Author's Note

No, this is not a cry for help. No, this is not pro-suicide. The point of this fic is supposed to garner discussion and understanding.

To Fly

I should never have tried writing my feelings like my therapist suggested.

It was simple at first: I’d write about my childhood or my day—any part of it that made me feel. It was strange, but writing about those experiences over and over made me numb to them. Numb to life, perhaps.

So I decided to write things I hadn’t experienced. That, however, clashed with my perfectionism, which threatened to create a toxic amalgamation of self-deprecation and torture that I couldn't satisfy.

“A little late, is she?”

I muttered to myself, picking at the symbol that had been seared into my left forehoof. I had burned myself with a branding iron I stole from the local farm in the name of writing. A character was going to get severely burned, but I had never so much as been singed in my life. It was the first time I'd written something I didn’t have some experience with.

I tried talking to others who’d been burned before, but their attempts at description always left a certain dissonance ringing in my ears, as though they were leaving out a piece of the puzzle.

And so I burned myself. It was awful, but it gave me the ability to put something new into words. How my flesh smelled as it melted, how the pain made me want to cut off my very arm just to stop it. Most would view it as something abhorrent, that I should value myself more than something as silly as a fictional story. To that, I always say ‘my art is an extension of myself. If I can not dedicate not just my mind, but my body, in expressing my identity, then how can I do it at all?’

I didn’t hurt myself because I was suicidal, of course. The average pony would confuse the two; it’d take a dedicated artist to understand the difference. I’ve done many things in the name of my writing, not all of them bad. Tried cooking to write a chef, slept with strangers to write a sex scene. Even stayed sleep-deprived while writing scenes where my characters were to better emulate my experience.

My yearning to end consciousness stemmed from a very different plethora of issues.

Well, not exactly ‘say’ so much as ‘thought’. I’d never say that out loud; I knew exactly where such a road would lead.

I spotted a blue speck in the distance; my savior in shining rainbow.

“Ah, there she is.”

I got to my hooves, approaching the edge of the tallest building in Ponyville.

“Oops,” I very nearly slipped, having to re-catch my balance. “Almost fell off early. That’d be unfortunate.”

Just as I hoped, she spotted me and began moving in my direction. As the fastest flier in Equestria, that gave me a few precious seconds to collect my thoughts.

Rainbow Dash landed on the roof of the building just a few feet away from me. Enough to give me my space, and to catch me if I ‘fell’.

“Hey, what are you doing up here?”

I took in the midnight air, filling my lungs to the brim for what was likely the last time.

“Isn’t that obvious?” I turned to face her, my front hooves still outstretched in a ‘T’ like shape. “To end my life.”

Her magenta pupils constricted until they were barely visible. She raised a hoof and left it there, hesitant to move forward or back.

“That’s not funny.”

I laughed.

“I’d hope not. It isn’t a joke.”

Rainbow’s wings stayed fully extended, prepared to lift off at a second’s lapse. She clenched her jaw, biting her lip as her eyes scanned the horizon.

“What’s your name?”

I briefly considered making up some fake name just for fun, but that idea fled my mind as soon as it had landed.

“It doesn’t matter.” I cleared my throat, lowering my hooves. They were getting tired.

“Of course it matters. Your parents gave it to you, didn’t they?”

I chuckled, though this time it was much more hollow.

“So that’s what you’re going for? My family? I should have expected that.” I found myself picking at the symbol in my forehoof again. It used to hurt a lot to do that, now it's just a slight discomfort that helps keep my mind tense. “I have a very loving family. Both parents, some siblings, and they’ve been supportive my entire life. I’d never have to work a day in my life if I really wanted to.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows raised as she took a single step forward.

“Then imagin—”

“How upset they’d be?”

“Well,” she grimaced, scratching at the roof with her hoof. “They would.”

“Of course they would. They’d blame themselves, think they did something wrong, might even tear their marriage apart, could even result in one of them killing themselves. I’ve thought about all of this. Why else do you think I’ve stayed alive this long?”

“Then, what? Did something happen? If you need bits or something I ca—”

“Not at all. In fact, if I wanted to, I could start selling my books and make a fortune.” I smirked, a smidge of empty pride sparking in my heart. “I didn’t have a fight with a romantic partner, and my job of teaching creative writing is as satisfying as it could be. Really, I’m quite privileged; in another life, I’d be a total flankhole.”

As to be expected, Rainbow only got more disturbed. She fumbled over her own words, struggling to find the right thing to say.

“Then why are you up here?” Her wings slowly lowered to her sides. “Why are you bothering to tell me all this?”

“Because I want you to understand; even if you can’t. If an Element of Harmony can’t talk me out of it, then I guess nopony can?”

“So, you want to be talked out of it?” uncertainty laced her voice like a viscous poison. I could see the confusion in her face the more I spoke.

“I want you to try. Really try! And don’t do any of that guilt-tripping stuff.”

“Guilt tripping?” her voice cracked, as if offended by the very thought. “I wouldn’t guilt trip you!”

“You already have by trying to tell me how bad my family would feel if I did that. That doesn’t do anything about my problems, it only adds on to them.”

“I wasn’t trying to—” she bit her tongue, stopping whatever she was saying as she muttered something to herself. Like I had earlier, she puffed out her chest and took a deep breath, closing her eyes until she exhaled.

I had no problem waiting. After all, I had all the time in the world now that it’s ran out.

“Alright, what’s your problem then?”

“Everything, I guess.” I shrugged, tapping a hoof against the ground to a silent beat. “I don’t really like being alive.”

“What? Dude, you’re an idiot. Being alive is awesome! What’s not to like?”

Something about that made me chuckle. Somehow, it was even emptier than before.

