It's three A.M.
Time to start.
I get out of bed, my four hooves touch the carpeted floor of my bedroom. The sensation is soft against my hooves as I relinquish a breath held deep within my chest. It's finally time. Finally I've worked up the courage to just do it and get it over with. There's no going back.
And everypony else will be better off this way.
I don't take any time to look at my mane in the mirror. I simply sling my saddle bag over my back and take a moment to shake the never-ending exhaustion from my eyes. I'm lucky that I was never one for many material possessions. I was able to pack most of my life into this bag. Lyra will keep the shop running after I'm gone. It's a good business. Maybe she will be able to finally get that pool she always wanted.
I place a hoof on the door of my bedroom, turn it, and step out into the hall. Lyra's bedroom door is cracked open, but based on the gentle snores coming from her room, I have nothing to worry about. I walk down the hall, past the bathroom, past the closet, and try to ease my weight into each step as I move past Lyra's room. There's no sense in worrying her. The note should tell her all she needs. Besides, it's not like I'll be dead.
The steps feel more freeing with each step, as if each step lets go of a little weight that's been shackled to one of my hooves. The feeling is more numbing than fulfilling though. Every movement feels as if it's being done by somepony other than me, and I'm off in the bleachers, watching the most boring reality show that's ever been aired.
I unlock the front door, open it, and then close it quietly behind me. I'd lock it, but I didn't bring a key with me. I don't need it where I'm going.
The dark streets of Ponyville are desolate at this time of night, the only onlookers being the stars in the sky. Oh what they must think, watching down at my little melodrama. Thank goodness for the rotation of the planet, that way they get the chance to change the channel once in a while. The dirt crunches underneath my hooves as I walk across the worn paths of my hometown. In a way, I take in each and every little thing I see, looking to make one last final impression of the life that I'm leaving behind. The ponies I may never see again. The ponies I'll never let down again. I take a moment to stop and smell the petunias from my neighbors down the street. The pink and purple flowers, whose colors remind me of my own mane, draw the eye of every pony that walks up and down my little street. Or at least, they always have for me. I'd have no idea what does or doesn't stay on the mind of normal ponies. But the flowers smile back at me, and I give one of my few smiles of the day back at them.
"I'll miss you," I say to the flowers. I'm tempted to pick one, but my mind makes a mental connection to some sort of symbolism that might form and what that means about me as a pony. I do my best to stifle the thought and refuse to tear apart one of the few things I love.
Instead, I keep my sight forward and focused. I continue to walk, feeling a boiling deep down in my stomach. I reach to the side of my bag and pull out a small water bottle I have for travel, and take a deep drink. I taste the gin fill my mouth and wash down my throat, burning me from the inside. I welcome the feeling like a long lost friend, and I can already feel the aching feeling in my limbs begin to subside.
With a deep breath, I step in front of the building I had my sights set on. The train station. I put my bottle back in my bag and instead take out my ticket for the night train. The train is set to arrive in Ponyville at 3:15, and I was right on time. I step onto the platform, feeling the alcohol beginning to flow through my system. My mind goes blank as I plant my flank to hold onto my balance. I hate that I've always been such a lightweight. All I wanted was to ease my nerves, and now I'm going to be drunk. Great job, BonBon. At least that'll make it easier not to turn back.
The rumbling of the Friendship Express echoes off in the distance, a large, dimmed light on the very front of the train guides its way forward in the early morning air. I let a faint smile form on my lips, although my ears turn down. I feel terrified. I feel determined.
I'll get on this train, and I'll never come back. That's the plan. I'll get on this train and just go until the final stop. Then, I'll walk. I'll walk until nopony knows my name. Then, I can be Saddlesong. I can live privately in my own thoughts where nopony will worry. Where I can't let anypony down. Where I can finally find my own worth.
I take another deep breath and stifle that thought. I reach into my bag for my small tube of capsules. I take one out, and wash it down with some of the gin. As I stow the tube back into my bag, I brush against one of the things I packed. A small doll, from my childhood. Tears well in my eyes involuntarily as I lock the bag.
This is the right thing to do.
The train's wheels squeal as the train makes its way to the landing. I rise to my hooves and walk towards the back train car. A train conductor steps out onto the platform, but I step inside the car before he even realized I was there. That's fine. I'd rather be alone right now anyway. Or, I probably should be alone.
