Last Wishes

"Errr. Go away sun!" I grumble for the fourteenth time, waving my hoof in a blind effort to knock the burning beams of light out of my eyes. I could just get up and just close the curtains -alleviating the problem- but that would mean getting out of bed, which I could find no incentive to do. I leave the sun in my eyes. I turn. I pull the covers over my head. But none of it works.

"You win," I mutter. Defeated, I half roll, half fall out of bed and open my room's door and head into the hallway. Yawning, I stumble down the corridor with hazy eyes. Like normal, the floorboards creek under me and echo through the silent house. The house is probably falling apart, to be honest, but there's not much I can do. I'm not able to work and doing tricks on a Scooter hasn't made a profit so far.

I leave the disrepair of the house to future Scootaloo and open the bathroom door, walking in and turning the shower on. Nature calls and I rid the weight on my bladder. I step into the shower. "Ahh," I sigh in content. The warm water washes over me, weaving between my fur and warming my skin. Slowly, my mind awakens, followed shortly by my eyes.

I pause.

What am I doing here?

The news of yesterday fills my mind. Anxiety fills my chest. What's the point?, I begin to ask myself. I've asked myself that same question countless times before but could always find a lame excuse of an answer. Saying I was still alive would normally be enough to get me through a day but... There's nothing to live for anymore.

There is no point.

Maybe. Maybe the point to life is just... life. You're born and you die. I mean, we are only DNA passed through each generation. Maybe we just overthink? Too intelligent for our own good. It'd make sense.

And on top of that we're given emotions. Why can't we just be happy and that's it? No need for feeling shit about yourself or hating the world. But emotions are what make us ponies, make us more than just every other animal. Without them we wouldn't be the same. But I think, for just once, I'd like to not feel anything at all.

I turn the shower off and step out. Using my towel, I dry myself.

Heading back into my room, I walk to the window to shut the curtains but see two awfully familiar fillies walking towards my house.

"School."

Bunking would be great right now; no school means no one would bother me. But, thanks to a recent conversation with Miss Cheerilee,  my attendance is at an all-time-low. Now, thanks to the school's "caring" attitude, they've threatened to suspend me from school.

I dump the towel on my bed, adding to the mess, and rush down the stairs. I stuff food, drink and school supplies into my bag and grab my scooter as the door knocks.

"Morning!"

"So, you see, there is no point!" I say, panting slightly after trying to explain my jumbled thoughts. My friends look at me, confusion in one and bemusement in the other. I'm not sure why I needed to share my thoughts; I think some part of me wanted to be understood. But so far, I'm doing the complete opposite.

"When did you get all phil-philo..."

"Philosophical," I help.

"Yeah, Philosophical. When did you get all like that?" Apple Bloom asks. We had just stepped out of Sugercube Corner for our breakfast and were finally on our way to school. And no, it's not healthy but it sure is nice.

My friends, throughout my rambling, listened but there was a lack of understanding. They were asking tons of questions because -I assume- they had never thought of this stuff.

"I don't know. I just kinda always think it, you know?" I reply.

"But there has to be a point!" Sweetie says. Her brows are knitted together in thought, her eyes staring at me in desperation. I suppose telling her something like this might not have been the best idea; she had never been one for things like this.

"Ah think there is, Sweetie. Don't worry."

"Well... maybe there is. But what if we're just too smart for our own good? What if we over think?" I say. Although slightly mean to push Sweetie's mind so far, I like these topics. Probably in a selfish way, it makes me feel better than others.

"No! There is a point!" Sweetie exclaims. She snaps her gaze forward and doesn't look at me.

"Well, that's pretty int'resting but here's a question for yer: are you scared of death?"

"No," I say rather too quickly.

"Really?" Apple Bloom asks, cocking her head sideways.

"Well... maybe. But why should I be? What's the point?" I counter.

"Well, ah don't know the answer to that but surely somethin' keeps you going?"

"Not really. Maybe..." My mind wanders back to when I had parents and before I saw the world for what it really was. Back then I didn't worry about the meaning of life. I just played and had fun. I had a list that I thought I would try and complete. It had stuff like 'get Cutie Mark' and other foulish dreams but I threw it out some time ago, not seeing the point in completing it.

"Love!?" Sweetie blurts out.

"Eh, colts?!" I say, using my premeditated answer.

But my mind slows down and I can't help but think about what she just said. Love: the most powerful emotion of them all. Enough people have said that love is the answer to life but... does someone want to love me? Doubtful.

