have to go get her.
In all honesty she was more concerned for Lightning than she was herself.
It had been years since she had really thought about ending her life. Years since she had actually tried to, by “falling” off the barn roof.
But she had survived, albeit with two broken forelegs that kept her from playing. And she had found purpose and life after that. Today she was thankful she hadn’t succeeded, but that thanks was a bit overshadowed by her worry for Lightning.
She glanced towards the back of the room, where the bathrooms were located and decided to wait a few more minutes.
Fiddle didn’t consider suicide to be taboo, or something that was strange to talk about. It was still a bit odd, and talking about the means she had tried was still very unpleasant.
But she knew she wasn’t close to trying again. She had put enough distance in between that horrible day that she could talk about it now, and being able to talk about it meant being able to help.
That was why she was here today. To help Lightning and whoever else would need it. It wouldn’t be easy, as their reasons weren’t exactly the same as her own, but if Fiddle didn’t try…
The bathroom door opened and Lightning rejoined her. Fiddle squeezed her in a quick hug as Luna clapped her hooves together.
Lightning Dust
Lightning Dust looked in the mirror and her reflection had two wings.
She knew this was impossible: her right wing had been amputated years ago.
With a quiet sigh she splashed some water onto her face, hoping that the tingling at her side would fade away. It only intensified, and she let out a groan.
Looking in the mirror at the worn-out, haggard mare made Lightning sad. She was glad that she had met Fiddle: without her she wouldn’t have any reason to be alive. Not when she had lost the Wonderbolts, then the Washouts, then flying all together.
Now all she was good for was paperwork and chewing out the lazy workers of the weather office.
Fiddle deserved better than her.
Lightning spread her good wing. The muscle had long since atrophied from lack of use, and even if she had a prosthetic installed now the imbalance would probably take years of therapy to restore.
Not that she wanted, or even deserved one.
Lightning Dust had been given too many second chances, and she had squandered every single one of them.
She chewed her lip. Fiddle had asked her some nights ago about her mental health. Words were exchanged, and ultimately Lightning had to admit she didn’t know. Some days were fine. Some weren’t.
And so Fiddle had offered to take her here, and Lightning agreed.
Because not knowing how she was feeling scared her more than knowing.
Lightning straightened herself up and refolded her wing, shutting off the sink and trotting out the door. She made her way back down to the floor, trying to pretend she didn’t see the orange mare glaring at her from the back.
Lightning sat back down next to Fiddle and Fiddle hugged her tightly. It made her feel a little bit better.
Sweetie Belle
Sweetie Belle was scared.
She hadn’t slept well at all last night. The memories and the faces of a pony no longer present still haunted her.
The university had understood the best it could and her professors were thankfully sympathetic. It was funny, in a twisted sort of way. She had been eager to move out from Rarity’s boutique and into her own dorm, but now here she was. Back in her sister’s home.
Sweetie hadn’t cried. She felt like she should have, but she hadn’t. Not when campus police had arrived, summoned by her screams, nor at the funeral while Rarity hugged her tight, nor in her talks with the university counselor.
She wanted to.
But she couldn’t.
Her roommate was so smart and so funny, charming and loved by everyone. How was anyone supposed to know what they were going through?
There were signs. Sweetie should have noticed them. There were little things, tiny scenes that she had ignored. Sweetie could have saved her if she had.
Instead she had entered her room to find her roommate, one of her best friends, han--
Sweetie squeezed her eyes shut as her breath hitched. She felt sick.
She wanted to stand up and leave. She wanted to be anything but here. But as she opened her eyes she saw Luna standing in front of her.
Luna said nothing, but her eyes were warm and comforting. She didn’t ask and Sweetie didn’t reply.
Sweetie didn’t smile but Luna didn’t ask for one. Luna drifted over to her seat and clapped her hooves together.
Sweetie hoped she’d be okay.
Autumn Blaze
Autumn Blaze was quiet. This was unusual for her, and as much as she wanted to eagerly flit about the room and chat with all the ponies there, she knew that this was neither the time nor place for it.
Applejack, sitting next to her, was quiet in thought. She was surprised to see Autumn there, almost as surprised as Autumn herself.
