supre awesome existential trip up a mountain!

Outside of coffee, your job, or even your family and friends, one of the more subliminal reasons we get up each morning, one dry-eyed day to the next, is the fact that we can. We possess the ability to wake ourselves up, no matter how bleak the world we're waking up to may be. We ponies were born with the ability to speak, therefore we talk. We were also born with the ability to see and hear; therefore we take in as many sights and sounds as we possibly can. Nopony tells us we have to experience these things, we do so because it feels right We live each day out because we can. We want to show life that we as a species not only live each moment, but that we dominate them. We go outside and take life by the horns, proving once and for all that we are unique.

With each passing moment, the strokes of my brush layered the parchment again and again. Some lighting here, a little shading there, and all atop a light sprinkling of personal zest. The enveloping swoon of the storm clouds, the bellowing winds accompanied by the high altitude, the galvanizing force of authority clasped within each radiant bolt of lightning...All of these marvels bound together by a no more than a brush and some paper.

Everything is tied together. It matters little whether they like, or even know it.

Resting the sheets of parchment on my lap, I prepare myself for the second wave of artistry. I promised myself that this last work would be perfect no matter what, and I intended to keep this promise. I vowed…

However, a frail mutter rang out in the darkest depths of my mind, eating away at my thoughts. The subconscious vocalization of my own voice swatted at my inner serenity, and worst of all, I couldn't do anything to stop it.

"Stop making promises," My inner whisper commanded. "We both know what happens when you can't follow through...

The reserved articulations were swirling about my head, plaguing me like a storm to a countryside. No matter how hard I might concentrate, the vicious tirade of self-doubt was overwhelming. I felt like a fool to be broken by myself so easily, and I threw my brush into a snow cap out of anger. Why must ponykind be so open-minded? Why are we cursed with having second opinions? Couldn’t we just pick a path and enjoy it?

The despairing truth of the matter is that no matter how hard we try to tell ourselves that life’s one big straight line, there's always that little voice prepared to tell us otherwise.

It choked me before, so who was to say it wouldn't choke me now?

Nevertheless, I worked on.

Ink, brush, parchment, repeat. The sacred cycle of creativity. Never ending, never resting.

"Stop now, Scoot. There's no point anymore. You've paid your dues..." Whispered the voice, the inner vocalization reverberating through my mind like an echo in a cave. "You don’t need to act like you rule the world any longer."

The lightning whipped around me as my quill graced the parchment. Winds whistled the song of their people, the thunder rolled like iron scraping pavement, and the clouds cried out in fear as the very heavens shrieked wildly in their face. Raindrops began to fall, so I retrieved a small umbrella I was fortunate enough to have packed. Propping it up in a nearby snow cap, the small parasol protects my artwork similarly to a mother and her son. Meanwhile, I alone am left to whether the inclement conditions presented by Mother Nature, forced to bare the beauteous wrath that comes with every storm.

Thankfully, my final masterpiece has almost come to fruition. With each passing second, I get closer and closer to discovering the life beneath the ink: Its timeless beauty, everlasting in the minds of those who gaze upon it. Deep in my bones, I know that this decision is right. I'm the master of my universe, and if I think this is the right choice, who's to say otherwise? I woke up today, and I'm going to live today.....Even if it kills me.

"You're making a fool out of yourself, Scootaloo. Just like you always do." The voice once again stated, abruptly interjecting itself into my mind. "You're damn stupid if you think doing this is going to give you closure, and even stupider if you think it'll make me respect you anymore.” The voice spoke tensely, choking out the words like a lifelong lover to his bride-to-be. "But hey, don't let me get in your way. After all, you never cared about my opinions anyway. Look at you now! Standing on the edge of destiny, painting nothing more than the gallows that has haunted you since the day you were born! You'd have to be mad to expect today to have a happy ending! Do you understand?! This only ends one way!"

I pressed my pen too hard against the parchment, snapping the frail tip of my quill loose. A solitary roll later and it was flying off into the vicious winds that carry both the angels and demons around our world. "You don't understand! I've tried everything in an attempt to put the pieces together! I'd follow you into the pools of oblivion if it meant finding even the most miniscule amount of self-satisfaction!" I shout to the sky, furrowing my brow.

