I knew that I would be saying goodbye.

I planned on saying goodbye.

But the truth is, I didn’t precisely plan on saying goodbye.

Maybe I knew I would have to one day. Holding tight to something that can’t love you back will only end in heartache and misery.

But this morning, as I take my final looks around this house I’d called home for years, I’m saying goodbye.

As much as it stung to lose my voice, this hurts differently. It stung sitting next to Barley, his hoof gentle and kind as we worked on the next story. I turned to see Mustard Mark look at me, so confused, as his big brother Hoof Work explained what had happened again. Sleepy Bean would nap on the couch between moments of rousing, and their easy-going demeanor was an asset I valued while learning how to “talk” again. The one who hurt the most from this was Deep Dish.

As much as I sobbed for hours, she cried for only a few minutes. The pain in her wailing slashed at me, invisible knives of sadness finding my heart, my head, and my throat again. The world wasn’t content enough, it seemed, in having taken my voice from me; a mark, nigh permanent, now lay on my throat. Caramel Malt was sad but not about to let the circumstance change her. She brought over food and would regale me with stories for hours. I could only nod and doodle down on my sketch pad, one of dozens I have around the house.

Laughter hurt the most to lose. Writing two or three letters on the pad and switching up the As and Os depending on the joke didn’t convey the emotion. So Autumn bought signs, and it became easier to ‘laugh’ again. And I did. I laughed full and deep. The memories of my laughter rang in my mind. It helped to ease the stinging—the nights when the pegasi organized a thunderstorm that woke me—waking up to scream from a nightmare. The fresh, acidic, fire tears melted my face, carving new lines that marked my pain.

Today, memories crash in waves as I look around this house, which sheltered me and gave me parameters to learn and grow. I met my friends here—those whose voices I learned and amplified. And they’d all visited—all but one.

I looked up at the clock. The last thing I will put away before leaving this place behind and moving to another. The movers wouldn’t be here for another hour. My worldly possessions—save this notepad turned into my primary diary—are organized, taped, and attached to two carts. The walls are primarily bare, and some sections are cleaner from being obscured by posters, portraits, and memories of our time together. I’m going to miss this place.

Knock-knock. What? Not the movers. Too early for them. Who could it—?

I walked over to the door and opened it with my magic. Standing outside was the last kirin I thought would be here. She hadn’t returned my messages. The only one of my group of friends that hadn’t shown up. There’s a second pad lying on a counter in the kitchen, and I wicked it over with a simple flick of my horn, grabbing a pencil as I began to "speak."

‘Fizzy? Today’s my moving day. I can still make some time if you w—’

She stopped me, casually snatching my pen out of the air with her tail.

“I haven’t wanted to come over for a reason, Note. It was wrong of me to avoid you. Now that I’m here?”

Okay, I’ll admit, at this point, I was annoyed. Plucking my pen from my grasp was equal to telling me to shut up. It was worse now; I had learned to put my pen down and let one of my friends finish speaking aloud before I’d respond. I chose a baleful look, pleading for my pen back. I think Fizzy realized she hadn’t meant to steal it from me, given the look on her face as she saw the writing implement in her grip.

“Oh heck, I’m… dammit, I’m sorry!”

Pen back in my grasp, I finished writing what I’d meant to say.

‘If you want to. I won’t lie, Fizzy Glitch, I thought you didn’t want to see me. Of all my friends, you’ve been the only one who didn’t come over after I said I’d be leaving. Why?’

There was an exceedingly long pause. I could count the seconds as Fizzy processed what I’d said. She was giving her response a great deal of thought. I thought about the day I’d broken fully. When Autumn Blaze and Barley rescued me from the darkest moment I’d had in years. The day I realized that a good speaker could become a good writer. It took months of work, having my friends and other local ponies keep the language fresh in my mind.

“I thought that if I never came over to say goodbye, I wouldn’t have to, and we could be together forever.”

Oh, this was a hard point to contest. I saw her logic and wished I could giggle because of how absurd it was—but it was logical from her perspective.

‘Fizzy Glitch, you silly kirin. “Saying” goodbye will always just be a phrase. It doesn’t dissolve our friendship, our relationship. You and I—we will share a closeness that distance can’t erase. This is a change, and…’

Dammit. It is a change, and I’m starting to see another aspect of her reasoning. And I can feel myself crying again. Not the baleful sobbing I’d done the days after I’d lost my voice, but one that came from the rawness of my aching heart.

“It’s a rift, Note. I won’t see you. I can’t hear you. I know you’ll write letters, and I’ll look back at the speeches you delivered and the songs you performed. I’ll be honest, Note—I’m angry about this. How can you be so selfish?”

