Jan 1
A brand new year! Hahaha, everypony in my neighbourhood is walking around with their faces all sagging with hangovers and I'm leaning out my window yelling "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" as loud as I can because fuck em, that's why! That's what they get for circulating that petition saying they didn't want "that kind" of housing project in their backyards. Kill em with kindness, hahaha!
I did drink last night, even though I'm not technically supposed to. Not blackout drunk but, heh, I did get a little tipsy. Mrs Oathenberry came over with a bottle of "champagne" (it was sparkling wine, but I didn't let her know I could tell the difference) for me. She feels sorry for me, I think. That's okay---it's better than being scared like a lot of my neighbours. To think she was the one who started that petition! She felt so bad once she got to know me and found out I wasn't some sensationalized knife-wielding maniac like in the movies... which, in some ways, is too bad because I have to admit those movies are a lot of fun.
Of course horror movies are a lot different now than when I was a teenager. Oh Celestia, does that make me sound old! I remember sneaking Buttercup into the theatre when she was underage and making her watch that one where the disfigured colt drowned in a lake. She's never forgiven me for that!!! I still watch scary movies to this day. She says she doesn't understand how I can watch somepony being slashed open and laugh. "You have nerves of steel", she says. How many times do I have to tell her? After what I've been through, nothing shocks me anymore. Movies are just special effects makeup and dyed corn syrup. Maybe some unicorn magic, I don't know. They're not real.
What I've been through was real and that's why it was fucking scary.
Once, during one of my many hospital stays, an orderly heard us talking about it and she said "Wait til you start a family! Nothing is scarier than having foals." Buttercup shouldn't have yelled at her for that. The orderly didn't know about me. She hadn't read my file.
Oh! Before I forget. Time to make the same resolutions I make every year!
1) Lose fifty pounds
2) Finish all my woodworking commissions from December
3) Eat healthily (see #1)
4) Start calling ponies by their real names, not the nicknames I gave them
5) STOP SMOKING
Let's see how long they last this time around. I'm giving it a week.
Jan 3
Decided to treat myself to a matinee, because I heard they were showing an old classic. A favourite of mine. I must have seen it a hundred times when it first came out... but this time, during the famous scene where the evil stallion's being burned alive, I just looked up at the smoke and all I could think about was lighting one up. Is that bad???
I need a date, dammit. I'm sick of going to the movies alone.
Jan 6
Day five of Not Smoking. Cold fucking turkey, baby! I stared at that pack of cigs for twenty minutes straight and I swear it was starting to call my name. Thank Celestia Pinkie showed up with a box of cookies! I really shouldn't have resolved to lose weight AND quit smoking at the same time, because now whenever I want a cig I have a frigging jelly-bean cookie instead.
There's two left. My lungs, if not my pancreas, will thank me.
{later}
I broke down and cracked open a pack of smokes, and guess what I found inside? Pinkie had drawn a little picture of my lungs with smiley faces on them and a dialogue bubble saying "Thanks for not hurting us!" HOW DID SHE SNEAK THAT IN THERE?!
Jan 12
"Keeping a diary is a very good exercise". Thanks, Doc, I'll have to remember that. Why, this year I've written three journal entries and already I feel ever so healthy!!!
Dammit, I shouldn't write when I'm cranky. Still haven't smoked. The two packs I have lying around are going to go stale.... it's like throwing good bits away... ~~shouldn't let them go to waste~~
No! That's exactly how you slipped up the last seven times, remember?! This time it's going to be different. I'll quit for good. Huh. Maybe keeping a "diary" is good for me. Or maybe this new doc is just talking out of his ass like all the rest of 'em.
Instead of doodling in the margins here I really should get back to work.
No. I'm still too cranky to work. Celestia knows I shouldn't be fiddling with sharp objects when I'm in this kind of mood; I have enough scars already.
I put Pinkie's little picture up on the fridge. For some stupid reason, it makes me smile.
