If you’re asking me, “Sunset, my goodness, why are you doing this!?” then you’d be disappointed to hear that I didn’t really think of why or even how. I just go along with whatever it is I have in mind. Live in the present and forget about the past, therefore the future won’t be such a monstrosity to face.

Yes, random passerby, I’m sorry you’re disappointed. Not that you can express it with how tasty you are.

Yes, dear society, I don’t care about anything anymore. You can’t stop me from being ignorant because you’ve been wasting your past few centuries of existence thinking about awareness. Think about that. Or maybe don’t, just do whatever you want. You don’t really need a reason to do anything anyway, your entire existence is based upon a made-up concept of order and harmony. You may as well stop existing if you need an absolute reason to do anything. Maybe that’s something you’ve thought about? Maybe it’s the one thing that keeps you from stopping me destroy you?

Whatever it is, say goodbye to Canterlot and my care.

Say goodbye to everypony who lives there.

Say goodbye to my beloved wife and everypony in the rehabilitation center.

Say goodbye to me as I walk away from the great campfire that I’ve set up, say goodbye to me as I eat the marshmallows that I’ve deliciously cooked.

Take me home, country roads, to the place where I won’t care!

You’ve taken from me any form of respite I need from this unforgiving world, and so let me drink and munch on what respite I’ve managed to make for myself. Fuck off, dear world, and let me eat marshmallows.

Author's Note

I finished this fic months ago and was like, "Mate don't publish this let it rot in hell where it belongs"

Have I gotten wiser or more insane? The only line separating them is this bottle of vodka and all it does is make everything blurry and happy and on fire.