Autumn promised to explain later and Applejack had accepted that.
So now, Autumn sat in relative silence, trying to piece together how she’d explain to her dear friend.
The reality was that years in isolation, living alone without friends or family were ugly. Autumn had presented it in a silly sort of way, with tales of puppets and story writing to bide her time, but the truth was left out in her early explanations.
Her early works were locked away and she hadn’t the strength to look at them. Because they were dark tales, tales of a kirin dying in a million different ways as they screamed into a void of nothing.
Autumn Blaze almost didn’t survive.
Her smile wavered. She hadn’t talked about her time alone to anyone, except for Rain Shine, and she kept most of her thoughts locked away in a small box within her mind.
But Rain Shine was worried, and told her of Princess Luna’s program.
Autumn said that she didn’t need it, but inside she rejoiced.
Because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the box closed. And if it ever opened one day… she wasn’t sure if she’d survive it.
A mare across from her, a one-winged pegasus, stood up. Their chair scraped against the wooden floor, and they quietly excused themselves to the bathroom.
Autumn Blaze shifted in her own seat. She was restless, but she knew that she had to be patient.
So she waited for something to happen.
Starlight Glimmer
Starlight Glimmer had made a mistake.
Well, she had made many mistakes in her life. But the one she had made last night was significant.
Starlight grimaced, rubbing the base of her horn. Every mistake she had made was significant. But last night…
Last night was bad.
Starlight fidgeted nervously in her seat, looking around the room. She felt as if she would explode, and her heart would pop and her mind grind to a halt.
She sighed, getting up and pacing in a small circle.
Trixie was her friend. Starlight had no reason to treat her the way she did last night.
Now, she felt awful. Horrible, horrible thoughts that she thought she’d buried had resurfaced again, more intense and strong than ever.
Luckily Starlight had enough lucidity left in her to cancel her day plans and go straight to Luna’s program. Long talks with Twilight in the past had opened her eyes to resources, and it was days like these where Starlight was infinitely thankful she was friends with Twilight.
The scientist in Starlight noted a few anomalies in the room, in particular the presence of Sweetie Belle who was quite younger than everyone else. If last night hadn't happened, Starlight would probably approach her, putting on her guidance counselor persona and try to offer what little support she could.
But the guidance counselor part of her brain didn’t exist today. All she had was a burning worry and a deafening anxiety, with dark grim thoughts stabbing at her from the dark.
She looked away as Luna approached Sweetie and sighed, impatiently waiting for the meeting to start.
Wallflower Blush
Wallflower was fine.
She wasn’t great but on the other hand she wasn’t terrible.
It had taken a few days for her to adjust to life as a quadruped pony, but Sunset and Princess Twilight had been kind and patient enough to guide her through it.
Ultimately, she still wasn’t confident in their decision. But it felt… nice that they cared.
Wallflower looked around the room. Unfortunately there were no plants for her to analyze, only folding chairs and tables. She sighed, trying to put her hands in her pockets only to remember she had neither hands nor pockets.
What was she meant to do with her hooves?
Wallflower looked up at the ceiling. Sunset had been mortified when she finally got the truth out of Wallflower, and had dedicated herself to helping Wallflower get better.
But even the phrase ‘get better’ was a strange one. Because Wallflower was better, but for how long? What would happen that would send her back into a spiral? How long before life started dropping inconveniences and embarrassment in a large enough volume to undo her work?
Wallflower didn’t know, but Princess Twilight had insisted that she at least try to attend Luna’s program. She had spoken with Luna briefly, still struggling to not picture the Princess as her stuffy vice-principal.
Luna had acknowledged that depression isn't something that really went away. She had compared it to something called the Tantabus, calling it something that was shapeless and horrifyingly real, and something that couldn't necessarily be erased or defeated.
Wallflower liked that comparison.
She glanced across from here, where a burgundy pegasus was anxiously squeezing a stress ball.
Wallflower didn’t know if she could really ‘get better,’ but for now she felt okay. Maybe she’d feel better after this.
Luna clapped her hooves and the meeting began.