Some Things Just Don't Belong
Author's Note: Before you continue, please take into consideration that this is NOT a self-insert. The character in this story is completely fictional and does not share my personality in the slightest. Thank you.
If there is a God up there, he's crying. If there's a Devil out there, he's laughing. Villainy and scum have become so accepted by society that a foreigner to our planet might think that everything is in order; after all, the long-term dominating force is always the good guy, right? The darkness and evil will always face its inevitable fate against the knights in shining armor who use their righteous blades to defend justice and helpless old ladies at all costs, right? Yeah. We wish. We wish so hard for that kind of justice that we spend half of or lives thinking it exists. We wish so hard for that kind of utopia that we write it, draw it, direct it, publish it and mass-produce it for the people who wish they could wish hard enough to imagine it. And you would think that with the whole world wanting and striving for the same fairy-tale world, we would be capable of achieving it. But, no. We had to be human. We had to want power and we had to be lazy. We could have had the work force of 6.2 billion people, but instead we chose to pit everyone against each other in the most massive toddler-style fight in history. I don't care if we're God's children or descendants of apes, we are all the same people, the most advanced race on the planet, and we act like the very animals we swear up and down we have no affiliation with. We're hypocritical, simple-minded savages.
Ok, hold up, sorry, let me take a breath. Ok. Why am I here again? Oh right. I'm up here on a bridge, taking in the orange skyline and trying to ignore the fact that such beauty is the result of a massive cloud of smog... because of a simple little tv show. Albeit a little girls' show and my absurd liking for it, a simple tv show is the cause for all of this melodramatic teenage angst-filled temper tantrum. People look at bronies and think "why can't they be normal like the rest of the world?"
I look at them and think "why can't they be awesome like Pinkie Pie?"
Hm. Pinkie Pie. My favorite pony. So full of warmth, happiness and just the perfect amount of random spontaneity that makes me wonder why not everyone falls in love with her the instant they see her. Maybe it's because she's a cartoon character, and they're just too close-minded to enjoy simple things in life. Or, maybe I'm too immature to take into consideration the fact that the show I love so much is just a media franchise and the adorable little voice that I live to hear coming from that bouncy pink pony is just Andrea Libman trying to make some cash. But in a world where everything relates to money now anyways, is that such a crime?
Well, Pinkie, is it? Oh fine, don't answer me. Just stay frozen in that hyperactive position like you have been since I printed you out just a half an hour ago. I like the way you look right now anyway, as I hold you in front of the sun, letting the burning orange light seep through the paper and set your bubblegum mane on fire. You'd still look a lot better in 3-D though, and a little less, well, picture-y. You know what I mean. You know everything, don't you, Pinks?
God, now I'm talking to a picture. I thought this hormonal thing was for girls. Well, I do watch a girls' show. Maybe it's a side-effect. Ugh, why do I even need a Pinkie Pie picture? Where did I plan on putting this? I'm so far into the brony closet, I'm finding Hearth's Warming Eve's presents! I've never met another brony in person, and I wouldn't dream of telling anyone about it. Of course, now I don't have a choice. The brony closet door was violently ripped off its hinges just thirty minutes ago, actually.
You see, in my house we have one computer. It's like sharing a bathroom; among a whole family there's just one portal to locking everyone out of your life temporarily. In my case, our computer is my escape from reality and connection to the magical land of Equestria. Or, yugioh, but that's besides the point. Anyway, the people I'm forced to share the computer and house with consist of my dad and two older brothers. Now imagine three manticores kicking Bambii in the stomach. That's my childhood. I've always been the misunderstood runt of the litter, and mom's death giving birth to me doesn't exactly help my situation. Bullying runs deep in the family, and I've lived my life as the hatred and bullying sponge.
So imagine the reaction of my two brothers as they come home from school laughing and punching each other and then freeze the instant they see a bright pink pony on their computer screen in front of their little brother. My whole world came crumbling down at that moment, my heart skipped five and a half beats and I felt like dying right then and there. I did the only thing I could think to do: I ran. I ran far away, not stopping until my brain finally decided to start functioning without adrenaline. It was then that I realized that I had brought the Pinkie Pie picture with me.
And so here I am, leaning on a bridge railing and looking contemplatively at a picture of a pony, probably scaring a few passers by. A brony in a nutshell. Where do I go from here? Where can I go from here?
Obviously, I have nowhere to turn but homeward. I just like pretending my options are a bit more open, but I guess my fate is inevitable; I have to go back. I have to face the endless taunts and teases that come with doing and being what you love. I just wish Pinkie Pie could be here on my side, reminding me to giggle at the ghostie and whatnot as I head towards my doom.
Was that a gunshot? I hear them so often they sometimes slip my attention. The world is a garbage can because of us. We do nothing with our almighty brainpower except come up with ways to kill our own kind. Come to think of it, why would I want Pinkie here with me now anyway? Witnessing all the crime and dirt that goes on around here, her innocence being shredded to bits. No, if anything, I want Pinkie to stay right here in this picture where nothing can hurt her, nothing can scar her pretty little head. She doesn't belong here, she belongs where it's safe, in my mind, in Equestria, under a rainbow, as long as it's not here. As long as she can't hear any of the hatred being spit at her, I'm happy.
Printing you out into the real world was a mistake, Pinkie Pie, and I'm not going to make the mistake of trying to bring you to reality ever again. You won't even be making the journey back to my house with me. No, you deserve better. Fly out of my hand, Pinkie, off the side of the bridge and into the river below, where man can't harm you and words can't touch you. Be what you once were- a figment of my imagination and float back to the realm that humans wish could be.
The first steps of my homeward journey are tough; it feels like my feet have been sinking into the hot cement. But in the back of my head I hear a music and feel a bouncing, and suddenly it's like a hundred balloons lifting me off the ground. I may be about to experience the bullying of my life, but that's just the price you pay for protecting what you love. Because that's what we bronies are, the responsible keepers of the knowledge of a mystical land that the average person can only dream of. We know happiness, true happiness, inside and out, and as long as we keep it safe, hidden where it belongs, we're winning the fight. And the fight has only just begun.