I find the nearest empty train compartment and stow myself inside, closing the door behind me.
There. Now all I do is wait. And I'll be gone.
I take off my bag and toss it on the seat opposite of me. I lay down on the bench and stare upward at the ceiling of the train car, feeling the alcohol beginning to ease my tired body and my exhausted mind. I take a deep breath and talk aloud to the ceiling.
"Well, this is it," I say softly. "I'm not going to be a pain to anypony anymore. No more 'Bad Mood Bonbon.'"
I chuckle at the name I gave myself. Sadly, it stuck.
"I'll find somewhere completely new, and just... hit the reset button," I mutter.
The stagnant air of the musty old train car fills my senses and I can't help but wrinkle my nose. I suppose I could put my ticket in the door and try to sleep. That way the train conductor can take my ticket and go back to dealing with important things. It would be the best way to make me less of a burden on him.
I take a deep breath, trying to find the will to sit back up from my resting place. Right as I was getting comfortable at that. Maybe I'm just lazy. Finally I put a hoof down and push myself up.
Then I watch my bag make a small hop.
I pause, staring at my own bag. What was that?
The bag wiggles in place, and I hear a small squeak from inside.
Did a rat get into my bag? Or a mouse or something? Is this train car infested or something?
I reach over and open my bag as a small creature pops out. I give a tiny yelp and jump back in my seat as the small creature breathes deeply and coughs to itself.
"You really should put some holes in that bag, Bonbon," it says in a feminine squeak of a voice. "A pony can barely breathe in there."
My mouth opens slightly as I watch two little hooves poke themselves out, and my doll from when I was a child leaps out of the bag. Her brown cloth mane moves almost as if it were an actual mane, and her path ridden legs move as if she were a real pony. Her two brown button eyes have a sense of life to them, spinning and turning in a way that inferred she were actually taking in her environment.
"Raggie?" I ask.
She turns to me and nods.
"Who else would I be, silly? I've been at your bedside ever since you were a little filly. Now! Where are we going?" she asks.
She dangles her hind legs off of the seat as I relax.
"I think I drank more than I realized," I mutter. "This can't be happening."
"Well," says Raggie cheerily. "It is. So instead of thinking about what is happening, let's focus on what will happen. Cause what will be is way more fun that what has. What will happen can still won't or may even never! So where are we going?"
I take a moment to properly process what my childhood doll said to me. Her words both seem to make perfect sense, but also don't. As if the meaning behind her words are totally visible, yet just outside of my grasp.
"You're a talking doll," I say. "And nothing is wrong with that. I'm probably going crazy."
"Crazy is way more fun," Raggie says. "The normal day to day gets boring and tiring. Sometimes a shakeup is all that's needed to put a fresh new spin on things. Oh! I got it! We're going on vacation, aren't we? Where's the vacation? The beach? The forest? I love camping! We better watch for bushes though." Raggie then points to a solid blue patch on the back of her front right hoof. "We both know how that went."
"Yeah," I mutter. "I was seven, and we ran through the woods with Lyra and the girls. We swore we saw a timberwolf, but it was just a dead tree."
"But it was the scariest dead tree we've ever seen," Raggie says, swinging her hind legs in opposing directions. "And you learned how to sew patches! You've always had a knack for picking up new skills."
I chuckle and lay down.
"This is the dumbest thing I've ever done. Talking to a doll."
"You didn't think so when you were little," she retorts. "And there are way worst mistakes that you could make."
"Yeah?" I ask. "Like what?
"Staying on this train."
I blink. I sit up once again and look at her, smiling back at me innocently, swinging her hind hooves in the air.
"What did you say?"
"Staying on this train is a really dumb decision. Way dumber than talking to a doll."
"No, it's not," I retort, anger in my voice. "Besides, what do you know, you're a doll."
"Really? Then, tell me. What are you accomplishing by leaving on this train?"
"Everypony is going to be way happier this way. They're finally getting rid of the town grouch. The group buzzkill. Ponyville is better off this way."
My eyes move to the wall, away from my childhood doll.
"It's not like I was doing anything of any worth anyway."
"Do you really believe that?" Raggie asks.
I remain silent, looking away.
"Do you see this patch?" Raggie asks me.
I look back to her, as she points to a small circle around her hind leg.
