LOVE WILL SAVE YOU

Today is that day again.

The day of colorful bouquets, nicely wrapped gifts, and laughable romantic poems. The day the young start to learn of the wonders that the old can only see in their fantasies and memories. The day of the strangest couples a pony could ever see together. The day when money and lies trade hooves thanks to the desires of the flesh. The day that has nothing to do with a "heart" or a "hoof."

Today is the day when dreams are supposed to come true.

But it's not just now. I see them every single day. Those couples who keep showing off their lust. All day long, they embrace each other, taste each other, and confess a great deal of nonsense to each other.

It makes me sick. In fact, "sick" isn't even the right word for it. I don't feel anything at all. That's the point: they make me feel hollow. Empty. I feel as though what they're doing is entirely disconnected from me. I've never done such things, and I'm certain I never will.

The fact that we have a holiday for this annoys me to no end. In fact, why should we restrict this little habit to just one day? Should love not be shared all day, every day of the year? That's why it doesn't make any sense. That's why it's just another whimsical thing in life that has no real meaning.

I don't waste my time with meaningless things. I'm a teacher, and good teachers set a good example. I can't just go and dive into something I don't believe in. How would anypony look up to me that way?

Then again, accidents are bound to happen. But how could I have seen it coming? At first, it looked like nothing more than an innocent meeting with a good friend. Then it turned out to be just a silly idea of some of my students. Neither of us expected what happened afterward.

I must say, he's a fine gentlecolt. He was so nice to me. He looked really good, too. A stallion of few words, strong and stoic. A calm and firm foundation for one to lean on when they are too weak to hold themselves up. What more could I ask for?

Despite myself, maybe I was tempted for a moment. It doesn't matter now. For all I know, there never was anything genuine between us. Potions have a way of stirring up your thoughts and your feelings.

To this day, I sometimes think back to it. All the insane things we went through on that fateful day. All the silly things we decided to do for a week after that. Maybe we just did it to amuse ourselves. Maybe we wanted to avoid embarrassing ourselves after that great show we put on. When you wake up from a dream and start to remember all the senseless things you did in it, you always try to justify them somehow.

Love cannot be forced. That much was clear to us. It was a good little charade while it lasted, but we both had to be honest with ourselves in the end. The little ones might have thought it was cute, but I won't be their clown any longer. It wouldn't be right to torture him with it, either. He deserves better than that.

He deserves better than me.

It was a harsh lesson, and I made sure to toughen my skin since then. Beneath the surface, however, I must admit that I do feel something. Whenever the clutter of everyday duties and worries are left behind, and I find myself alone with with my thoughts, it hits me again. That odd emptiness in my chest. If I try to hold it back, the sensation turns into pain. Like a black hole in my heart that eats away at the rest of me around it. I have no idea what else I could feed it to make it stop hurting me.

I walk down the empty hallways. My ears bathe in the echoes of my hoofsteps. I cringe and halt all of a sudden when I hear the noise of the children outside. They start reading poems to each other. I hear fillies giggling. I hear colts starting to weep.

I run away from all of it.

My hooves drag me through the town. I do my best not to let my gaze wander. All around me, I can hear the noises: chatter, giggling, chanting, music, and the sounds that feel the most painful to me.

"Why do their lips have to make a sound when they touch?"

I open my front door, enter, then lock it behind me. I close all the windows and the blinds as well. I don't want to know about anypony else today. The lights are all off. I let the darkness embrace me.

It feels good to feel nothing.

A small shard of light bleeds in through a gap in the curtains. It catches my eye as it lands on the shelf nearby. In the small patch of brightness, I notice the one picture I still have of him.

His flawless red coat flares in the sunlight. His eyes speak a blessed warmth. He's smiling at me. That calm, reassuring smile finds me again...

I reach out to knock that picture off the shelf. I don't want to see it. I don't want to remember.

My legs are shaking. My eyes hurt. I try to rub them, and my hooves come away with wet stains on them. I bite my tongue and turn away. I even close my eyes and hide myself in the darkest corner of my home, but the picture is still clear in my head.

I bury my face in the floor and cover my head with my forelegs. I try to plug my ears, but my sobs crawl into my mind either way. I want my eyes to dry out, but they just keep bleeding.

No, I'll never trot down that path again. No matter how powerful the experience was, it offered me no salvation. Others may go on and play their little games, but I'm not throwing myself into the fire any longer.

Love is not a "cure-all," no matter how many would like to believe that. It's just one more urge in our minds and bodies that we cannot control, only endure. Some even find a way to enjoy it. The pleasure allows them to blind themselves and take shelter from the truth.

Love is just another lie, not unlike the potion that forces you into it.

Author's Note

"Oh, I don't have a special somepony..."

...

This chapter is dedicated to my good friend (if I dare call myself that), who is none other than... er... um... "whatever-your-username-is-at-the-moment"

Bah... I'll try to track you down somehow and add a proper name here. Until then, may you rest in peace...