Jan 14
Could barely sleep last night then dreamed of smoking when I did thought about it all this morning I'm eating nonstop then when I ran out of food had to get groceries and some smug fuck was standing outside sucking one back he'd {indecipherable}
Jan 15
Broke down and chain-smoked three in a row. Oh well, at least I made it a fortnight this time. That's a new record.
Wonder if the patch will interfere with my meds??
Jan 20
Gods did it ever. The diarrhea's finally stopped.
Feb 1
Got 300 bits for a piece I finished, YAY! Client said he loved it, and he wants to be a repeat customer! That's good news, even if he is hard to work with.
I took Buttercup and her kids out for lunch to celebrate. As usual she made a grab for the bill, but luckily the colt (I can never remember their names!!! I'm such a bad auntie! I mean I know what their names are but not which one's which) threw a bowl of porridge at his sister and I paid while she was distracted. Score one for the home team!
We both ordered a fruit plate with cottage cheese for "dessert" and then laughed about how we were perpetually on diets---as if that could erase the Big Butt family curse. It's so nice we can talk like sisters again. I can't believe it's been, what, twenty years since that fight? And now we talk and laugh and gossip like nothing's ever happened.
But I still feel that pang every time I see her. She's married with kids and runs a successful business---my LITTLE sister!---whereas I'm a spinster in my forties, living alone in a subsidized apartment. All I need to do is start taking in dozens of stray cats and I'll be a stereotype trifecta.
She says she's proud of me for how well I'm doing. That used to sound patronizing coming from her, but now I know she's sincere. I have improved so much lately... I have to keep reminding myself it's no one's fault I was so sick for so long. I haven't gone off my meds for six months, and haven't had a manic binge in eleven. Dammit now I'm getting all teary. See??? That's why I get choked up when I see her, because I can't help but think of all the times my illness has hurt her, hurt my family. I think of all the sleepless nights they must have had, staring at the clock and wondering where I was while I was busy having sleepless nights of an entirely different sort.
I do miss those nights, sometimes.
But hopefully they're all behind me, and I can go on living a life that's blessedly mundane. Wake up, eat, smoke, do my woodcraft, clean my little apartment, smoke some more, visit my family and friends, take my meds, go to bed. Now that I'm getting proper treatment, things have become as normal as they'll get for somepony like me.
Hahaha, maybe at this rate I'll die of lung cancer like a regular pony instead of bleeding out in the bathtub!
Feb 4
UGH what a day.
Okay, that's it. From now on I'm not letting the Doc read this journal. First, he keeps calling it a "diary". GIGGLY LITTLE TEENAGE FILLIES HAVE "DIARIES"! I'm a grown-ass mare and I have the love handles to prove it!!!
But I digress.
Second---He didn't like the last entry, and made me go over every. Freaking. Line. "What were you feeling when you wrote this part?" "Mm-hmm, and what thought process was behind this?" Oh, Celestia, make him shut up! He thought the suicide joke was in poor taste. I told him, as politely as I could muster given how irritated I was at the time, that if I didn't laugh about it, I'd cry. Well, that started a whole 'nother round of questions. No, I'm not suicidal. Haven't been for ages. Why is that so hard for him to understand???
Oh, and get this. He asked me why I have trouble remembering my niece and nephew's names. Come on! He knows about my Bipolar Brainfuzz (or 'dissociative amnesia' as he calls it). I've done some research on it, even---it's pretty common for ponies with mood disorders to have disruptions in the area of the brain responsible for memory formation, especially in the short-term. That's why I can still recite my favourite fillyhood songs, but can't remember if I need milk when I get to the grocery store.
It's an often-observed, well-documented ~~phenomin~~ ~~phanomin~~ phenomenon. He knows this. I know this. He knows I know he knows this. So why do we have to go over it every visit?? So I'm a little forgetful---so what? It's not like I have a foal to take care of or anything. Never had, never will.
No... almost had, never will. Whatever.
Oh man I'm so tired. I'm glad I have have those Canternese leftovers cause I'm so not up for cooking right now.
Feb 6
WOW!!! Talk about a fantastic day! I actually got to eat dinner with one of the EoH!!
