2/1/21.M
Dear Shep,
Four days until my thirteenth birthday, and I’m supposed to be excited, I think. Everyone else is. My mom is, my friends are, and I’m gonna have a huge party to celebrate. And even so, I think I’ve grown a little facial hair. But I don’t wanna shave, Shep. I wanna have a beard, just like you someday!
I dreaded the day they took you away, Shep. You were my savior. The last saving grace to keep me from doing something stupid, cutting my wrist open because of a girl I was too afraid to confess my feelings to. That, and my biological mom driving me insane. Thank Chrysalis you got me outta there, right? Right.
...but then again, I still miss you. Nothing’s really changed since they took you away, except my will to live, which I will admit, depleted with each passing day. I don’t know if you’re still in there. I don’t know if they killed you, or beat you, or abused you. Hell, I know what they do if you drop the soap, so be careful. Just thinking about all the things they could be doing to you right now makes my chitin crawl. It makes me angry that I can’t do anything for you, Shep.
And sometimes, I look back on our old conversations. When you told me about your father, the one you finally got to see again after such a long time. When you two bonded, and I was so sad that I wasn’t able to meet him in person, right with you when you needed it the most. But I had things to do, and maybe you didn’t know that because I’m not good at explaining. Covering my own ass, let alone someone else’s, was never my strong suit- isn’t my strong suit.
I wish I could cover your ass, just this once, Shep. So I could spend more time with you.
And every waking moment in my life, I keep this mindset that somehow, in some way, you’ll just be on my doorstep. Be there, when I tentatively push open my front door, you’ll be there, waiting on me. Watching me walk my dog with that goofy smile on your face, evidently proud of your absolute failure of a son.
One day, it’ll happen, Shep.
I’ll journal again tomorrow, mom’s calling me for dinner.
I love you, father of mine.
Love, Heath
2/1/21.M
Dear Shep,
I changed my mind. I don’t care if mom catches me awake right now. Who the hell even are you, Shep? What kind of monster would do the things you did? I mean, who the heck offers weed to a child? I had just turned twelve, you knew how old I was, and you knew I was underage. I mean, sure, I used to roll up a blunt or two with whatever herb I was able to get my hooves on, but...what the heck, Shep?
Did you want me drugged up so you could take advantage of me like you did her?
Yeah, I know about her. I know exactly the kind of fucked up shit you did to that poor girl. Do you know what kind of confusion and heartbreak her parents can be going through, you sick, closeted, backstabbing fuck?!
Glass of warm milk to calm down. But I’m still upset at you for what you did, Shep.
...How could you do this?
I would say to me, but it’s not about me. It’s not my job to be upset about whatever this is, although I’m clearly not pleased about it. I’m upset about how you didn’t even think to tell me. How you just smiled in my face like some wolf wrapped in sheep’s cotton and pretended you weren’t the person you really are.
I hate liars, Shep. And yet it’s so, so dumb to live by that expressionbecause I love you.
I just have so many questions for you, Shep, for when I finally get to see you again. And when I do, I’m going to punch that stupid face in.
But I digress.
I remember that one time, when we were hanging out at the ridge. You were telling me just how much you wanted to be in the Changeling Patrol. All the time, when I was texting you, and you were in school, you’d go offline for thirty minutes to an hour because you stepped aside from class time to sign up for those military classes I had never heard of. You always gushed about the first and second Changeling-Pony war and how you wanted to join the patrol so badly.
I always wondered what it’d be like, when I finally moved in with you, and you’d eventually have to leave because then you’d be enlisting. You couldn’t spend much time with me anymore, I’d probably have to have someone else look after me.
Before I met my new mom, you were the only one who even tried to be there for me.
So, I guess it isn’t the most awful thing you’ve ever done, abandoning me like this, since they would’ve taken you either way.
I should tell you that I’m training to be in the patrol just like you were, Shep. I’m not as strong as you are, but I’m definitely trying. I run three miles three times a week, and I make sure to do my lifting. One day, I’ll get to how real recruits train, five miles a day.
There’s so much I want to tell you.
I want to hug you until I start crying.
But at the same time, I want to smack that goofy grin off your face.
How dare you, Shep?
How dare you care for me?
How dare you not trust me?
How dare you love me?
...how dare I think of you as the father I never had?
Every one of those people that got you in there makes me hate myself, right now. Never have I felt so satisfied with one’s actions, yet so angry at them for doing the right thing. All of them, I’ve seen it; them calling you a monster for what you did. Hissing terrible things behind closed doors, Shep.
Something tells me that if you return, you won’t be as welcomed. But to me, that doesn’t matter.
I’ll welcome you back home, Shep. And I don’t care if they crucify me for doing it, you’re still my Shep. The Shep I know, that kept me from committing, that helped me pursue the girl of my dreams. The one that called me “son” when I thought no one else would want me. You made me feel wanted, Shep.
I just had to journal my thoughts for a little.
Love, Heath
2/2/21.M
Shep, I am not okay right now.
My anxiety has skyrocketed and I want to end it all, right here, right now. I want to see you again, Shep. And I would, if I knew what condition you were in right now. I don’t know if you’re dead or alive. I don’t know if you’re being treated well over there. If I knew you were dead, I would end my life right this second. I want to be with you, wherever you are.
I’ve been shunned for telling the truth, about a very bad thing that I did. But I’m not sorry, not at all. At this point I don’t care if I’m hurting others, I just want to do whatever I have to do to see you again. And if this means I have to go to jail for you, then so be it. If it means I have to kill myself just to float up in Heaven with you, fine. I don’t care. I just want to find you, Shep!
And when I hug you again, it’ll be too soon.
Too, too soon.
I love you, father of mine.
And I’ll keep waiting until I lose hope.
And then I’ll join you up there.
Love, Heath
The unreformed, just-barely teenage nymph swiveled away from his writing desk, thoughts racing through his head at light speed. He felt his heart throb, practically in his throat as he looked over the freshly inked pages on the lined paper of his journal. They reeked of edge and stunk of...well, ink. Fresh supplies from the nearest quill shop. He blinked his carbon grey eyes as he jolted up from his chair, then peering at his sorry mug in the broken vanity on his wall.
He took a black comb and raked it through his curly, pink into purple locks. To be more clear, his hair faded into a darker violet, which washed up more of the pink than it was supposed to. However, they were two of his favorite colors, so that’s what he chose to dye his hair. They almost kind of expressed his feelings, barely, if not enough. But he tried.
As he regrettably tore the three pages from his notebook, folding them in a triple stack.
And eventually he found an envelope. Signed it with his name, put an address on the damn thing.
He just wanted Shep to see.
Finally, after so much time.
What he thought, and felt, after he left. How much tragedy he had endured. Heath missed his father more than anything, and dreaded every single one of those bastards that had him detained. But even then, he was still angry at Shep himself.
But now he was going to know how he felt.
First hoof.
