Unwelcome Thoughts

by AstralMouse

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Sad, Suicide / Self Harm, Pinkie Pie
Length: 5350

I know my family and friends would miss me if I was gone. To think otherwise is just silly. So... why are these stupid intrusive thoughts so convincing?

Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie. Sometimes, I wanna die, and that probably sounds super sad to you, and it should be super sad for me too. But when I think about the perfect way to go, it just... makes me smile.

And I really wish it didn't.

Content warning: suicide as a major theme

Published 2021-01-04 18:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-01-04 18:40:01 UTC

The perfect death

This is it. I'm finally gonna do it.

I wrote a note for the Cakes for when they find me, because it's not like I'm gonna be able to tell them anything. It's sitting all by itself on my desk, which looks kinda funny because I can't remember the last time it was so clean. But I made extra extra sure to make everything look nice and make it easy for them to clean up after me.

I'm sitting on the side of my bed on my fluffy pink comforter. Comfortable comforter. Hehe. There's also a noose hanging in front of me, made of plain brown rope, which is kind of boring, but I think I want to be a little boring now. I tilt my head up to where it's tied to the boring brown attic beam. I remember when I first moved in, I asked the Cakes if I could paint the whole room pink. Just the walls, they'd said. We don't wanna have to get paint off of the wood, especially in hard to reach areas. I gave them a sad face, like I was begging them to let me do it anyway. How selfish of me.

My eyes trail back down the rope to the noose. Just looking at it kinda excites me. Despite the crushing weight of defeat inside me, I can't help but smile. My heart races. Finally, a real solution to a big problem I could never fix before: me. And now, I can do something about it. I reach a hoof forward and touch the thing, almost reverently, to pull it to my face. It slips over my head easily, and my heart quickens further.

I want to cry, but I'm scared to, because I don't know if it'd be the selfish kind or the happy kind.

This is so easy. So, so, so easy. Easy peasy rubber chicken squeezy. I wonder why I couldn't just do this sooner. Just me being selfish, I guess. As always.

Pulling the knot tight until it's snug around my throat, I reflect on how I'm feeling. Relieved, mostly. A little giddy. Nervous, excited. The tightness feels overwhelmingly right, as if the universe itself is watching, nodding and smiling down at me. And my friends and family are there too, offering gentle encouragement. I can almost hear them telling me that it's okay. Go ahead, they say. This is what we want.

I just need to lean forward.

A sudden laugh comes from somewhere deep inside me, but not the funny ha-ha kind. I try to cut it short, but it's not something I can stop. So, I sit and, with stupid selfish tears in my eyes, I decide to let it run its course. Soon, I can't tell if I'm laughing or crying, but it doesn't matter too much. It needs out, so I let it out. My last laugh. The final funny. Whatever it is, there's no joke or fun, and it goes on way too long. Keeps going until my chest hurts, and my lungs burn, and my eyes feel like they're about to pop out. I'm so glad nopony is around to hear me. When it does finally taper off, I'm left panting and shaking.

I dunno what that was, but after taking a moment to recover, I decide that there's no sense in delaying the inevitable.

I smile. I can't tell if it's forced.

With one final calming breath, I tilt myself forward.

The rope tightens suddenly and uncomfortably, only hurting as much as I deserve. My rear hooves hold me up until I swing around a hundred eighty degrees, leaving them pointed back at the bed. Wheeee, that was kind of fun. My butt can't reach the floor, but my tail does, and it feels like I'm sitting on a cloud. Maybe this is what it's like to be a pegasus.

Almost all of my weight is supported by the creaking rope now. My legs twitch and weakly kick involuntarily, hooves sliding on the wood. Stupid legs, don't you know it's too late now? There is some pain and fear, but it's okay, because I know what's coming.

My head is foggy now, but deep down, I just know there's a brighter future for all the ponies who were unlucky enough to have met me. When they move on and stop thinking about me, it'll be like I never even happened. They'll be happier now.

And...

I just want them to smile.

Mr. and Mrs. Cake enter the bakery, presently closed for their errand day. They carry bags of groceries to the back to store in the ice chest and pantry.

"Pinkie, we're back!" Mr. Cake shouts. When there's no reply, he tries again. "Pinkie?"

"Huh, usually she comes right down," Mrs. Cake says. "I'll go check on her."

