The Host of Insanity

“Good work everybody, now once you change into your street clothes, and wash off that makeup, we can go to the after party!” Said my mentor as I looked at her like I would my own mother.

“YEAH!” A chorus of guys sounded, while the girls just rolled their eyes at them and went to get changed.

I walk somberly back to the changing room, not wanting to stop the other ponies- STUDENTS! They are students!- from their cheers.

Gah! There I go again! Thinking that I’m in Equestria. The place where there are no worries, a place where you can be anypony you want, and do whatever you want. Oh how I want to go there...

As I walked through the halls of the unfamiliar middle school, I ignored the compliments made at my performance. I was the only one that had made it back to the dressing room, the other guys got distracted by either their families or praise from the audience. I quickly changed out of my costume, consisting of, brown pants, black shoes, black overshirt, white undershirt, and a black cloak with matching top hat. Upon undressing, I quickly went to my bag that contained my street clothes, and threw them on as fast as possible, not caring if the carefully placed makeup was smeared onto my shirt. I had to leave, and fast. I had to get away from this crowd of people that brought me to a reality that I didn't want to be a part of, I just wanted to go away, to go back into my padded cell and work on my stories for the rest of eternity.

My padded cell...my home...

I look at my wrists, seeing the many scars upon them, some fresher than others, but always in the same area, with the same intention. I washed my face in a nearby bathroom, ridding myself of the accursed colored polymers and chemicals cascading across my naturally tan complexion. I looked at myself in the mirror.

I hate you!

I thought angrily at my reflection. I had come to this conclusion after years of sitting in front of the mirror, wondering why I was getting so mad as I looked on. Then my reflection did what it normally does, it smiled, the unholiest of smiles, it's eyes darkened into black orbs, irises becoming lost in the blackness, and it replied.

Oh how nice it is to see you too! By the way, nice performance. You pulled off the abusive pimp quite well.

It taunted, silently daring me to do something. I ignored it, acting as calm as I could. That was the one thing that kept me sane enough to be around people, acting. It was the only thing I was good at, besides writing that is. If the people around me were happy, I acted happy, if people around me were sad, I acted sad. I was a cameleon, not showing how I really felt, not even in private, for fear of egging on my reflection. I walked away, my reflection yelling after me.

You know thats who you really are! You know thats how you really feel! You-

The yelling was interrupted by shouting from just outside the door. I steeled myself for what would certainly be an encounter with people.

“Hey Jimmy!” Said the closest boy as the group rushed through the door.

I visibly flinched at the use of my horribly placed nickname. One that my gym teacher gave me when he couldn’t for the life of him pronounce my real name.

“H-hi, um sorry to leave on such short notice...but uh I have to go home now...” I replied, pushing past the group.

I shuffled to the doors leading to a safe and hopefully uneventful escape. I wasn’t that lucky. I bumped into one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen, the one playing the slave I had beaten the tar out of on stage.

“Oh hey RD!” She said.

I flinched again, this nickname being more accurate but more painful than the last one. It reminded me of the world I have so desperately tried to go to for years now.

“My name is not RD. It's Richard Darren, and you can call me Rick or Rich.” I replied, suppressing my frustration.

“Whoa, ok Mr. Richard Darren! No need to get upset!” She said, holding her forehooves- HANDS! Hands- up in mock surrender.

Feeling myself start to slip, I ran past her without another word, and went out the door, to the familiar black van in the parking lot, leaping over rails and dodging people and objects with impressive agility. I entered the van, dodging the questions fired at me by the driver, a Rachel Darren my supposed mother, by hiding under the veil of my insanity.

