Author's Note
I Promise
Sunset Shimmer stared at the roof of her room. The covers were off, but a weight pressed her deep into the mattress. A beast whose teeth were bared.
Part of being able to survive against a monster was knowing what it was. This monster that ate at her was 365 days of fear, disease, and financial hardship. She wasn’t afraid to speak its name, or speak of it in metaphor like others were. Coronavirus.
She sat up in bed and grabbed her laptop. She opened it and logged in to check her bank statement again. She opened, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.
With a grimace she closed the tab and laid back down.
Months of social isolation. Months of scrimping, saving, and trying to just get by. Months of mental anguish. And for what?
She opened a new tab to myBook to check on her friends, just to feel like she was still somehow connected with them. She scrolled down her feed, seeing Applejack show her new toned muscles. Twilight showing off the new language she learned. Rainbow Dash had new guitar solos she was nailing.
The post read: “At least I did something constructive in this terrible year.”
Sunset felt the teeth on her throat. She couldn’t distract herself with fluff to avoid the questions anymore.
What had she done this year?
She closed the laptop again, laying back down. The clock ticked by on her wall. There were no get-togethers. There was no celebration. It was a year of silence. Of counting what blessings you still had.
What did she still have?
Would normal ever come back?
And even if it did… was this how she reacted to hardship? By shutting down?
A police siren rang out against the silent city air and bashed against her windows. A few silent pops that echoed through the night.
Her phone buzzed.
A warmth spread through her chest. Maybe that was one of her friends. Any of them. Maybe even Wallflower. Anyone.
She pulled it and scrolled to her text messages. Another spam text that wanted money ‘to deal with those political extremists.’ A bucket of ice water chilled her soul as she reported and blocked the number.
“What am I even doing?” she whispered.
She opened myBook out of habit. At the top of her feed was a multicolored meme with a kitten licking her paws.
You will be okay. You don’t have a choice.
“As if,” she whispered to herself. “Anyone could end it if they wanted to.”
She paused.
Did she really just say that? Again?
Bitter bile rose in her throat. She set her laptop aside and rubbed her face in her hands.
“What the fuck is wrong with me,” she mumbled.
She pulled the computer closer and sighed. This was one too many times.
She opened a new tab.
“Sometimes I think about hurting myself.”
She paused after typing the query into her search engine. Did she really have a problem? Depression was pretty much normal this year. Heck, scientists were guessing that the long term effects of this would last for decades.
She deleted her words. She was being crazy. Sure, she had the occasional bad thought, but she would never do anything about it. Then typed a new message.
“Will things ever go back to normal?”
And hit enter.
22 million results returned back, and at the very top was a simple article.
No, things aren’t going back to normal. But that’s okay.
“Well, that’s a little on the nose,” she mumbled.
She clicked it and her screen was bathed in white with black text.
If you clicked this, you’re feeling just like I did a month ago. You aren’t alone.
Sunset folded her legs on her bed and leaned forward to read.
This year has been hard for every single person in our world. And it’s undeniable that its effects are going to be felt for years to come. Even with a light at the end of the tunnel, and normalcy once again seeming in our grasps, there will inevitably be people who look back on this year with pride. Perhaps they felt like they accomplished a new skill. Perhaps they defeated an inner demon.
But that isn’t who this is written for.
Sunset felt borderline uncomfortable with the text she was reading. The writer seemed to be speaking to her almost directly. Was this what a mental break felt like? How many other people read this and felt the same sort of emotional connection to it’s words?
Maybe the writer was just pretentious.
I’m writing this for the person who is reading this because they’re struggling and need help. If I could send money or food to each person who needed it, I would. But I confess that I’m not doing too hot myself. Writing doesn’t exactly pay well.
Sunset hovered her mouse on the close button. Was this some sort of pleading for money?
But this isn’t about me. This is about you. And if you’re reading this, I want to tell you that you accomplished the greatest thing of all in this year. Survive.
Sunset froze, and moved her hand from the trackpad, to the down arrow to keep reading.
Everyone is tired right now. You aren’t the only one who is exhausted. And having the occasional dark thought is normal. If they persist, I suggest talking to a professional. There are cheap options online for those who need it. But as we approach the holidays, and more and more people are stuck inside their homes for much longer than they ever would have known, I just want you to know that you matter to someone. Someone out there loves you. And there’s people out there who will love you that you haven’t even met yet.
Sunset felt her body shake a little.
So, for the sake of yourself, and all of the people who are struggling right now. You are important. And I’m so excited for the amazing, beautiful future that's ahead for you. And I hope that reminding you that great things are still to come, is enough a Christmas Present for you, dear reader.
Sunset closed her laptop and laid back down once more.
“Things will get better,” Sunset said to herself.
She thought of what would happen in a few months when the girls would be able to get together again, and she couldn’t help but smile. Surely Pinkie was thinking of the best darn joke possible for when everyone got in the room again.
Maybe that’s what she could do. She could come up with the best possible plan once it’s safe for everyone to get together again.
And with a gentle smile, she closed her eyes. The exhaustion took her much quicker than she could have possibly guessed, but for the first night in months, good dreams were awaiting her.