She heads up the stairs, calling for Pinkie, only to find her door cracked open.

"Pinkie? You here?" she asks as she slowly enters the room. "Oh!"

The sight of the hanging, lifeless body of Pinkie Pie catches her by surprise. She blinks as the situation sinks in, and a warm smile comes to her lips. "Finally did it, huh?" she says under her breath. Her voice is pleasant, a hint of pride beneath gentle acceptance.

A quick glance around the room later, she sees the note. Much of it is full of apology and genuine love for friends and family, and an earnest hope that they will be better off now. Mrs. Cake looks at Pinkie's still form and nods.

"Yes, we'll be okay. Thank you, Pinkie Pie," she says softly.

Mr. Cake's voice floats in from the stairway. "Everything okay, dear?" he asks.

"Better than okay," Mrs. Cake shouts back. "Come see!"

The stallion clomps up the steps, tired from the long day of carrying bags. As he enters, his eyes widen at the scene before him: Pinkie Pie, hanging from a rope and surely dead, and his smiling wife next to her. "Wow," he says simply. "She really did it. I really won't have to deliver her pies or keep track of the supplies she wastes anymore."

Mrs. Cake nods. "Isn't it wonderful?" she says.

Mr. Cake steps over and hugs his beloved wife. "Life without her is going to be so much better. It really was sweet of her to do this. I know she had said she would, but I was starting to doubt it," he says with a small titter. "I guess we should tell her friends the good news, then."

"Don't you mean the good noose?"

They share a warm moment of laughter.

Twilight Sparkle sits at the table in the castle map room. Her other friends are there too, except for Pinkie Pie. They're resting on their thrones with comfortable, knowing smiles.

"We've all heard about Pinkie Pie," Twilight says. There are small nods all around. "She's been a burden to us all for so long, and she's finally decided to lift that burden."

"Yeah, without her constantly bothering me, I've been able to keep the skies clear even on Wonderbolt training days!" Rainbow Dash says. "I really can't thank her enough."

"Oh, don't even get me started on how efficient my dressmaking has become," Rarity says with a small laugh. "For the first time in years, I'm actually ahead of schedule on my Canterlot orders."

Applejack snorts. "You ain't kiddin'. Workin' the farm without plannin' around a million birthday parties has been the best thing to ever happen to me. Haven't skipped a chore in days."

"Oh, and Gummy has been so happy at the sanctuary," Fluttershy says. "Poor thing was in awful shape when he came in. Being kept indoors and eating cake isn't good for a little gator like him. But all he needed was some sunshine and fresh fish, and now his scales are nice and shiny, and he's just full of energy."

"Well," Twilight says, "in honor of her decision, I think we should have a big thank-you party."

"As long as it's the last one, that's fine by me," Applejack says.

"Don't worry, it will be," Twilight replies. "Now, here's what I've got planned."

Ponyville's town square and adjacent park are bustling with activity. A pink banner hangs in front of town hall, proudly spelling out 'THANK YOU, PINKIE PIE' in large, bold letters. Picnic tables are covered by red tablecloths and stocked with tasty treats.

There are no balloons or party favors. No confetti or silly hats. Instead of personal invitations being given out, the party had been advertised on bulletin boards at local shops. Just plain white paper and plain black ink, tacked onto cork. Practical. Very Twilight. Like the advertisements, the event itself is not extravagant or loud. There is no music or joyful cheering. Despite being a party, it is certainly not a Pinkie Pie party. And that's a good thing.

Ponies enjoy themselves relatively quietly, gathering in small groups to talk about her.

"I loved her, but nothing she did ever really made up for how gosh darn inconvenient she was," Mrs. Cake tells her friends, and they nod in understanding. "She was really just too much of a drain on us."

"Between cleaning up her messes and watching the twins, I was just about at my wits' end, myself," Mr. Cake adds. "She loved trying to be helpful by babysitting, but if I'm honest, I always worried about their safety." There's a general murmur of agreement.

Elsewhere, Derpy Hooves sits at a table with Bulk Biceps. "I think almost half of my mail was party invitations," she says. "It was really hard delivering all that sometimes." The stallion pats her hoof comfortingly. He, too, knows the struggle of knowing Pinkie Pie.

Not far away, Gallus and Smolder occupy two chairs, engaged in their own conversation. "Kinda weird that our professor is gone," Gallus says.