"Who said colts?" Apple Bloom asked teasingly. Mares? Yes, most of the population are female, making for a rather large population of fillyfoolers, but same again: does someone want to love me?

"No... just no. And I don't think I'm bothered anyway. Plus, you seen anyone who seems bothered about me?" I say, Sweetie looking at something in the distant.

"Fair enough," Apple Bloom says.

The conversation moves off of the subject and soon the school house comes into sight. We walk into the building, take our seats and prepare for the onslaught of boredom.

First period. OK.

Second period. Eh.

Break. "Can we go home yet?"

Third period. "Fuuuuck."

Fourth period. What are you doing here Scootaloo?"

Why should you worry about grades and staying in school when you're going to die?

Lunch. "I'm going home."

"And how yer gonna do that? Yer're already on thin ice with the school," Apple Bloom comments from behind her sandwich.

"Yeah, but I just can't right now." I get up from the bench and start packing my things.

"Where are you going?" Sweetie asks.

"I don't know. I... it's like when someone's just died and you don't want to be around ponies anymore and you just... can't." My saddlebags packed, I start walking away to the gates, giving one last glance back at my friends. I give a small smile.

My friends quickly pack their things and catch up to me.

"You can't just walk home, Scootaloo. You know that. Yer' already close to being suspended. What do you think they'll do when they find out you skipped today?" Apple Bloom asks.

"I know. It doesn't matter."

"Why do you keep saying that?!" Sweetie almost shouts. "You're acting like your whole family's dead or something! Why are you acting like this?" I turn round, next to the fence, and face my friends.

And ouch Sweetie.

"I'm acting like this because..." I struggle for words. I don't want to tell them. "Because... stuff!" I finish lamely, hitting my hoof into the dirt. "I don't want to tell anypony!"

"why not? We're your friends! You can tell us," Sweetie says, moving forward. I move backwards.

I begin quietly, "you shouldn't have to deal with this as well. I... this is my problem and I don't want you to suffer for it."

"Friends are meant to help each other, you dummy, why can't you just tell us?" Apple Bloom says, her eyes caring and warm.

I let a breath out. "I just can't." The bell rings. My friends look behind them, to the school house. "Bye."

With most of the ponies either at school or work, I find the streets of Ponyville relaxingly quiet. The sun shines down on me and the buildings around me. Some birds fly over, giving off calls to each. It's nice, quiet and -most importantly- away from others. I step off my scooter and allow myself to enjoy the scenery.

"Psst," somepony says. I look around me. "Over here." In the direction of the voice, in between two houses, I see the outline of a pony. I step closer and the pony becomes clearer.

"What?" I ask.

"What you doing out of school? You're too young to of graduated," he says. He's a pony maybe a few years older than me. He's wearing a dumb jacket which is way too big for this whether.

"I don't have school today," I say.

"Really? I think you're just bunking. What's the reason then?" He brushes his scraggly black mane out of his eyes.

"Why do you care?" I ask.

"Oh, I don't really. I just know it's hard sometimes. You just want a little break sometimes?" he says. His voice is annoyingly slow and he wears a constant smirk. I grumble a response.

"Well, what if I could help you out?" He reaches into his coat and pulls out a small medical syringe.

"What's that?" I look at it. It contains a small amount of orange liquid. I'm not sure what it is. I park my scooter against the wall and move in closer to inspect.

"This is a little something new from out in Manehatton. They called it something like 'Chemical 2386', but that's just egghead talk. What's actually important is what it does," he says. "Complete bliss. You feeling down? This will take care of it. It's not in the shops yet but I've been asked to hand some of the early stuff out."

"Can I have it?"

"Wow!" He pulls it out of my reach. "Aren't you eager? Yes, you can have it. But for a price."

Well, don't know what money he thinks I have. "Yeah, well I don't have any bits." I turn around and pick up my scooter.

"But you have that."

"This?!" He wants my scooter? "You're not having it!"

"OK. OK. How about a tester then? I'll give you a little bit for free. You like it, you can back for more. Deal?"

I stop and turn back to him. "Free?" I ask.

"Yep. No strings attached."

I hold out my hoof to him. "Deal." He reaches back into his pocket, getting out a syringe with less liquid in it and gives it to me.

"I'll be here when you need me," he says round a smile.

I walk away, wrapping the syringe under my wing and head home.

What have you just done?

He said it would help.

You don't what it is.

I don't really care at this point.

I open my door, walk in, shut it and sit on my couch. I take the syringe from under my wing.

I put it on the table in front of me and stare at it.

Should I do this?

Part of me says no. The other screams YES!

I pick up the needle.