The Rainbow Footnote

by PinkieDP

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Sad, Original Character, Suicide / Self Harm, Fluttershy, Twilight Sparkle, Discord
Length: 1187

What is the first thing you think of when you see an asterisk?

What is the first thing you think of when you see an asterisk?

Maybe that means that there are conditions to something you have to agree too, or it’s the signal of a footnote at the bottom of the page, or it means there is an exception to the rule. Therein lies the Question: What is your first thought of a pony with an asterisk for a cutie mark, in rainbow colors?

Gay?  Possibly, but that still leaves the crossroad.  Is this individual pony an overlooked footnote, or an exception to a predefined rule?

This is the story of a mare who goes from the former, to the latter.

Published 2019-06-17 02:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-06-17 02:50:02 UTC

A rough start

2:45 AM, Friday morning.
“Ugh…”
The old spring mattress under me pops and crinkles quietly as I roll onto my side to check my glowing red alarm clock.
“Another half rested night it seems…” I said with a tired, frustrated sigh.
I rub the bags under my eyes softly with a grey hoof as I re position the clock on it’s little stand. Like usual, whenever I wake up in this hellhole, the wire always manages to try to drag itself over to the side.. I give a small stretch and a soft groan in my undersized bed to ease the ache in my back legs.

Every night it seems like I sleep a little bit worse, sometimes I’ll sleep through the whole night and I’ll still feel tired. Or nights like this one where I’ll wake up halfway through. Either way I slog through the day, first I have to…

“Get up…” I commanded myself.

Another tired groan, and a swing to a sitting position later, and I’m more or less functional. I blearly meandered across the room to where I thought my light switch was, and with a flick of the hoof, it’s on.

I then pilot myself to my desk, plopping down on my spinny chair and gazing back on my tousled visage in the vanity mirror. My mane is a disaster, crusts forming in the corners of my half squinting eyes, bags just visible under them, half hidden by my steel gray fur. I tear open one of the granola bars I keep on my work desk and begin to fix myself.

First, the wide brush filled with green and orange strands. Once my mane is under control, I roughly rub my eyes, dislodging all the gunk that had formed there, a little concealer for the bags. Then the contacts go in and I’m back to looking like my normalish self.

It takes me a minute to force myself away. I consider myself for a few minutes, as I sometimes do.

I am a young, but tall pony, with grey fur, a vibrant green and orange mane, and a small unassuming steel piercing in one ear. I also had striking blue eyes, with a small ring of gold around the pupils. Those eyes drift downward slightly to my matching tail and the mark on my haunches that causes quite a stir.

A simple, slightly pixelated rainbow asterisk.

I was “lucky” enough to receive my mark at birth, although I and everyone else around me don’t have a clue about what it’s supposed to mean. Well I’ve figured out part of it, no small thanks do to the fact that I am about as straight as a strand of wet spaghetti. Closeted of course I have enough daily trouble as it is.

Regardless, I find the resolve to push away from the desk and spin around to face the rest of my room.

Red walls, my choice years ago. I was regretting it now, a barely large enough bed., a small bookshelf next to my door, assorted clothing on the floor and a bright orange toolbox sitting beneath the windowsill. Glancing out the window reveals the expected, near pitchblack, along with a silhouette of the house across the roughly hewn street. Another glance at the clock revealed I’d manage to waste about an hour all told, Celestia help me the sun couldn’t take longer to rise. In the name of efficiency I just decide to get a jump on things. So I flick my lights off and pad softly across the carpet of the loft, quietly moving down the stairs and flicking the lights on in the family kitchen.

***

A few hours, some toast and a sunrise later and I’m in my aging jet black miracle of science and magic vehicle heading to school, my trademark black and orange headphones resting on my neck. The cap in a morning routine that I’ve been performing with less and less success each two week cycle. Find a space, and scurry inside. Find the right room for the schedule and plop my grey butt down, right next to one of the only ponies I can really call a friend anymore, Diesel.

Despite his rough sounding name he’s very kind. He Wears a leather jacket, slicked back hair, a slight limp and is otherwise a living Italian-Equestrian stereotype and he embraces it with a passion. If I had a Bit for every time he or someone else would joke about his family being in the mob, I’d be quite the wealthy pony..

“Hey Pix, Howya doin buddy?”

With that I either want to scream or break something, that's not my damn name! Instead I give a small sigh and an imperceptible wince, trying to my best to look like I don’t hate every minute of my life. Everytime I’m forced to lie to ponies, it gets harder and harder to accomplish. Thankfully, no one had noticed so far.

“Not bad man, I had a rough night. More of the same, school is taking a bit of a toll on me”

Even with that small line I want to either bite my tongue, cry or throw up, every word is a complete lie, but no matter, as long as I don’t call attention to the physical or emotional scars or make it seem like I’m being defensive no one will know. How has it that nopony had figured it out by now?

“Work, school, all that. Fun fun fun. Homework I can’t find answers for and not enough sleep”

While not lies, more half-truths. Disguising the real reason I can’t sleep or focus on anything anymore. Why I’ve slowly been feeling less and less enjoyment for things I used to love to do, Dammit Wave stop talking!

“Anyway how’ve you been?”

***
The day continues on as usual, classes, lunch, more classes and then the final few minutes before the bell dismisses me.

I always dread this. The few minutes and the drive home at the end of the day, leaving me with too much time to think about things. Thinking about what flavor and brand of hell the rest of the night would be.

As the clock hands line up I take a deep breath, jingling my keys so I know they’re there and then rubbing my hooves together nervously, not looking forward to the next few hours.All within the familiar routine.

As I’m stepping out the front door of the school, I dimly remember that tomorrow is Saturday. My mood kicks down another degree. The first and third weekend of the month are usually the worst days. As I walk down to my vehicle, I have to bite my tongue in order to bat down another wave of tears. I’d been keeping an eye on Him and I knew something was bound to happen sooner or later. I had learned over the years to trust my gut. Up went what ramshackle walls I could build. I can’t run yet.

The key turns and off I go, for another night with the devil.