"Yeah, but she did teach the dumbest class," Smolder says. "I mean, laughter? Who doesn't know how to laugh? Even dragons can do that."

"Good point. It was all just bad jokes and parties. First day of school, I thought I'd like that class because it'd be easy. But it's amazing how fast you can get sick of cupcakes and balloons."

"You're telling me. Even Ocellus got tired of studying for the tests."

The two share a short laugh before continuing. Every conversation around the party is much the same. They all love her. Of course they do. But she never really earned it, and loving a burden can be tiresome. Each fondly recalled memory of her comes with a but. It's clear to everyone that life will be better without her. Easier. More convenient. Less bothersome.

Twilight Sparkle approaches a podium and clears her throat into a microphone, gaining everyone's attention.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming to this celebration. We all know that there's just one problem left. She's dead, but she's not gone. Starlight and I have been working on a spell to fix that. So, now, if we can please have a moment of silence, I'm about to cast it."

The ponies at the party grow quiet, most of them closing their eyes. They remember her, one last time. Not fondly, but not with any malice either. Her image, different in the mind's eye of each individual, becomes murky and ill-defined. Not long after, there's just a name and the color pink.

The banner fades away. The tables and snacks disappear. The atmosphere itself loses its party vibe. Soon, the town square is just as it was the day before. Ordinary. Forgettable.

"What are we doing here?" a mare in the audience asks.

Twilight tilts her head. "I don't know," she replies, "but whatever it is, something tells me it's not all that important."

The crowd murmurs in agreement, dispersing to continue their daily routine.

Pinkie Pie's body and the rope suspending it, still untouched in her room, are transparent and dull in color. The pink walls slowly become an inoffensive off-white. Decorations fade, and are gone.

Ponies' strongest memories go first, then the subconscious impressions of her. Her color, her personality, the very concept of a "party pony."

When the most vague memories of her cease to be, so does she. All evidence that a pony ever lived in her room is gone.

The Cakes will be glad for the useful new storage space.

Life continues as usual, and nopony notices that the sky is just a little bit brighter than it was the day before. Ponies' smiles are just a little bit wider. Thoughts are a little bit more positive. Life is a little bit easier.

Pinkie Pie, the pony, the personality, the very concept, does not exist. She doesn't, but if she did... if she did?

She'd be smiling.

The fight

Nothing.

"Pinkie, you know we'd never say that."

Comfortable nothing.

"We love your parties."

Numbness.

"Imagine how much Pumpkin and Pound Cake would miss you."

No. Not all numbness. Pain, now.

"I've heard Gallus and Smolder talking to their friends between classes. You're one of their favorite professors."

Stupid pain. Go away. I wanna be numb.

"I still remember the first time I came to Ponyville. You were the first pony I met. Do you remember that?"

Who's talking? Twilight? Just... get away from me. You'll be better off.

"I do. Out of anypony in the whole town, it was you. How could I ever forget that?"

Stop. You're just hurting both of us.

"I don't want to forget that. You do believe me, don't you?"

Of course I do. But that doesn't mean I don't hurt you.

"After everything we've been through together, you have to know that we love you."

Of course you do. I know that. But...

But what?

There is no but. I know you all love me. But if I know that, then why am I so sure you'd be better off without me?

Why? Why do I believe something when I know it's not true?

I'm hanging from the noose again. Somehow, I simply stand myself up on my hind legs, and I can pull it right off.

I hold it in my hoof, looking at it again. This time, there's no giddy excitement or relief. The weight's all back on my shoulders, and this thing can't take it off anymore. I don't wanna be here.

I drop it, letting it swing in place, and leave the room.

Downstairs, I see Mrs. Cake bent over next to a table, brush underhoof, scrubbing furiously at a spot on the floor.

She growls. "I have just about had it with Pinkie Pie and her messes," she says. "I swear, if she didn't live here, we could just get so much more done."

I want to cry. I want to tell her that I tried. I tried, okay? Tried and failed. I tied up a noose and put it around my neck and I got rid of myself, but then I came back for some reason. And now I don't know if I can do it again.

The feelings in my chest want to push themselves up and out through my face. Let me sob and retch and get icky, gross snot everywhere.

There are some tears that I can't hold back, but I swallow the rest down, and I fight to control my unsteady breathing.

