On a good day, I can make my way up to Cloudsdale. Where the air is fresh and the sun splashes on everything and everypony. Where you can see for miles and miles and miles in clear blue skies. You can see Canterlot Castle, you can see Neighagra Falls and you can even see some of the buildings in the Crystal Empire. I can see forever from that cloudy city and it's my favorite place to go.
On a good day, that is.
On a good day, I'll wake up in the morning, look into the mirror and see past the all scars. Past the inky blotches and splotches and dots on my fur. I'll open my mouth wide and stick my tongue out and giggle. Like normal fillies. I'll make faces in the mirror and only see that I'm beautiful. That my life isn't made up of what the other kids think of me. No nasty names, like a filly who has a disease and it looks like someone tried to erase part of her face, but didn't finish the job. They won't call me oil spill, or stain, or penguin.
On a good day, they only call me ugly.
And on a good day. I can let that roll off my shoulders.
On a good day, nopony would mention that I was an orphan and the other colts and fillies wouldn't pick on me. They wouldn't remind me that my parents pushed me off a cloud when I was a baby to get rid of me, making me a 'Nudge.' An unwanted pregnancy and an unwanted filly. "A baby who is too dumb to die." They call me, and on a good day I could smile and giggle and pretend it didn't hurt.
On a good day I wouldn't get into a fight.
On a good day, I could get my brother to take me out for ice cream and we'll get all the way up to the vendor stall, where my brother would say "And one for my sister" And on a good day, the vendor doesn't squint at me as if trying to search for a family resemblance that isn't there.
And on a good day, I'll forget that I'm sick and start eating the ice cream before I realize I can't taste it. Or smell it. Or feel it against my hooves as it dribbles out of the cone. That the feathers are falling out of my wings, and I'm starting to lose my fur. Or that half of my frame is covered in sickness. On a good day I'll pretend that my body isn't shutting down on itself and I still have another birthday to look forwards to and tomorrow things will be better and the sun will be brighter.
And on a good day, I almost believe it.
On a good day, that is.
On a good day, when I'm too sick to find a smile, he'll take me to Sugar Cube Corner, where there are endless cupcakes, and desserts and pies and goodies. But I can't smell or taste anything, so there's no point. But we wait anyway.
On a good day, it doesn't take long at all before Pinkie shows up. She'll give me a kiss on the forehead and give me a bowl of oatmeal. She'll tell me it doesn't take like anything, so we can eat it together, and share the same experience like everypony else in the shop. She'll sit with me, rather than allll the other customers and for a minute, I'll be happy.
And on a good day I'll be able to hold onto that feeling up until we leave.
On a good day, we wouldn't have to leave Sugar Cube Corner to go to the doctor, doing hundreds of tests for hours and hours, searching blindly for a cure that wasn't there. On a good day they don't pull out the needles and they don't have to do any blood work. And on a good day, I can convince myself that I would rather be here, in the hospital, watching the doctors give me the grand daddy of all heart breaking smiles, and talking to me in terms I'll understand, instead of going to a school like a normal filly, where they would tease me endlessly.
On a good day, they'll tell me I'm a tough little filly, and to 'hang in there.' They'll give me a lollypop even though it doesn't matter and on a good day, I'll smile, and make a joke about how it beats school and on a good day, they won't have any idea how scared I am.
On a good day, I'll have enough energy left to stay up and watch the stars come out. I'd count them and do my best to stay awake, and hope when I do fall asleep, I'll have a nightmare.
I'll have some nightmare about being picked on, or my wings giving out in mid flight, or maybe getting eaten by Timber wolves. On a good day, I won't have a dream.
When I dream, I dream about my mother, telling me she didn't want me. Or that I was a mistake and you learn from mistakes- you don't love them. Or they'd find a cure for my sickness, and they'd give it to me, and my blotches and splotches would go away and everything would be ok. I'd have a birthday party, and make it to eleven years old with all sorts of new friends. I'd wake up just when my parents were about to hug me and tell me they loved me, and I wasn't alone.
On a good day, it takes me almost a minute before I realize it was just a dream.
And on a good day, I don't cry.
On a good day, that is.
On a good day, I can make my way up to Cloudsdale. I can pump my wings hard enough, and pretend my feathers aren't falling out. I forget the doctor's orders, and reach for the sky, like the stars were holding an answer for me, just waiting for me to take it. And maybe if I try hard enough, and maybe if I fly hard enough, I can make it. Even if it's only in my imagination.
And on a good day?
I can see past all the never and maybes, past the whys and the lies, and I can see past all the scars. Right towards the stars.
An endless sea of glittering hope, begging for a wish.
And on a good day, I can forget that there aren't enough wishes to go around, so I close my eyes really really tightly, hold my breath and wish as hard as I can.
"I wish that tomorrow will be a good day."
Author's Note
Something very personal which I wanted to try and conceptualize into a story. The story is a sad one- a little girl realizing she doesn't have terribly long to live. The lasting punch at the end, "I wish tomorrow will be a good day" tries to send the message of hope, instead of despair. Even though you know your life is in shambles, you can still reach for the stars- you can make a wish.
There's always hope.
The series does a fine job of painting this marvelous world where problem are outlandish and exaggerated by magic, and flying and talking horses. And thats a lovely thing. It makes people want to live there. If you could go to Equestria, one way ticket, for good (and become a pony in the process) Would you do it? I know quite a few folks who would say yes. It's a fabulous looking existence, is it not? It's so fantastic it almost diminishes that something like -this- could happen. And with that idea diminished, so does the strength of 'hope.' I wanted hope to be something to remember. I need to remember.
So I wrote this.
