I identify as nobody. I merely walk around Ponyville as others pass through me. Nopony stops to acknowledge me. I am not seen, nor am I heard or noticed. I do nothing for the world around me, therefore it doesn’t realize that I exist. Not even nature. The sun’s heavenly rays of light that showers me when I walk through town do not bring me warmth. The frigid snow doesn’t make me tingly and numb on a cold winter day. Strong gales rustle up the trees around me, but simply decide to avoid me. Rain pours, but no matter how much the sky cries, I cannot feel its sorrow leaking onto my scales.
The ground below me is cold. It has been all day… all week… all year. On the steamiest of days, it’s the same no matter what. I like that. It’s a feeling. It’s better than feeling nothing. No pain, no sorrow, no hatred, but cold. Everything but coldness has been drained out of me, as the world has turned from pastel to black and white. I do have memory. I remember, feelings. Ones that I had when I was young. I remember happiness, sadness, pain, pleasure… all very wonderful feelings. I wish I could feel them again. I wish that for one precious moment, it this dark, gloomy time of my life, that I could feel any one of those feelings. Whether it’s joy or pain, sunshine or rain, pleasure or agony. Something, anything would be fantastic. It’s nice to dream. Even if you know that the dream shall never come true.
It’s quiet. It has been for some time. It had been sudden. One moment I was in a world filled with noise. There was laughter, singing, talking, yelling… and then nothing. I had never questioned it. I had no reason to. It wasn’t like anything really mattered to me at that moment… just like nothing really matters to me right now. Although I didn’t question it, or care too much about it, I still kind of miss it. It’s something that’s been part of my life for quite some time, and now it’s gone. I remember the experience, I remember everything about it… but it wasn’t there anymore. Nothing’s wrong with it being gone, but I had grown accustomed to it over time. But that doesn’t matter. No need to dwell on it.
I find myself thinking about things that don’t matter much very often. There is not much else to think about. Well… there are a few other slightly more important things, but I try to ignore them. I would rather not think about those... dreadful memories. When they do come to mind and I dwell on such old, shameful things, the world tends to get a touch duller. I would rather not be completely shrouded in darkness. For some peculiar reason, I feel as if that would make everything worse than it already is, if that is somehow possible. Maybe because I would end up blinded from reality. Maybe I’d stray away from where I am now and lose myself in the pits of insanity, Though I cannot quite pinpoint my exact reason for avoiding this blackness, I believe that it would most likely be best if I simply stayed away from it.
I am currently making my way into Whitetail Woods. I come here very often. Something always draws me here, yet I can never find what that thing is. No matter how many trips I make, I am always greeted with the sight of an empty field. It looks just like everything else; It is dull, grey, drained of life and magic. Sometimes I wonder why I am directed here. Again, it is not like it matters much. Like I said before, nothing really matters to me. It is something safe to think about, so I often find myself pondering about it. Like all of the other times, I walk the exact same route. The one that the shadows always point me to. The same curves, the same feeling of the ground growing colder than everywhere else. I see the same sights, everything is bland as it should be. Nothing is ever different. But I still go. I am patient. Even if it takes me years, I will find out what is so important about this place.
The field is a great place to be. It’s vast and full of grey flowers. Some are light grey, others are dark grey, and sometimes, some are black. I always pull a black one from the ground and sniff it. It smells like emptiness and sorrow. Today is no different as I bend down and pick a lone grey rose and sniff it. Others may say that there is dew on this rose, but I don't see dew. I see tears. They are tears of loneliness. Perhaps it is estranged from this world, just as I am. Or maybe I am being dense and I am the only one, seeking companionship in a single rose that just happened to have water on it. My common sense must have diminished over time.
I have finally arrived at this field, as I have done more times that I could ever hope to count. I am greeted with the same dull sight. I walk across the entire field, admiring the same scene that I’ve stared at several times. As I continue walking I see… color? Maybe it was me beginning to lose my sanity. I couldn't care less. My pace quickened slightly, yet I still didn’t rush myself as there was really no need to rush.
I keep going, and there’s definitely color there. It was a soft beige color, and it was absolutely beautiful. My breathing quickened slightly as I got closer, and closer…
It was simply a noose. It was glowing, and I almost thought I heard a voice commanding me to grab it. So I did. I looked up and saw a lone tree. It was a beautiful cherry blossom tree. Light pink petals flowed gently in the soft wind that I could now feel. It’s been so very long since I’ve felt the wind. I climbed this tree and tied the noose on a branch, letting it dangle freely as it swayed with the wind, just like the gorgeous petals that surrounded me. I climbed back down and put my head through the noose. Perhaps I’d be free after this. Maybe I could finally make somepony smile. Maybe Twilight would be proud of me for finally realizing that I just didn't belong in this world. I smiled a little. As I stated earlier, it is nice to dream. My dream was to finally do something right for once. I sighed and let myself dangle on the rope.
For a while nothing happened. I pulled my head away for a moment and blinked. This happened before. I remember this moment. This was when the color and noise and feelings went away.
It was then when I began realizing…
I was being silly. There was no way I could kill myself.
I... Spike the dragon... was already dead.
Author's Note
It was late at night when I suddenly decided to open up Word and begin writing. I doubt anyone would bother to read it. But if anyone does read this nonsense, then thank you. I hope you somehow enjoyed it.