I had some bits leftover from my commission work, so I went out to buy some more wood. My usual seller told me that the Apple family was trying getting rid of some old diseased trees so of course I ran on over there as fast as my fat little legs would carry me. And I hit the jackpot!
Hahaha, maybe that's a bad choice of words considering how long I spent with Applejack. Anyway, she was really surprised that I was willing to spend my hard-earned bits on "junk wood", and she just gave it to me! I didn't have to spend a penny!
She invited me to stay for supper, and once I saw what they had on the table, I couldn't say no. Now, anypony who sees me at a certain angle can tell you I'm not starving, not by a long shot, but I'm.... not exactly a good cook. I eat a lot of sandwiches and crappy take-out. But the Apple family table was covered in steaming home-cooked marvels... I have to admit I was drooling.
And they were all so nice, and not in that "we're doing this out of charity" kind of way. The little one, Blossom or something, was really interested in my woodworking. Boy, she's sharp as a tack, that one. Asked all sorts of incredibly technical questions that would fly well above the heads of most kids her age. But she couldn't figure out why I wanted the wood that they considered unsellable since it was so ugly.
So I told her the truth: to me, it's not ugly. A farmer would see it that way, since the burls and knots and lumps meant the tree was sick; a carpenter would see it that way, too, since they look for clean, smooth finishes on their furniture. Me, though? I've always loved the way the flesh of the plant twists around those so-called imperfections; that's what makes it beautiful. Every piece I make is unique.
Then she asked if I thought that was true of ponies, too.
See what I mean? Sharp as a fucking tack.
I said yes, of course. Nopony that I know is perfect, and that's what makes us, as a species, amazing. Then she looked down at my forelegs, and I knew what was coming...
Yeah, she asked about my scars. Right away the rest of the family went beet-red and started shushing and scolding her, but I told her it was okay. I don't mind it when little ponies ask me about them; they're curious, and it's important they hear it from someone who's got lived experience instead of through sensationalized stories in the media, right?
So I told her what I tell all the little fillies and colts: I got those scars fighting a mighty battle. I was fighting myself. And I won. Hahaha, that always makes them smile. When nosy adults ask me about them, I just bark until they run away! That seemed to make her family uncomfortable, but she laughed. Gods, she was adorable.
Bleah. I think I need an antacid. I really made a pig of myself. Applejack made her brother lug all the wood back to my place, as well as three or four pies that I'm sure she thought would last me the rest of the week. (They didn't). That brother of hers sure is sweet. It's nice to meet a stallion who knows how to listen for a change. And I tell ya, were I twenty years younger I probably would have tried to take a bite of his pie, too! Haha!
Feb 20
Sorry I haven't written in so long. That trip to Sweet Apple Orchard was fun at the time, but for some reason I got really depressed afterwards. 'Some reason'... hah. I know why.
Ponies tell me I'm good with kids, but I'm not. I'm really not. I always get so sad when I see their crooked little teeth and their big eyes. I'm glad I was wearing my usual blouse, because if Blossom had asked me about the scar on my stomach, I think I would have lost it.
The only reason I knew what date it was today was because Buttercup and her husband came around with some groceries. I guess I'd lost track of the days and they got worried about me. That's nice, I guess, but at the same time it makes me feel like a fucking burden. I can barely take care of myself, so how could I ever think of taking care of a foal? Celestia's tits, even my stupid houseplant is starting to wither up.
Maybe I should get a dog... if only to worry the neighbours.
Feb 21
CAN'T BELIEVE IT! Apple Bloom (got her name right this time) talked to her teacher and THEY WANT ME TO SPEAK TO THE CLASS! I managed to keep my cool and act rational when the teacher was at my door, but as soon as she was gone I started bouncing around like the floor was a trampoline. I'm going to teach a wood-carving course! The students will pay a small stipend to cover the cost of materials as well as... wait for it... my fee! Yes, I'm going to get paid for this!
I better stop writing. The course is a couple of Mondays from now, and I have to prepare.
This is going to be epic!