Eyes wet, I look at her. She speaks again, not looking up. "Because that's all you ever do, isn't it, Pinkie? Make messes for us to clean up."

A thought bubbles up in my mind. A truth. Something that I didn't want to believe when I was upstairs, but I can't deny it.

I take a long, deep breath and prepare myself.

"Mrs. Cake?" I say. She doesn't react, simply scrubbing and cursing me under her breath. A sad smile forms on my lips. "I know you don't really think that about me. You've never said anything like that."

Her scrubbing slows. Her anger fades. She looks neutral, eyes dead. The hoof with the brush moves in mechanical circles.

"And," I say, confidence faltering, "I know... no. I... think that you love me."

"Yeah," she says simply.

"I think that I mean something to you," I say.

Her motions regain life, and her lips turn up into a small smile. "Well, of course, dear," she says, still focused on the stain. "We're all one big happy family here."

My heart flutters at that as it catches a memory and hauls it to the forefront of my mind.

We're all one big happy family here.

I remember when she said that. It was last year, during a party. Somepony had asked if I really lived there with them, and she had smiled and said "Of course she does! We're all one big happy family here!"

And in her eyes, I can see the same sincerity that was present then, too. Then, and every other time she's said similar things.

When has she said those bad things before? She was mad at me when I broke her really expensive new oven. She was frustrated when I chewed a giant wad of bubblegum and blew a bubble and got it all over the shop right before opening time. She was disappointed in me when I made pies for friends instead of filling her carrot cake order.

The air around her thickens. Where before she was scrubbing in smooth circles, now there's a little tic each time she pulls the brush back. Her jaw is slightly tensed. Her smile looks forced. She wants to say something. Something bad.

I swallow down the panic that wants to return.

She forgave me for all of those things, though. I remember that, too, even if the anger is the part that's fresher in my mind. She forgave me, and she meant it.

Mrs. Cake relaxes. Scrub, scrub, scrub. She looks content again.

She really does love me.

Her hoof comes up, brush attached by its woven fabric strap, and she laughs. "Oh, dear me," she says between giggles.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well, I just realized there was never a stain here to begin with!" She laughs again, shaking her head. "Silly me. Silly, silly me."

No, she must be wrong. There was definitely a stain there. I remember seeing it. But when I look, it's nothing but a pristine hardwood floor. The soap and water are gone.

Mrs. Cake is gone.

I'm standing alone in the silent shop. The emptiness makes me want to go outside, so I go to the main entrance, stopping to glance back.

Maybe...

Maybe there was no stain.

Outside, the fresh air and warm sunlight are disappointing. Cranky Doodle Donkey is fussing with a cart full of junk that I know isn't really junk to him, but wouldn't look out of place in a trash heap.

"Hi, Cranky," I say.

"What do you want, kid?" he asks grumpily.

"Nothing. Just hi." I have to stop myself from saying more, because he obviously wants to be left alone. My friendship with him is still rocky at best, even after what I did for him. And that's okay. As long as he is my friend.

"Didn't you kill yourself?" he asks, still fiddling with his cart.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I'm back, though."

"That's too bad. I liked you better that way."

His words cut deep. "I'm sorry," I say, forcing my voice to remain level.

"Yeah, well, if you really were sorry, you'd do it again and stay gone."

Like with Mrs. Cake, I quickly search my memory.

"You've never really said that, though," I say.

"Never had to. I told you to leave me alone, didn't I? What did you think I meant by that?" Now, he's looking at me. Challenging me. Fresh tears force their way from my eyes, stinging uncomfortably. "So, leave me alone, kid." He returns to the cart, grumbling.

My jaw is wired shut by panic. Short breaths come through my nose. My cheeks are wet and matted. I stare at him, hoping for something to change. He acts as if I don't exist. Probably wishes I didn't.

The noose is still there. I can go back to it. I can still go back. It's not too late to fix this.

Leave me alone!

He did say it. He said those exact words. And he meant it. I know he did. The only way I can really, really, really leave him alone is to go back and kill myself. Do it right. Otherwise, I'll just talk to him again. Eventually. And he obviously doesn't want that.

I can't be trusted.

"Pinkie," a voice says. A hoof rests on my withers, painfully reassuring. "You know he didn't mean it like that."

It sounds like...