I stared out the window, not at the scenery, but into my imagination. I see Rainbow Dash flying high, helicopter turtle in tow. Applejack, once again saving the town of Ponyville from a stampede, with her dog Winona. I see Fluttershy, being polite to every animal in the forest, yet shying away from others of her kind. Twilight researching some kind of new spell, her new wings twitching in anticipation, her pet owl watching on from a distance while Spike organized her most recent mess. I saw Rarity, constantly adjusting the fabrics on her dress. Lastly, I saw Pinkie Pie looking at a mirror to see an image of herself that wasn’t her. It was me. She was looking into my eyes with the same intensity that I looked into my own. Suddenly I turned into the infamous Pinkamena Pie, one of the most feared ponies in all of Equestria. Pinkamena looked alot like my reflection, evil and scary, but Pinkie wasn’t letting her reflection get the best of her, she turned and trotted back to the stairs, leaving just me and the reflection.

I sighed and mumbled under my breath, “Good job Pinkie...”

“Huh?” Asked the driver.

“Hmmm...” I replied, using my familiar tone of, I wasn’t talking to you.

“Oh...but we are here.” She continued.

“Thank you. I shall now go back to my computer.” I said stiffly.

“Oh...ok...” She said, obviously sad at the fact that I would rather shy away from humanity than embrace it.

I walked into the stark white building, and checked back into my room through Mr. Doorman at the front. I was greeted by the dull blue gate next to the front desk opening with a loud grinding sound. I thanked him and walked by, ignoring the rantings and pleadings of my fellow inmates. I walked through the life-sucking hallway, the fluorescent lights draining the will of all who were unlucky enough to get blanketed in it's unnatural glow, until I reached the cell numbered forty-two. This door was a deep blue, until the light of the hallway graced it, then it became a dull,  nearly-grey, blue like the bars of the many gates leading to the different levels of insanity.

I was in the third level of insanity, The Dabblers, as I called it. We in this wing of the hospital dabbled in the art of insanity, from the lowest level to the highest it went, Greens, Testers, Dabblers, Experimenters, and Masters. The inmates in each of the levels had various ‘illnesses’, I prefered to call them abilities, for as each was undoubtedly insane, each was gifted in a certain thing, their skill in that thing could not be surpassed unless it was also the gift of a higher up. My ability, was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, or acting as it were. This could be onstage or on paper or in conversations. This allowed me to make many ‘friends’, though they never really were. They never knew who I really was, how I really felt. Thats why I have come to accept this place as my home.

I entered the room to experience the familiarity of it. The subtle hum of the computer’s fan, combined with the whirring of the ceiling fan and the low rumble of the air conditioner made the perfect symphony of concentration needed to write my stories. The soft orange glow of the lamp on the dark mahogany desk, combined with the alien beams of light that came from cracks in the door’s old seal, made the perfect illumination required to properly see the letters on the keyboard of the old, grey MacBook Pro that housed my most treasured stories. Anything that wasn’t impressive, was immediately thrown out, no matter how hard I worked on it. That is how I worked, slowly and efficiently, anything not good was trashed, not just for stories, but for anything. From relationships, to food.

I walked towards the black leather swivel chair, thinking about how I was going to start my new chapter, when the door shut loudly behind me. I jumped and whirled around to see a faint yellow glow around the seal, it slowly spread to the creases in the padding of the walls around me. Remaining calm, I turned back to my computer and sat in the overly comfortable chair, instantly feeling exhausted from the play I was just in. I heard a soothing and relaxing voice in my head, urging me to relax and fall asleep.

I recognized it instantly as the voice of none other than Princess Celestia. The only pony powerful enough to bring me to the land of my dreams. Realizing what I had to do, I packed up the few books I had about humans from the small bookshelf built into my desk, as well as my computer, and my portable internet. As a last thought, I grabbed my iPod and set my favorite song on repeat. Then with everything I needed, I lay down upon the now glowing chair and closed my eyes and went to sleep, not caring where I would be when I woke up, not even caring who I would be when I woke up. Just knowing that my life would be a clean slate, my decisions would be the paintbrush and my emotions would be the paint, all to the painting of my adventures in Equestria.