Feb 25
Pinkie came to visit when I was out. I know this because she left a note on my door... and then inexplicably appeared from behind it. She should know better than to do things like that in front of ponies whose grip on reality is as feeble as mine!
No, I shouldn't say (write?) that. She's really very sweet. It's funny how star-struck I was when another EoH invited me to dinner, and yet, to me, Pinkie's just... Pinkie. I guess I've gotten as used to her as she has to me. There's something about her... I just feel like we're on the same wavelength sometimes. Believe it or not, she makes me feel normal.
I felt the need to impress, so I served her the best dinner I know how to make: pasta alfredo with garlic cream sauce. She ate three bowls and still had room for dessert! And she's still skinnier than me, the bitch, hahaha. Must be because a body in motion stays in motion.
And I mean it. She never stops moving. I must've been hugged seven times in the course of an hour. She does this thing where she dive-bombs me, hugs me so hard it feels like my ribs are going to break, and then a split-second later she's on the other side of the room, leaving me reeling and wondering what just happened. Is she this touchy-feely with everypony?
A lot of ponies think she's an airhead, but she's surprisingly wise beyond her years. When I told her the bit about being on the same wavelength, you know what she said to me? "The schizophrenic and the shaman are in the same astral waters, because the schizophrenic was drowning and the shaman dove in to save her." I just... what??
Mar 1
Where do I begin. Oh Celestia, where do I fucking begin.
Okay... I had a pet rat when I was a filly. He was so cute. I really like rats when there's only one of them. It's when you have to deal with a ton of them at once that they become pests.
That's exactly how I feel about children. One on one, they're adorable, but IN LARGE GROUPS THEY ARE THE MOST AGGRAVATING THINGS IN CREATION. Ten minutes in to my three-hour course my right eye was twitching something fierce. It just went from bad to worse. See, right off the bat these two little shits thought they were too good for "manual labour", and then when the teacher made them try it, they decided they were better at it than everypony else, Yours Truly included. So I "accidentally" tripped one of them and she broke her glasses. Oops!
Oh, but it gets better. Some reject who sounded like a Vanhoover pothead got his tail stuck in the lathe, so I got the chance to run outside for a smoke break. When I got back inside, it was pandemonium! Everypony (except the teacher) was screaming with laughter because one of Apple Bloom's friends had carved a giant dong. The child is eight! EIGHT! How does she know what a dong looks like?! She even got the medial ring right... ugh. She was poking another filly in the face with it, and when I tried to take it away from her someone yelled "Careful, it'll give your cooch splinters!" and, well, that was it. I may have said a few inappropriate things on my way out. I have a feeling I won't be invited back.
Celestia and Luna on a raft. Someone nominate that teacher for sainthood! I have no idea how she puts up with that shit day in and day out.
Maybe the bottle I saw stashed in her desk helps take the edge off.
Mar 3
Wow. Not quite sure what to make of today... or tonight.
Pinkie came by again, and at first I was sure Buttercup had sent her to check up on me. But no. She came wearing some sort of circus tent-cum-dress and shoved a bouquet of flowers in my face, asking me if I'd do her the honour of going out to dinner! She looked like she'd done a face plant into a box of makeup, and that's when it hit me: this was a date. She was asking me on a date.
The mare is literally half my age, and she's on a first-name basis with Celestia, and she's a frigging EoH, and she's asking ME on a date and how come Buttercup never told me that she likes mares??? For that matter, how come Buttercup told her about me? Is that the sort of thing sane ponies chat to their tenants about over brunch? "Pass the butter, oh, and by the way my crazy older sister digs beanfields as well as cornstalks"? Jeez. My sister and I never talk about that part of my past, not since our fight. The last she ever mentioned it was... unpleasant to say the least. It's funny---my memory patches out here and there, but I still remember what she said to me that night all those years ago. I still remember what her justification was.
"It was for the best, Loosey. When you have one of your episodes, you kick your heels up for anypony and everypony!"
I still resent her for that. She didn't get it. She doesn't get it. Sure I made some stupid decisions when I when riding a manic high, but I was never like that. Not every bipolar pony is promiscuous, dammit! Growing up, she had it so easy. Just marry your high school sweetheart and never have to question who you really are...