"Matilda?" I say. When I look up, she's there next to me, smiling. It's almost disorienting how warm and comforting her smile is. "I'm so sorry. He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, Pinkie. In fact, he likes you more than most ponies he meets. I'd even say he loves you."

"But he wants me to leave him alone."

"Sometimes, sure. But sometimes he likes seeing you," she says. She's right, I know. "He really, genuinely is your friend."

I know. I know he's my friend. I know, I know, I know! "I know!" I say. "I know he's my friend! Matilda..." Words catch in my throat, stopped by fear of admitting something stupid and making a fool out of myself.

She says nothing, but she hugs me. I can feel her smiling.

"So if I know he's my friend," I continue, "why does it feel like he's not? Why am I so sure that he wants me to..." I bury my face against Matilda, feeling guilty for getting her wet with my stupid, useless tears.

"Kill yourself," Cranky says.

There's a fresh stab to my heart.

"That's not him, Pinkie," Matilda says in my ear. But, it's not just her voice. It feels like the voices of all of my friends, family, and acquaintances. Every rational outside perspective seems to agree, despite the clear reality of what's before me.

I look at him more closely, grunting with frustration as he moves objects around. He's just like I remember him.

Or, is he only like I remember him?

Closer inspection reveals some details are muddy or missing. How many nose hairs are sticking out from his nostrils? Five? Six? I can't count them, because they seem to shift with my thoughts. What is the stuff in his cart he's fussing over? Baubles and trinkets? No, those are just words I like. The actual physical things have no discernible form for more than a split second at a time.

The longer I stare, the more he looks like some minimalistic blur that just represents him.

"Kill yourself," he says again. He means it, but he only means it because I believe he means it. And he's only Cranky because I'm convinced he is. He's just a fake.

Where's the real Cranky?

"You're not Cranky," I say, pressing my hoof into the dirt.

"'Course I am. Now, leave me alone and go kill yourself."

Why is he so convincing? By every real measure, he's a fake. I know he is. Why won't he go away?

"No, you're not," I say. "The real Cranky Doodle Donkey isn't here. And if he doesn't tell me to kill myself, then you can't either!"

Still an odd blur of impressions, he replies. "Leave me alone, kid."

"Okay, and even if I leave you alone, we're still friends," I say. It's not a question. It's the truth.

"'Course we are."

And that's that. He's simply gone.

I wander through Ponyville's empty streets. Despite the lack of ponies around, it doesn't feel lonely.

A shadow moves across the ground, and with a jarring whump, a familiar and terrifying sight lands in front of me.

"Hey, dweeb," Gilda says.

Deep in my heart, I'm happy to see her again, if only for some foolish idea that we're actually friends. "Gilda!" I say.

"Outta may way. I got places to be," she says.

I look around. The street is plenty wide for her to pass by me. I step aside anyway. "It's good to see you," I tell her, hoping beyond hope that she feels the same.

Her eyes narrow. "Good to see me? After what you did to me? After you pretended to be my friend, then left me alone to get teased by other griffons for trying to be nice?"

"But I thought th—"

"No! You ruined my life!"

I frown deeply. "Then we're not still friends?"

"We never were."

The words hurt. Weren't we friends last time I saw her? What if she lied just to make me leave? What if I really did hurt her?

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" I ask.

She glares at me. "No. Nothing you ever do will be good enough," she says.

My heart feels crushed, like a boulder's just rolled over it. "Not even if I threw a million super-duper fun parties for you?" I ask.

Her face scrunches into a snarl. "I wouldn't be friends with you, ever! You're a waste of space."

I want to be back at the rope, where I can disappear.

"Would it make you happy if I killed myself?" I ask, unable to keep the stupid words from pouring out of my heart.

She smirks and nods. "Hey, yeah. Do it. It's all you're good for."

I find that I believe her. It really is what she wants. And that makes me want it too. I obviously really hurt her, and the best way to make it up to her is to do the only nice thing for her that I can.

"Okay," I say, keeping my voice level. I can't get all cry-ey now and make her think I'm just looking for sympathy. "I will. You can come watch, if you want."

In the time it takes me to blink, she is already holding popcorn and a folding chair. And the best thing is, she's smiling.

My heart flutters a bit in joy. Finally, a real positive difference I can make. My life is so worthless that it feels like a miracle that I can use it to actually do some good. I turn and begin heading back, only to bump into something large and purple.