“That’s the thing; I know some things about life are awesome. They just,” You’d think as a writer I wouldn’t have the problem of searching for the right words, but all it's done is made me aware of more synonyms to say the same thing. Language was made for basic communication, it fails when it comes to anything more complex. “Aren’t worth it. They don’t outweigh the bad, and it's not even close. Everything awesome is a fleeting high that you just find yourself chasing again, and it’s never as good as the time before, so what’s the point?”

“Oh yeah? Like what? What’s so bad that it ruins everything else?”

The disbelief in her words was tangible. Not that I could blame her. The average pony, even one in Ponyville, loved life; suicide itself is a rarity in Equestria. To an element bearer, it must be a hard thing even to comprehend.

“Breathing, needing to sleep, eating, the constant desire to reproduce. Take your pick. Might as well be the very process of being ‘alive’. I hate it, hate all of it, hate that I need to do it. I hate anything that takes away from writing, which I somehow hate even more.”

“I mean, yeah.” Rainbow held a wing to her chest, her face pinching into a sour expression. “If you don’t like doing those things, they can really suck, but that’s just how it is. You have to take the good with the bad and accept things how they are so you can enjoy the good parts about it?”

“So I’m just supposed to accept that things are shitty?” I snapped back, a little more venom in my words than Intended. “I’m supposed to just be ok with the fact that I was forced to be alive, forced to do all of these things that I hate, just because everyone else is?”

“What’s wrong with being ok with it?” Rainbow shot back, her voice raising for the first time tonight. “None of us had a choice in being born, but we do have a choice in making the best of it. If it lets you enjoy life, isn’t that worth it?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t enjoy life. That’s what I’m saying!” I hated repeating myself, but I already knew that’s exactly what I’d have to do over and over again. “I have everything anypony would want out of life, and I still hate it!”

I can’t remember the last time I put so much emotion into something that wasn’t on paper; it was kinda painful. The way it made my throat vibrate with each syllable was almost foreign, like the tune of a song I’d heard only once before.

I think I hated it.

“Pfft, are you serious right now?” Rainbow scoffed. “I know I said this before. But, dude, you’re an idiot. How are you going to live in Ponyville your entire life, never experience everything life has to offer, and then say you hate life? How stupid can you get!”

She took a step forward, and I would have taken a step backward if it wouldn’t have resulted in my death. I still had too much to say.

“You’re calling me arrogant? How bold, telling a person that's about to kill themselves that their viewpoint on life is wrong. Better than guilt-tripping I guess. Hmmm.” I rubbed my chin, understanding just a bit more why stallions stroke their beard. It would have been perfect for moments like this. “So, what, I’m supposed to go to Prance, eat their bread, and decide not to kill myself? Isn’t it just as arrogant of you to say that, because my life hasn’t been as adventurous as yours, it's invalid?”

“Of course it’s invalid; you’re about to end your own life!”

“Aha! So you’re scared of admitting that my viewpoint is valid because, if you do, then you’d have to let me kill myself.” I pointed my hoof towards her, then back to me.

“What. I’d never kill myself! I’ve got too many awesome friends to live for, and I’m too awesome.”

Her wings outstretched as she began hovering off the ground, a flicker of anger in her eyes.

“Oh, and my life hasn’t been awesome? I’m still in a relationship with my high school sweetheart, I’ve got tons of friends, I need for nothing!”

“You need some brains! Because if you really have all of that, then why are you up here in the first place?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m fucking depressed!”

“Fucking so? My best friend Pinkie is depressed and she hasn’t tried to kill herself!” Rainbow’s eyes narrowed as she went back to the ground, her anger simmering as she grimaced. “I don’t think so, at least.”

“Well, I’m not Pinkie. And I’m not you. And I’m not anyone else. I’m me, and that’s,” I trailed off, once more struggling just to find the right words. It would be frustrating if it wasn’t so pathetic. “That’s the problem.”

For once, Rainbow didn’t look like she had anything to say to that.

She opened and closed her mouth so many times I wondered if she was gasping for air.

“Have you even tried?”

Ah, there it was.

The question I was anticipating most of all.

“Of course I’ve tried. I would have offed myself years ago if I hadn’t.”

“There’s gotta be things you haven’t tried then! Ponies you haven’t met, ponies who could help you!”

I laughed. I actually laughed, with my whole chest. My mouth tingled, it hurt. My jaw got sore, I had to hold myself with my hooves.

It was painful.

“Y—you’re right, maybe there's some magical adventure I could go on. Or some pony who could help me. Or, heck, maybe Twilight can come up with a magical spell that’ll cure me. Why not, right?”

Rainbow's expression wasn’t one of concern or even anger anymore. The way she frequently swallowed and blinked, her gaze bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball.

I was making her uncomfortable.

“And the entire time….I’d be suffering. Living is suffering for me; I know it doesn’t have to be, but it is. And it will be on the search for betterment. So, tell me, are you going to ask me to torture myself so you won’t feel bad?”

Again, she was silent. She raised her hooves and pressed them back against the ground over and over again, her eyes scanning the ground as if she’d found the answer there. Then, she gasped.

“Y—you,” I’d never heard Rainbow Dash’s voice so meek before. It sounded almost…wrong. “You already decided, didn’t you? Before you even climbed up here, you already knew?”

I smiled. This one only stung.

“You can listen.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and a tear ran down her cheek.

“Then… Why?! Why talk to me?”

“Because,” Once more, I spread my hooves in that ‘T’ position. “I wanted to be wrong.”

I fell back, this time on purpose.

Some little tingle of doubt expected to see blue feathers, the sound of the springing of wings. Instead, I only heard the whistling in my ears.

It's strange, but falling. It almost felt like…

Flying.