Don’t Have the Self-Control
Addiction is the shittiest form of love. But I hesitate to call this addiction. Addiction is something you can't go without that you were meant to be able to. But I have to eat. Feed. Whatever. It's a basic biological necessity. If I don't eat, I starve. If I starve too long, I grow weak and die. But beyond that simple clinical fact, I more importantly don't enjoy starving. I don't like being hungry, and it is the simple unpleasantness of the sensation that drives me rather than the detached acknowledgement of my need for sustenance.
But with you, it feels like an addiction. Ain't that a shame?
You are not a pleasant pony. Sure you have your moments, but they are moments. On the whole, you are absolutely insufferable.
Not that I'm Prince Charming. Ha ha. In fact, we're pretty well ill-suited for each other. At least it's a two-way street. I guess? I'm not sure that makes it better, but it sure makes it easier to stew in our mutually-assured misery.
There was a time when changelings only knew deception and subterfuge. That time ended long ago, and I'm thankful for that, as truly as you ponies preach, it really is better to be united in friendship, harmony, etc. I won't dwell on this paradigm shift, as we both are well aware of it. How quickly time flies, that I am of the generation that never suffered under the cruel queen. That is but history now for changelings, and there are not many left who remember her tempestuous reign. So maybe it's just these days we don't have that as a reference to compare to. We don't remember what a shitshow it was.
I guess what I'm saying is that maybe I should be thankful for what I have now.
But what I have now doesn't seem like something to celebrate. What we have. It takes two to tango, and we both suck at dancing. Which brings me back around: is this what we changed for? Is this what my ancestors fought to have? Because this doesn't feel like love.
This feels like a bad addiction.
You are an asshole. I am a leech. You are brutish and bossy and ungrateful to the highest degree. But I'm lethargic and complacent and also ungrateful. I mean, we've been over this in so many fights, so many yelling fests denouncing the other as the crappy end of a crappy relationship. Honestly I don't even care who's more at fault, who's worse these days. I'm so fucking over it. We both suck. There. I think we can at least agree on that.
So why on Harmony's green globe are we still together?
No really, ask yourself that. Why are we still together? What exactly is worth holding onto here.
Nothing, really. Honestly. Really really fucking brutally honestly, why are we together?
I, uh, I don't think either of us really likes the answer.
But.
Let's be honest. For once.
We've settled.
You've settled with a changeling who drains you and takes you for granted and too often is a self centered twat. Seriously, that I'm great in bed is literally the only thing I have going. I mean, almost every changeling is great in bed. This isn't a perk, it's a feature. I can't claim I'm a great lover, just an average one. I mean, yay, I guess?
Really, what else do I have going? I mean, I put up with you. That's great, I guess. Most lesser ponies certainly wouldn't. Good thing I'm not a pony. Ha. But really, is a dedication to absorbing your not-quite-abuse my greatest claim to suitableness as a mate? Ain't that sad? Ain't that pathetic?
And you. Goodness gracious, could I go on about you. How could a pony who once seemed so sweet act so sour? How could you have devolved into such an egg? Are you the same pony I fell in love with? I thought changelings were supposed to be the ones who put on airs. I thought we were supposed to be the deceptive ones. The fakers. But you, you are a hollow shell of everything I thought you were, and it sucks. Fuck you, Seriously, fuck you. You are a shame on the equine species. Being with you is the definition of settling. Forget the Hearths Warming Tale, I'm the one who's settling in Equestria.
Ha.
I wish this was funny.
I wish a lot of things. Mostly I wish we could pull our collective heads out of our collective rear ends long enough to admit how miserable we are. I wish we had the strength to look each other honestly in the eye and agree that this is no way of living. This is not what Faust wanted for us. This is not what brave ponies lost their lives for. This is not living. And this is certainly not love.
So why do we keep doing this to ourselves?
Weakness, I think? Complacency? Low standards? Low expectations? The cynical realization that neither of us probably deserves better, but more importantly, could even obtain better.
So we make do with what we have. We tell ourselves that this is still worth it, that this, in our one life on this Earth, in this one moment in time when we both are alive and breathing and real creatures built of flesh and bones, that this infinitesimally small slice of all time is best spent making each other misserable. Because we don't have the gumption to do anything else. We don't have the self-control or the self-respect to be better and seek better. So we settle.
Loving you isn't something great or inspired or wonderful. It's just a necessary evil.
Author's Note
