Just place each hoof in front of the other.
Oh no, they’re snickering at me.
Just look forward, they can’t hurt you.
They can’t hurt me anymore than they already have.
I trudged up the steps into my quiet cottage. I tried not to let it get to me, but it seems to be happening more and more often as the days go on. I’m afraid to make the walk from work to my house. It seems like everypony in town has some sort of grudge against me, some sort of inside joke with me as the subject. It was enough to make a mare go completely crazy.
I gave a raggedy sigh, and stepped forward into the living room. Losing my strength from my last encounter, I collapsed in a self-loathing heap on the rug, only inches from the couch. I had hardly the willpower to make it the last little bit to the cushiony solace, so instead just lay there in shame and confusion. Pictures adorned the shelves above my fireplace, with smiling pony faces in soft wooden frames. These pictures reminded me of a better time, before I moved to Ponyville.
One picture stood out above all the rest. A picture of my family, a shy mother, and an overenthusiastic father, smiling gracefully, holding a small filly in between them, a grin of pure childish joy spread across her face. I longed for that moment again, when I had friends, when I had a family.
I came to Ponyville to find work, to make a new life, but instead found torment. I didn’t understand, it seems as everypony started to learn my name, the more and more I became shunned from the village as a whole. Even my coworkers treated me like dirt, and my boss has repeatedly told me to clean my act up, though I haven’t done anything wrong. It got to the point where I would just sit in the bathroom crying, wishing I could go home, and see my friends again, and feel companionship like I did in my foalhood. But how could I? It would disappoint my parents to no end if I were to return home after only weeks ago setting out for a new life.
I wonder if they would even notice. I wonder if they would even care if I didn’t show up to work tomorrow, just stayed home so I could be with the only ponies that didn’t seem like they were out to get me. Just stay home and have a chat with my friends and family and enjoy their silent conversation.
I decided now would be a good time to not look completely pitiful, and shakily made my way to my hooves. I made my way to the kitchen, looking for some sort of edible stress relief. I found instead my prized jar of tea leaves, and decided that I deserved to indulge myself a little bit, to try to calm my frazzled nerves.
The pot boiled and whistled as I tried to relax and enjoy the rest of my evening alone. The warm steam filled my drafty home, giving me a sense of comfort that I hadn’t felt in a long time. It almost felt like being hugged, I thought as I tried to remember what physical contact with another pony felt like, and failing. Tea was the only thing I still loved in my life.
Sipping lightly on the hot flavored drink, all my troubles seemed to melt away for a brief moment of relaxation. I sighed deeply, taking in the aroma that now filled my home. I felt at peace.
“Peace is never given to the child of misfortune.”
Cold shot down my spine. Eyes wide, I searched for the origin of the voice.
“W-who… Who said that?”
“Oh dear, did I startle you? Sorry sweetie.” The voice called out mockingly. It sounded familiar, sweet yet with a hard edge of judgment.
“What do you mean child of misfortune?”
“We never wanted to have you dearie, you were a mistake. Nopony cares about you, and you know it.” I looked in panic at the picture on the mantelpiece, and gazed in horror at my mother’s twisted grin, as her likeness stared back at me.
“This isn’t possible! This isn’t happening!” I screamed, trying to tell myself that it was all in my head.
“Do you think all your problems are just going to go away by telling yourself that everything is fine? Can’t you see that you’re hated? Such a shame, we gave you such a beautiful name. We had such high hopes for you, but I guess it was all for nothing.”
“Shut up!” I wasn’t just angry, I was terrified. I took my cup of tea and threw it at the portrait, shattering the glass and sending amber liquid into the fireplace, putting out the small firelight I had lit for myself.
The voices in my head became quiet as I lay in a fetal position on the floor, mumbling nonsense to nopony. Images of snickering faces played across my mind as I stared into the blackness of my home.
I felt ponies pushing me with their hooves, laughing and beating me, calling me names. The one phrase I hated more than anything else played like a broken record in my brain, over and over again.
The haunting laughter of my mother echoed in my head as I shook and jerked in self-loathing. I screamed and ripped the nametag sticker from my yellow coat with my teeth. It was a small thing, yet it was the origin of my torment. I tore it to shreds, but the voices continued still, until I was sent into a nightmare sleep. Just more of the same. The voices, the choking quiet, wanting it all to end. My home wasn’t even a place of solace. Tears rolled down my face, and confusion wracked my brain as I wondered how it got so far.
“Nopony likes a Mary Sue.”
