Another long day at the office, needlessly holding the hooves of qualified ponies for work they should know how to do.
But I can't rest now.
Being the one responsible for the company, I'm too busy to rest.
Even now, at the midnight hour, I still cannot rest.
It's exhausting, in all honesty.
I walk into my apartment, looking around.
Tidy, as per usual.
I've always kept it that way.
A force of habit, I suppose.
Entering my office, I sigh, seating myself.
This office is practically where I live now.
I have my father to thank for that.
I look at my phone, checking for missed calls or texts.
Of course, there are none.
I wonder why Pinkie Pie hasn't returned any of my calls.
She's probably mad at me for something or other.
Most ponies are, after all.
I put the phone away, letting that matter rest.
I turn on my computer, watching it start up slowly.
As I stare, I find myself drawn to the framed photograph on my desk.
That photograph was taken back when I was going to business school.
I remember the place clearly...
I remember the first time I arrived here.
My luggage was thrown at me, along with the final parting words 'Do well and you can visit'.
After that, I was left on my own.
The other foals were uninteresting to me.
I made no effort to hide my distaste for them.
But for some reason, they kept surrounding me, trying to get my attention.
Even when I told them I had no interest in befriending them or getting to know them, they still surrounded me.
Eventually, I forced myself to make friends, if only to use them later on.
And I became one of the most popular ponies in the entire school.
But I also became one of the most feared.
It started when I was being bullied by some colt who thought he was the very best.
It got to the point that one day, I decided to stand up for myself.
I asked him if he wanted to fight.
He said yes, and so a time was set to meet up, after classes in the courtyard.
We met up at the correct time and got ready to fight.
He attacked first, trying to get the jump on me.
Luckily, I had been taking self-defense classes in secret to guard myself against my fathers' drunken rages.
I turned his weight against him and he tripped.
As he did so, I kicked him towards the wall.
He bumped up against it, trying to catch his breath.
Then he punched me in the face.
I don't know exactly what happened after that, but I do know one thing.
I became aware of my surroundings and noticed that my hooves were bloody and several teachers were restraining me.
He was lying on the ground, completely still.
He didn't seem to be breathing, either.
I was brought to the headmasters' office.
I sat on a hard chair, staring at the desk of the headmaster as he did paperwork.
He looked up and said that I had almost killed somepony.
I defended myself by saying that he had been bullying me consistently.
I've always had the ability to be a smooth talker.
Some say I learned it from my father.
So I turned the headmaster against the colt whom I had almost killed.
Instead of getting expelled, I got that colt expelled.
I never learned his name.
I break out of my trancelike state.
I find myself in my kitchen.
I must've walked here without realizing it.
I do that often, now.
I sigh, looking around.
The shelves are stocked with as much food as they could handle.
Sadly, I don't find much use for the food I buy.
Usually, I'm too busy working to bother making my own food.
I walk into the living room, thinking I might as well watch television since I'm not going to be able to focus on my work.
I turn it on, watching the news.
My father always stated that any good businesspony watched the news and business channels.
He told me that doing so would result in the knowledge of what needed to be done for a business to be successful.
My father was correct in that one statement.
I allow my eyes to rest upon the flowers on my living room table.
They remind me of when Father died.
I can't say I was grief-stricken about my father dying.
It was the consequences of his death that I grieve about.
Father was always beating my mother when he was drunk, then beating me.
Whenever I'd try to stand up to him, he'd always give me the belt, if not his hooves.
It taught me how to be tougher than everypony else.
My mother was the only one I cared about in my family, or even in the world, to be honest.
But Father was the only pony who cared about her, or so he said, so she forced herself not to leave him.
When he died, she began to truly believe what he had said was true.
I tried to convince her otherwise, but she never listened.
She'd get angry, yell at me, or even beat me sometimes whenever I tried to tell her we didn't need Father.
And she began to drink herself into a stupor as well.
I remember when we finally had the funeral that she brought a 2-litre bottle of vodka to it.
She ended up drinking it all by the end of the day.
One day, I came back from the job I had to find my mother... Dead.
When the doctors did an autopsy after I called the Emergency Services, they found a large amount of alcohol in her bloodstream.
They also found several deep cuts at the base of her hooves, one seeming to be twice as deep as the others.
They said the loss of blood from that cut was what killed her.
I remember putting roses, just like the ones in my apartment, on their grave.
They were buried together, as they had wished.
From that moment forward, I dedicated my life to my work.
I come out of a trance again, standing in my bedroom.
I must have dozed off again.
I really need to work on that.
I look down at my hoof, noting that I had taken yet another possession of mine off the wall.
It seems to be an ornate picture frame, embroidered in silky gold.
Inside, it has a picture of a silver, topaz-encrusted ring.
I think back to that time.
The one time in my life I was truly happy, even if only for a few moments.
I remember purchasing that ring for Pinkie Pie.
She was the mare of my dreams, although she was the polar opposite of me.
I suppose that's why I loved and still love her.
I had gone to the best jeweler store in Canterlot that I could find to get the perfect ring.
It took me almost an entire day to choose it.
It was priced at 12'000 bits.
It was probably the most expensive thing I have ever bought, but in my opinion at the time, it was worth it.
The very next day, I was practically bouncing with excitement at the proposal I was going to be giving.
I wore my best clothing, the clothing I usually wore for business trips.
I even took a full day off work without saying I had to get back.
I took Pinkie on a date in Canterlot.
We shopped, indulged in the finest food, and even went to a dance club that Pinkie desperately wanted to go to.
After all of this, I took her to our favourite place in Equestria, in front of the Everfree Forest.
Finally, as Princess Celestia began to lower the sun and as Princess Luna began to raise the moon, I proposed to her.
I told her I loved her and that she was the only mare for me.
When she accepted my proposal, I knew this was the happiest moment in my life.
I awake from my thoughts, noticing I am now standing at the door to my apartment..
I sigh, wondering where Pinkie is right now.
I do so wish that I could simply speak to her again.
It has been a week since she stopped texting or calling me.
Not only that, but I haven't seen her, either, so she must be avoiding me.
Sometimes, I don't understand why those close to me end up avoiding and ignoring me.
I open the door, walking into the hallway.
Without my choosing to do so, I begin to walk to a door opposite the stairwell.
I stop at the entrance, realizing this is Pinkie's apartment.
She bought it because she wanted to move closer to me and yet still stay close to the Sweets shop she runs in Canterlot.
It was a nice gesture, to be perfectly honest.
But it's the only nice gesture I've seen towards me.
Truly, it seems most prefer to push me away, rather than accept me.
I don't exactly see why I am the sole pony whom everypony else HATES.
I deserve to be respected and liked just as much as Pinkie, just as much as the Princesses, just as much, IF NOT MORE than EVERYPONY ELSE.
My mind set, I attempt to open Pinkie Pies' door.
It opens, for some strange reason not being locked.
I enter the room.
"Pinkie? Are you home?" I ask out loud to no avail.
I walk further into the room.
I stare at her counter, noticing that there are many dirty dishes in the sink.
I stop at the door to her bedroom, knocking on the door.
It opens without a sound.
I see Pinkie in the room.
My memories come back.
The smell of blood fills the air.
Pinkie lies unmoving in a puddle of it.
"Oh, hello, Pinkie Pie. I've come back to visit you," I say, picking up a knife I had brought here from my kitchen and approaching her corpse.
"Aren't you happy I did?"