And even if I had been a slut, that was no reason to have me sterilized. No reason.
I'm getting off on a tangent, aren't I? I'm good at that.
Well I guess you could say I'm of two minds about everything, hahaha. So I didn't turn Pinkie down. Celestia knows the last time I got any action was when that guard at the hospital saw an opportunity when he realized no one would believe a crazy mare. Well, he also thought a crazy mare would be easy to overpower, so I guess he was wrong on both counts! Hahahaha! Hope he likes his new life as a gelding! I told Pinkie that story, but for once, she didn't laugh. I changed the subject as fast as I could.
Dinner was really nice. I was a little worried when I saw the place---when the restaurant's so dark you can barely read the tiny font on the menu, you just know it's going to be expensive. But Pinkie apparently saved the Maitre d's life or something, I can't quite remember the details, so we got a fancy bottle of wine on the house. Jeez, she's adorable when she gets tipsy. Can't handle her booze, though, so I had to practically carry her home. Once I dropped her on the doorstep, she made a move to kiss me---I'm sure she was aiming for my lips, but she kissed my eyeball instead! Gah, that felt weird!
I wonder how much of tonight she'll remember. Buttercup's going to kill me if I bring Pinkie home drunk again, ha!
Mar 25
Okay I have to do this. I have to write this.
For year after year on this day I'd drink myself into a stupor and do Celestia-knows-what. Sometimes I'd wake up a week later in a different town. I stopped doing that awhile ago, and I raraely drink at all anymore. Drinking is robbing happiness from the future and putting numbness in your present. Still, it would be nice to be numb today. March twenty-fifth is always hard. It's the day I knew I lost him.
It's weird how trauma blurs everything together into one big sweaty mass in your head. I don't remember much from that time, but I do remember the exact date. That's when I was admitted to the hospital, not for any psychiatric issues this time, but for a surgery. He'd stopped kicking. He'd been dead for awhile and they had to take him out before I got sepsis. That's when they did it, too---when I was under, my sister gave them permission to make sure it would never happen again.
I mean, in retrospect, she was probably right. I probably would have made a bad mother. But to not even give me a chance? Was it because she thought I'd done something to make him die? Did she think that's what I wanted? To be a living coffin???
Okay I can't write about this anymore. Pinkie's coming over soon because I asked her to. I don't want to be alone on this date but I just can't ask Buttercup.
~~later~~ Mar 26
I just looked at the clock and it is actually March 26th. It's two in the morning and Pinkie's asleep on the couch, her head on my lap. I hope I don't wake her. I wish I could say we spent the last six hours doing the nasty, but in reality we just talked. Ate dinner, then talked some more. Well, I talked and she listened. I've never seen her stay quiet for so long before! I know that's hard for her but she was such a good sport! I told her all about why ~~tod~~ yesterday was hard for me and she listened the whole time. I even lifted up my blouse and showed her my C-section scar. I hate hate HATE showing other ponies that scar but I felt like I could trust her, I mean, she was just staring at me with those glistening blue eyes. How could I not show her? Then she held me while I cried, and I think she cried too, a little, because I heard her sniffling.
This is where it gets weird.
Okay, I'm not proud of it, but I've read a lot of smut in my time. Sometimes those stupid romance novels were all that was available in the hospital "library" (i.e., the alcove with two shelves of dusty discarded books). This is usually the part where the "torrid affair" starts---the heroine cries on the love interest's shoulder after pouring her heart out, and they stare deeply into each other's eyes and bing bang boom they're boinking. But we didn't. Pinkie looked so... lost after hearing my story, I just couldn't bring myself to even try to kiss her. She just kept saying "I don't understand" and "You need to talk to Mrs. Cake" over and over again.
Why??? There's nothing new I could possibly tell my sister. I mean, she was there. She was the one who had Power of Attorney over me, and she was the one who said they should go ahead and take away any chance I'd ever have of being a mother again. But I promised Pinkie I'd talk to her as soon as I could.
