Tough Little Cookie

Gone. Completely changed. Not in body... but in mind. Honestly, I can't figure out which is worse... knowing that he can't come back... or knowing that he can, but won't come back...

I remember how proud he was when I used to succeed at something, especially if I had been struggling before... I remember how I would fail every time, but he would always be there to help me back up. And when I succeeded, we would go and celebrate, just me and him... and he would call me his tough little cookie.

It is all I have of him, these memories... memories of fun, and memories of happiness... I cling to them like I would cling to a lifeline, for that is what they are. They are my tether to sanity, to hope, to every dream I've ever had. Without them, I would be nothing.

I remember how he used to say to me,

"Come, my tough little cookie. You must be patient, and work hard for your dreams... you must not force things to do what they refuse to do, but you must still work at it. Little by little, bit by bit, your dreams coming to life before your eyes... not caused by the work of a pained fairy looking to spare others her fate, or a shooting star falling from its place in the sky, or a lost, drifting eyelash.

But above all... you must never give up. Never. Even if it takes an eternity of work, of patience, you must never give up. After all, how can you win a race you stopped running in?"

I never gave up on him, and I never will. It is all I can do, for he is nothing but a memory long past. But each day I wait patiently for my beloved father to return, clinging tightly to my optimism. And each day my hopes are shattered, my heart cracked. For each day, I see a husk. A body empty of what he once was.

***

I remember how his eyes would twinkle like the night sky when we discovered something new. He would pick me up and spin around, laughing and whooping with excitement the whole time, my high pitched giggling making for a beautiful harmony of happiness. We would spend the rest of the day reveling in the feeling of satisfaction, of a successful mission. And once the excitement had worn off and I began nodding off, he would carry me to my bed and tuck me in. And every night he would hum a little tune for me, a tune that my mother used to sing.

פרפר, פרפר, פרח חיי, רדנה מהר, שב אליי. לה -לה לה, לה לה לה

And when he he had gone to his own room to sleep, I would sing the song back to him.

Butterfly, butterfly, living flower o' mine, fall quickly to sleep, rest with me

And in his dreams he would watch over me, and I would watch over him. He would be brave, and I would be brave, and we were both happy.

***

Ponies always say that my eyes are my most beautiful physical feature. They say that they seem to sparkle with a wisdom beyond my age, and that the lights seem to reflect deeper than just the outside. My eyes weren't always like that... but they don't know that. I've always believed that eyes reflect the soul, and my father's and mine seem to be the case. His used to be electric blue, always sparkling with glee. Now, they are a dull brown, never lighting up with joy like they used to. Mine had been a bright purple, shining like amethysts, gleaming with childlike innocence. Now... now they have been muted to a grayish shade, the happy innocence reflected in them dissolved by the reality of a cruel world.

***

Rainbow Dash sort of reminds me of this father of mine... tey are both charismatic, always grinning, both loyal. Except... Rainbow Dash doesn't leave her friends hanging. My father left me alone in the dark, waiting for eternity to end.

***

This coward is not my father. Yes, he looks like him, but he is not. My father wouldn't submit to her will so easily. He wouldn't be afraid to stand up for me. He would be there for me, helping me back up when I fall, calling me his tough little cookie. He would teach me to be strong and  helpful. He would be teaching me to be patient, to wait until the end of eternity, to never give up. He would teach me to be loyal, and kind and generous. He would teach me to laugh and to be generous and he would teach me everything I knew. But most of all, he would teach me to love, and to be loved in return. He would teach me to protect those closest to my heart, just as he always did for me. He wouldn't be putting me down for her sake. He wouldn't stand down and let her hurt me. He would protect me... but he isn't here. This isn't my father.

***

I remember my father. He was strong. He would protect me at the cost of everything else, as long as I was happy. He used to love me. And we were both happy. The two of us, just me and him, off gallivanting in ab little adventure. Life was simple, and life was kind back then, in my world of sunshine and friendship. Back in the world with my true father, there was no pain, no cruelty, no hostility. There was only kindness, all flowing from the purest of hearts. His heart was full of kindness and cheer, so much that he could spare very much to share with the others.

***

But there was one flaw to him, one puddle of ink on the clean slate of his personality. He would never be able to keep a promise. No matter what, he would not fulfill his promises.

***

I don't know why I believed him when he promised to me, despite knowing that he would never keep it. I was a fool. He promised he would always protect me, but he has broken the promise. He has betrayed my trust yet again, and yet again it has hurt me. But this time it worse than ever. My heart had not been cracked. It had been shattered, a spiderweb of fractures spreading along it's surface, reaching for the fragile warmth within its cold, hard surface. He has abondoned me, and all we stood for. He is not being strong. He is not standing up for himself, or for those he holds dear. He has given up. He thinks there is nothing he can do, despite saying that there is always hope to be found in the churning sea of pessimism threatening to drag you down.

***

There is nothing more to do. I have done all I could. Now, all that's left is to wait... be patient and remember all he was. Stay strong. Don't fall. I can never fall, for falling is weakness. He wouldn't want me to be weak. So I will not crumble under the pressure. Neither shall my mask of false happiness. I will wait alone in the hidden dark, helping others to the light, teaching them, guiding them, as he would for me. I will be strong. The dark will never scare me away... though it would be really nice to... to have a friend here... or maybe someone to protect me...

***

The fear in the darkness is too much to bear sometimes, but I must be strong. No matter how much he hates me, I will always love him, and I will always wait for him. Patiently,  until the end of the world, never giving up and always staying strong. There is nothing left to do.

***

To this day, I have never figured out what brought upon this change. Actually, I have one possible cause. But I don't think it would ever happen. My father would never hate me... at least, I don't think so...

But if he didn't hate me, why would he do this to me? Why would he leave me to suffer alone in the depths of the darkeness, alone to face my fears? Does he no longer love me?

It is the only possible reason.

***

Therefore, to my father, wherever you are, please know. Please know that I am being patient and working hard for you. I am not forcing you to come back, but I am still working at it. Little by little, bit by bit, my hopes coming to life before my eyes. Not caused by the work of a pained fairy looking to spare others her fate, or a shooting star falling from it's place in the sky, or a lost, drifting eyelash.

But above all, I have never given up, and I never will. Even if it takes an eternity of work, of patience, I will never give up. After all, how can I win a race I stopped running in?

***

Yet still, my father is gone. This empty husk of a stallion is not my father. He may pretend so, he may say so, but he is not my father. And he shall never replace my father, either. When my father returns, I shall be here, waiting patiently, never giving up, staying strong in the darkness of my fears. I will be alone, waiting for my father, waiting to guide him back to the light, waiting for him to call me his tough little cookie.

Please Father... please come back to me... please come back to your tough little cookie...