"Too little, too late, friend. I know better than anypony how insecure you are. Always have been. Look at us now; The zenith of the world, and you're ready to leap into the fires of Tartarus and fall to pieces rather than face the world. You try to sound like a paragon of ponykind, yet we both know you're not. You can't squeeze blood from a stone, kid..." The voice said somberly. "...And you're drier than a pretzel."

My voice, no matter how loud or conscious, was wrong; I wasn’t going to be talked down to today.

I packed my saddlebags and sheathed my one remaining brush. The painting of my life was left unfinished, cursed to be trapped in the purgatory where all unrealized ideas float. One hoof-fall after the other, I approached the edge of not only the mountain...but my very existence. The air tasted of electricity and finalization.

"And just what do you think you're doing now? Don't tell me you're going to jump. I've seen more courage in a raincloud than you! You know this, right? You know you're nothing. Nothing but a waste. A poor, poor little waste. You have so much potential, yet you fail to realize it. You could not only paint mountains, but move them! You could shape the world into your own image if you wanted! But do you?! No! You sit here, contemplating the nothings in life! You try to solve life’s great riddles for what!? Self-satisfaction? Peace of mind? A solitary thought that you could touch the waters of serenity one more time? I only ask why you bother setting yourself so far back on the nothings when you could be channeling it into something that can turn the world into a better place?!"

I shake my head, counting the steps towards the cliff's end. Finally reaching her peak, I look down in wonder at the clouds below. The blood-red cumulus typhoon no longer swirled like a vicious maelstrom, but instead presented itself like a bed ready to whisk you into a dream. It's almost relaxing.

"I can see you've lost the ability to be reasoned with. Ironic, since a poet much like yourself can't seem to get the fact that the only thing that keeps your ideas afloat is reason. It’s almost a pity that you refuse to see that. The menagerie of life only blooms once, kiddo, and you're ready to shut out the sun as if it were going out of style."

I sighed slightly, pausing yet again at the words of my inner voice. She had the reasoning of a scholar, yet the crassness of a sailor. I hated it. "You know what? Maybe I don't like where my life's ended up. Maybe I don't particularly enjoy the flowers you describe so vividly. So what? Nopony ever said we had to love everything on the Earth." I spoke, arguing against the only force who I know could match myself. Hooves in the snow now, I closed my eyes hard, only to reopen them and see the shadow of another pony merely yards away. "So this is it then. I've finally snapped, haven't I?" I said aloud. The figure merely hovered just out of sight, neither moving nor speaking.

"Looks like you've lost it, haven't you? I suppose it was predictable, seeing as you're bickering with, out of everypony to ever grace our fair kingdom, yourself. It was only a matter of time..."

I mentally slapped myself. "Maybe if you weren't so intent on holding my progress back, I'd be able to get out of this hell we've dug! You call me lazy and a fool, yet you are content to live with me. I never wanted your company, nor do I want it now! The thing that puzzles me most is the reasoning behind why you stay here, in my head, so, so many years after I'd given up. You've never helped me in the slightest, yet you claim you're my salvation! You're nothing to me! If anything, you're just another bloody chapter in my existence! I’ve come too far to be put down by a hollow nothing!"

My inner voice was silent.

"What? Can't handle the truth? I never suspected you would." I said coldly, now sitting down. My eyes felt watery, my throat was stiff, and my legs were all but stable. Was this what I had become? A hollow shell of my former self? I'm at my own throat and even still I refuse...I refuse...I...don't know. I’m confused, anxious, nervous, regretful and happy all at the same time. The feeling was new. It was a strange feeling of contentment and sorrow, blending together like coals and fire. I felt alone, yet not alone. I felt...weird.

Leaning back, I fully extended my body and fell into the snow; Head, chest, legs and all. Fully engulfed by the chilling grasp of the mountain, I closed my eyes and exhaled. This was it, I could feel it. The time had finally come. No more did I have to put up a false front. I thought...and thought...and thought. I continued to think about nothing, yet that same nothing was the one thing nagging at me. The inner demons I'd dealt with so feverishly over my long time on this earth had left me like a spirit leaves the body. It felt superfluous, yet I couldn't help but be slighted at the thought of being alone. It was too quick. I shot my eyes open in a heartbeat, hurling myself to my hooves out of confusion...only to be stunned at the sight of a mare.