She makes funny noises in her sleep. Hahaha. She's growing on me.
Mar 31
Can't write much. Stopped by Buttercup's and asked her if we could have a tete-a-tete after my appointment. She came with me, like she usually does (I get kind of woozy after).
I think she knows something's up. After all, she must have noticed the fact that Pinkie didn't come home after our 'date' the other night, right? Oh Celestia, does she think I screwed her tenant? This is going to get awkward.
They just called me. Gotta go!
Mar 32
oh celestia {indecipherable} hurts so much {indecipherable} skull
this headache is going to be the death of me I can't even see straight
Apr 2
Hahaha, that must have been a doozy of a migraine yesterday! I can't believe I actually wrote March 32! Maybe that was my brain trying to play an April Foal's prank on me.
Speaking of pranks, guess who somehow snuck into my apartment and filled my medicine cabinet with rubber balls? That sure woke me up this morning! I'm going to get you for that, Pinkie!
I've put the kettle on for tea. I wasn't up to it after my appointment the other day, so I had to put off talking to my sister the way Pinkie suggested... or insisted. She should be over soon.
Why am I so nervous?
Apr?
i am so furious i can't write
i can't bleieve it im going to kill her
i'm going to kill her
July 3
Well I got a nice gift on my birthday: they moved me from the maximum-security hospital wing to the medium. Now I'm allowed to have a quill and paper and all the tape I want. And I needed a lot of it to tape my journal back together.
I guess I really did a number on myself back in April. All of May and most of June my forelegs were swaddled up with bandages. They took the stitches off a few weeks ago, and I've been mending nicely, as the nurse put it. I have to take a protein shake three times a day to help the healing, and Pinkie's been smuggling in contraband cupcakes, hahaha.
I'm glad Buttercup still comes to visit me. I can't believe how angry I got at her. I shouldn't have... because it wasn't her fault. It never was her fault.
I've stopped going to my shock treatments, and for once the Doc agrees with me. The little they helped was far outweighed by how much they messed with my memories.
The brain is an amazing thing. A wonder of nature. When things get too hard to bear, it can sometimes shut them out entirely, or, sometimes it can twist them around to suit its own needs. And when you spend years using electric shocks to shut it off and snap it back on again, strange things can happen.
March twenty-fifth is still going to be an important date for me, but not for the reason I always thought. It's going to
{later}
The nurse came in to check up on me. Apparently I was crying without realizing it. It's still hard, you know? I got shown a side of my past and... imagine you'd been looking at yourself in a funhouse mirror for half your life, and all of a sudden you see what your face really looks like! Wouldn't that be fucking scary? Wouldn't it make you act a little crazy?
And poor Buttercup got the brunt of it. Thank Celestia she forgives me.
You see, she thought that once my acute psychosis passed, I'd remember things as they actually were. And since we hadn't been on speaking terms for so long, it... never really came up. We kept our conversations as neutral as possible, staying away from those dangerous, upsetting topics. Water under the bridge, right? Gods, how ironic that that April night is forever etched into my brain...
"What do you mean, I told them to sterilize you?" she said.
"When they did the C-section!" I screamed back.
"What C-section?"
"You know damn well!" I said. I think I was pacing around. "When they had to take that tiny corpse out of me! They put me under, and you gave them permission! 'She's crazy, she can't raise a baby. She'll sleep with anypony when she's having an episode, we can't have this happen again, it's for her own good! It's for the FUCKING BEST!'" I'd really lost it that time. I was already ripping pages out of this journal and throwing the crumpled paper around. "You always thought I was some sort of crazy whore because that helped you be the good daughter, the one Mom and Dad were proud of! And when you saw your chance to take away my ability to ever have a family of my own, you fucking jumped on it, didn't you?! But that's not the worst part! No, that's not the worst part! To add insult to injury, you never even told me where he was buried! Didn't you think I'd want to visit my son's grave once in awhile?"
The look on her face was just pure pain. "You still think that?" she whispered. "You still really believe you had a foal?"
