Breaking my heart strings.

Now here I sit; in a large green chair staring blankly into the fire burning away in the grate of my apartment. I was tempted to throw every picture, every present, and even token of our friendship that she'd ever given me into the grate. The flames could burn the items and images of the past, but they'd never be able to burn the memories from my mind. So I just sat watching the crackling of the fire thinking.

The nylon rope holds in a tight noose supported by the brace of the piping just above my stove; I place my neck in the loop and consider blessing myself. I never was all that big on religion; especially with the Equestrian princess basically being immortal sun and moon Goddesses. Never the less, I ask what ever forces in the universe to be merciful to me in death, even if I'm rejecting their greatest gift in spite....I jump

A lift the cheap bottle of Wild Irish rose to my lips and drink, the stuff burns like acid going down but I don't care. My glazed eyes travel over to the embers as they crackle and pop, I fall to my knees burying my face in my hands sobbing into them, my tears hot and drizzling into the rug. I stop; I catch my breath, and I laugh. It's a soft and  cheerful at first, but then I gets louder and more ...sporadic. It's a laugh of delusional denial, a fully fledged descent to madness as more images flash in from of my eyes.

"Oh yes! Oh Bon Bon! YES! More! HARDER" Lyra cries out as that...Takes her again and again with a giant strap on. The sweat dripping down her muzzle eyes closed in lust. Bon Bon smirks evilly and turns her head to me;, and she flips me off. Then holds a picture of me and her in central park on the day the Equestrian/Earth world peace accord was signed, she rips in half as she cackles and speeds up taking the mare I loved more than life itself mercilessly.

"You....WHORE!" I scream at the top of voice chucking the Irish rose (Shit's dirt cheap anyway) at the hallucination. There was a shattering of glass hitting the wall it got a treatment of cheap brewed hybrid of wine and whiskey; followed by a shattering crash as my lamp, impacted by the bottle hitting it and knocking over and falling flat on the floor. A puff of smoke as the outlet shorted out from the booze seeping into it; part of myself wishing a fire would start, I'd only watch and wait for the flames to take me home, it never did.

I went over to the window and took a look outside; It was still raining, it was like ever since they told me it refused to stop, people and ponies running for shelter from the hard and heavy drops like they where bullets from the archangels machine guns on Judgment day. I picked up a miniature bottle of a shot of vodka; I looked at it with a frown as I unscrewed the cap and took a sniff of the oily clear toxin.

Lyra was standing there looking at me, her expression clearly sadness. Bon Bon was their with her but she was equally grim as they looked at me. "James, please don't do this." Bon Bon begged me holding a hand out.

"You're not real; why should I even listen to the inner workings of my own Schizophrenic ramblings?" I said the bottle inching to my lips, before the poison could touch my lips, a green hand pushed it away and I turned to look at the big pleading eyes of Lyra. She looked at me with a pleading sense old saying 'For me; stop hurting yourself.'  While Bon Bon's conveyed a plea to stop thinking she was mercilessly hurting the sweet and loving Lyra day and night in a twisted web of dominance and submission; neither existed in their relationship, it was an equal exchange of love, understanding and compassion from mare to mare.

"I know you're both equally sound of mind and level headed, but I don't know why my mind can't comprehend that." I said keeping my vodka close to my lips but not taking a swig, I wanted to see where this would go first.

Lyra looks at me crying tears of glistening sapphires from her glowing golden eyes, she's so pretty. "James; you promised you'd give us a chance, a chance to get back in touch with my best friend from home, A chance to get a grip on our relationship."

"Which is no different that any other kind of relationship." Bon Bon added gently stroking Lyra's hair and nuzzling her gently. The image of what she did a few pages of my journal of insanity ago, rubbed out, like an artist working on a comic book erasing his hours of painstaking work with a can of turpentine.

I dumped the clear acidic shot of devil's mouthwash down the rusty drain, my head pounding and stinging like a needle had gone to the very center.