"Pinkie," it says. Well, it turns out it's Twilight that I bumped into. She's smiling sadly and shaking her head. "She's not worth it."

I tilt my head, confused. "What do you mean? My life has no value to me, but if I go hang myself, it can have value to her. That should be like some kinda basic math for you, Twilight," I say, gesturing at Gilda. She's already got a beakful of popcorn, and she's nodding.

"Your life has value to me. To us," Twilight says. She smiles reassuringly.

Behind her, Applejack and Rarity fade in from seemingly nowhere, both with the same kind of smile. Then, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy. Then, my family. Marble, Limestone, Maud, Boulder, Mom, and Dad. More appear, too, spreading like a slow ripple. Mr. and Mrs. Cake, their lovely twins, Cranky and Matilda, all of my students, and just about everypony in Ponyville.

And they all have the same smile as Twilight.

My heart wrenches as I consider them all. They're already smiling. Because of me. I look back at Gilda.

"Well?" she asks. "Gonna kill yourself or not?"

I turn back to the impressive crowd of family and friends, tears in my eyes. If I do what Gilda wants, then all those smiles will go away.

"How..." I say, choking up. "How could I have forgotten about all of you?"

Gilda walks in front of me, trying to keep my friends from my view, but it's too late for her. There are too many of them now for me to forget. I push her to one side, and she squawks and shrieks, but her voice is distant and unimportant now.

"I forgot about all of you when I really just needed to forget about her," I say.

Twilight has tears in her eyes, and a bigger smile than before. "I'm so proud of you, Pinkie."

I close my own eyes and rush forward, gripping her in a hug.

And the world around me melts away.

The way forward

I wake up in her bed, hooves wrapped around her, with fresh tears stinging my eyes. I can tell I've been crying for some time now. It takes a few moments for the shock of what I just experienced to wear off.

A thin, silvery string of light that connects my horn to her forehead recedes back into me, and the light fades away.

With the spell canceled, she opens her eyes, which are also wet with tears.

"Pinkie..." I say.

"I'm so sorry, Twilight, I shouldn't have asked you to—"

I shush her with a gentle press of a forehoof to her lips, shaking my head. "No, Pinkie, I'm glad you shared this with me."

There's a moment where she's struggling with what to say, clearly wanting to argue. But, she settles on a simple "Okay."

"When you told me about it, I had no idea it was this bad," I say.

She nods. "These thoughts show up every now and then, and it's always... hard. I can't just make them go away. Not without... well, you saw. It's like a big, nasty fight in my own head. And I didn't wanna make anypony else have to see it. I didn't wanna be selfish."

I hug her tighter. "Pinkie, sharing your burdens with your friends is not selfish, and I would never take any of this back. I'm glad you came to me."

Her lip quivers, and she sobs quietly for a moment before she can reply. "I just hate it, Twilight. I hate it. I hate how much I doubt my friends, and I hate how easy it is to forget about them, and I hate how stupid it is but how m—" she says, stopping to gasp for air, "how much I believe it! When it happens, it feels like you all h-hate me, and I just wanna disappear like... like I did."

I stroke her mane in the most reassuring way I can as she presses her face into the crook of my neck. "Sshhh, sshhh, it's okay, Pinkie. I'm here. I know how real it feels now. I was there, remember?" I say. She nods against me and I can hear her swallow a lump of sadness down. "You'll always have your friends."

A muffled "Thank you," comes up from my chestfluff.

"It won't necessarily be easy, but you've been facing this alone for... most of your life?" I ask. There's another nod from her, followed by a sniffle. "We'll get through it together, now. We all love you, and nothing is gonna change that. You're more than worth it."

We spend some time in silence, with her pressed against me while she recovers. Eventually, as her breathing becomes steady again, I remember how convinced she was that her friends really wanted her gone. How hard it was to remember that it's not true. How much it helped to be reminded.

"You've made such a positive difference in so many ponies' lives, Pinkie," I say, petting her mane just liked my mom used to do for me when I had a bad nightmare. "We would all be crushed if you... well, you know. You're definitely not a burden to us. Any of us. And I'm so happy to have a friend like you. You believe me, right?"

Pinkie pulls back from me with a sad smile and nods.

And in her eyes, there's a glint of hope.