I ripped off my shirt and pointed at the scar. "I know I was pregnant, Buttercup! Remember all those billowy dresses I wore to hide it, huh? How much I threw up? The pain I went through? How else do you explain this scar?!"
And then she closed her eyes, letting her tears spill down her face, and she told me.
She told me how I always was an odd duck, but I started acting erratically when I was a teenager. Staying up for days. Having conversations with myself. Picking at my hide until it bled. But everyone stopped focusing on my behaviour when my belly started to swell, because that meant they had something new to worry about.
They had no idea, and until now, neither did I.
By the time they dragged me to the hospital for examination, I was visibly heavy. A quick examination, and the on-call doctor estimated that it weighed six pounds.
It was the largest tumour he'd ever seen.
The emergency surgery saved my life, but not my uterus. It didn't matter. The radiation I had to go through would have left me sterile with or without the hysterectomy.
Cancer is traumatic for anypony, but when you're young and vulnerable and already a little rattled in the head, it can trigger whatever monster was lying dormant. In my case, it was schizoaffective disorder. All this time I thought I was bipolar---no, I had a horse of a different colour. The kind that brings mood swings as well as hallucinations and delusions, distortions of the mind that seem so... real. Of course, back then shock therapy was far less refined than it is today, and all those crude blasts did was break my memories into pieces, leaving my sick mind to put them back together wrong. It was all wrong.
All those years I wasted grieving over something that never was, mourning the loss of a ghost. All those years I refused to speak to my sweet little sister because I chose to believe she'd had me fixed out of spite. In reality, without her intervention, I wouldn't be here today.
I can't write anymore. Happy Birthday to me.
Jul 31
Good news. They're letting me out in a week. Pinkie's planning a 'Welcome Home' surprise party for me. She didn't tell me, of course, but Buttercup isn't as subtle when it comes to planning these things---she kept asking me what colour balloons I like, where I keep my plates and cutlery, that sort of thing. "Oh, I'm just curious," she'd say, blushing and looking away. I can put two and two together, honey! I'll still act surprised, though. It's so sweet of them.
You know what else is sweet? All of Pinkie's friends have been visiting me, too. I was a little shy at first, especially around the Princess, but I was just floored by how kind and warm-hearted they all are. I'm not very good at making new friends, but they seemed to understand.
They've all brought me "get well soon" gifts, which they really didn't have to do, but, hey, I'm not going to turn them down! The Princess got me a hoof-stitched, homemade journal for when this one runs out, and I was delighted to find that Pinkie had drawn doodles on every page, with things like "Remember how strong you are!" and "Don't forget to laugh!" written here and there. Normally that kind of sentimentality would make me gag, but coming from her, it feels so right.
Rarity made me a beautiful shawl to replace the blouse I ripped back in April. She said I shouldn't be ashamed of the scar on my belly, because it proves that I'm a survivor. And when she said it, there was this odd glint of sadness in her eyes.... makes me wonder what she's had to survive herself.
Oh! And just yesterday, Fluttershy showed up with this quivering little bundle cradled in her arms. I'm a bit embarrassed by the sound I made when I saw his scruffy face for the first time... a puppy! For me! He's the runt of the litter and no one else wanted to adopt him. Was I interested, she asked? I couldn't have said YES fast enough! She'll keep him until I'm back at home, then she'll come over and teach me how to train him. He already knows how to shake a paw.... it's so adorable!
I'm really starting to learn that happiness isn't an absence of depression. It's something else entirely.
Well, I should do something to celebrate... as of tomorrow, I haven't had a cigarette in two months! That's a new record!
Author's Note
Hoo boy. This started out as a writing exercise, but once I'd found Screw Loose's voice, I couldn't let her go. I've always wanted to dig deeper into her character since I know what it's like to live with schizoaffective disorder. Some of what Loosey went through in this story is drawn from personal experience.
I've marked this as 'Complete', but there may be a non-diary-format sequel if I feel up to it (this was VERY hard to write!) which would touch on some of the things that were mentioned in here---for example, why she calls her 'Buttercup' instead of 'Cup Cake'. We'll see.
Thanks for reading!