"Do you remember this?" she repeats.
"Yeah," I say.
"Then tell me how I got it."
"There was a puppy that Lyra's family adopted when we were fillies," I explain monotonously. "I brought you over so we could play, and the puppy thought you were a toy and bit your leg off."
"And then?" Raggie says.
"I made a patch and then it was fixed."
"No, it wasn't that simple," Raggie chides. "The puppy ate my leg. So you went to the craft store and got a matching cloth and sewed me a new leg, then you put me back together."
"Yeah, but anypony would for their doll."
"Do you think so?" Raggie asks. "Are you sure other ponies wouldn't just throw the doll away and get a new one?"
I remain silent as Raggie leaps to her hooves and stretches out the leg she was talking about.
"You fix things that you care about, Bonnie. You don't like to throw things away. You don't give up. So, where are we going?"
"The end of the line," I say, looking away.
"Why?"
"Because there's nothing here for me. I have nothing to gain."
"Do you really think that?" Raggie asks. "You've gotten in a really bad habit of lying lately. What would Mom and Dad say?"
"That's not a lie!" I growl. "And don't bring them into this."
"Do they know you're leaving?"
"They'll get the note from Lyra."
"Oooh," Raggie groans. "Come on, Bonnie. Not even a visit? Not even a call?"
"I don't have anything here, Raggie."
"You have family. You have friends. Those sound pretty important to me."
I bite my bottom lip and blink water from my eyes.
"Where are we going?" asks Raggie.
"I don't know," I reply. "Anywhere but here."
"Why?"
"Because I can't take it anymore!" I shout at the small ragged doll. "Is that what you want to hear? That I can't stand the feeling of waking up every morning? That I can't stand the feeling of another sleepless night? That I'm tired of the same day in-day out judgement? That I'm tired of accidentally hurting other ponies’ feelings? That I'm broken and I don't know how to fix myself so I just don't want to be anypony's burden anymore?"
I feel my limbs tremble as my chest rises and falls. The back of my throat feels raw and I can taste copper in my mouth. I blink, and Raggie smiles back at me.
"So, then you want to be alone? You think that being alone will fix the way you feel?" Raggie asks.
"Yes," I reply. "Well, no."
"Which is it?" she interrupts.
"I don't know, but at least nopony will worry about me anymore."
"Really?"
"Well, I won't worry about other ponies, worrying about me. I don't know," I groan, pounding the seat with my hoof, feeling the frustration well in the pit of my stomach. "What's your point?"
"Well, here's what I think," Raggie says. "If I somehow got a cut on my hoof, or my back, or my mane... I don't think being alone is going to solve it."
"I'm not a doll, Raggie."
"I know, but... hear me out," she says. "If I leave a tear in my body alone, I might lose some stuffing, but over time, that tear is going to grow and grow. It's not just going to heal all by itself. And I might not be able to reach the tear to fix it. I can't do this alone."
I glare at the small pony doll.
"I need somepony to help fix the tear. To help me sew a patch. Sure, I might tear again, but it happens. I can't just run away and hide in order to never tear again. It's not much different from you."
My hooves tremble as my gaze moves down to my lap. I blink, and salty tears run down my face.
"I've..." I say, gathering my composure. "Got a pretty big tear, Raggie... I don't know what caused it... but I can't fix it. And it hurts."
Raggie leaps from her seat onto my lap. I feel the familiar plush, the cotton stuffing hugging tightly onto one of my hooves.
"I'm always here for you, Bonnie. Even if you don't realize it."
The alarm rings and I quickly silence it.
It's three A.M.
Time to start.
I rise from my bed and look to my bedside table, where a small plush pony, covered in differently colored patches smiles just widely as the day I first got her as a filly. I look down to the floor.
My rope.
I grab Raggie and get out of bed. I open the door and head down the hallway to Lyra, who snores gently from her bedroom.
I knock on the door twice, loudly.
"Zzzznrk- Wha? I'm up. Is it time to open the shop? I'm not late." she groans, flailing her hooves.
"Lyra, are you awake?"
"I'm totally awake. I'm only... huh? It's three A.M."
"I... I really need to talk to somepony," I say, gripping the doll in my hooves.
Author's Note
You're not alone. Confidential help is available for free.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Call 1-800-273-8255 -- Available 24 hours everyday