The word hit me like she’d reached forward and backhooved me. Did my friend, the kirin who trusted me for her voice, tell me I was being selfish? Staying calm was beyond me, and I pulled my tablet up and quickly wrote down angrily—

‘SELFISH?!?’

“You’re LEAVING! You haven’t even told Barley or Caramel where you were going.”

‘Seaddle. And I have friends in Fort Whinny I’m going to see.’

“You’ve been in Whinnyapolis for as long as I’ve known you! WHY THERE?!?”

Oh, horseapples. I can see the flames. I’m about to deal with Nirik Fizzy. The pony I was when I’d lost my voice.

‘You need to CALM. DOWN. I’ve BEEN where you ARE. Don’t think for a SECOND I haven’t hurt the same way you did last year. When you thought Barley and Caramel weren’t listening to you and giving you anything important to do. When they WEREN’T listening. When my FAVORITE KIRIN DIDN’T EVEN VISIT ME!’

“How. DARE. You.”

And it was too late. She erupted in flame. And I was now at a disadvantage. The rub of this entire situation didn’t escape me. Two friends, both hurting, both angry at circumstances outside of their control, and now we’re at each other’s throats. I really needed to get her to calm down. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to share the ‘good’ news in this situation, if there was any to be had.

“HOW DARE YOU THINK I DIDN’T CARE! YOU’RE RUNNING AWAY! TAKING THE COWARD’S WAY OUT OF THIS MESS. LEAVING AN EMPTY HOUSE FULL OF MEMORIES THAT WILL TURN SOUR BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT HERE ANYMORE!!!”

Am I running away? Am I not even trying to fix this? She could see it easily. I can see how she could see it. My friends from Chicolt were sad but accepted my explanation. They didn’t like it at all, and Deep Dish made it very clear. Talking to her took the longest. Of my eight closest friends, Fizzy was the only one who hadn’t accepted and acclimated to the news.

‘Fizzy I can’t fix this I can’t I CAN’T’

“LIAR! YOU DON’T WANT TO!”

‘WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!?’

And her flames. Licked. Out.

And the notebook caught fire.

“I. don’t—know…”

The notebook burned. My words burned. The nirik in front of me blanched.

“Note, I…”

I was mute. I couldn’t say anything. It was the last notebook I had that wasn’t my diary. I wasn’t going to show her that. Neither of us made an effort to put the notebook out.

“Oh, Celestia, I’m…”

Familiar sadness tried to well up. I shoved it back down. I’d cry later. I waved my left forehoof in front of her: the only way I could use now to get her was a way I hated. Autumn tried to explain it to me, and I understood the formation of words on my lips, even if I couldn’t speak. Now, I hoped that Fizzy knew how to read lips; otherwise, the remainder of this exchange would be very one-sided.

I motioned to my mouth after she acknowledged me.

“Note I’m sorry I—”

My left forehoof landed on her horn. Celestia, I needed her to listen to me.

“New notebook.”

I nodded and motioned to the path to the store. We trotted in silence. It was the longest three-minute walk I’d ever done. Fizzy entered first. The store felt tiny today, but the well-trod floors were shiny and fresh. There were two other ponies in the store, one of which waved to me when I walked in—and then sensed the tension in the air. His face fell, and I heard a gentle chime of telepathy—a spell I couldn’t learn despite trying so hard—in my head.

“Hey Note. It’s going to be weird here without you. Why is Fizzy… oh.”

I nodded, offering a soft, fake smile. Fizzy then looked at me, not knowing where things were in the store. I pointed to where the notebooks were: an aisle I’d visited many times.

Fizzy knew better than to speak right now. Reading my lips was challenging, and she read the room and situation that she’d created: I was angry with her, and she was angry with me, and without being able to talk to each other, we couldn’t solve our dispute.

Our visit through the aisle was brief: I plucked a simple bound notebook from the shelf, another pencil to write with, and then walked with Fizzy, taking the lead as we approached the counter. We had all we needed. I motioned for Fizzy to pay. She didn’t hesitate to pluck out her coin purse and set the proper amount of bits for it on the counter.

The cashier walked out from around the counter and gave me a hug. She whispered into my ear: “You’ve been an awesome neighbor and friend. I’ll miss you. Good luck out west.”

I nodded and leaned into the hug. I was going to miss her, too. With the new notebook and pencil in my grasp, I walked out of the store. We were both quiet, and I didn’t feel like going back to the house right this second. Right now, that would be a flashpoint that would inhibit our ability to have the conversation that we needed to—one she needed to hear and I needed to tell.

There were a couple of tables near the café where I’d performed a couple of times, empty and free for the two of us to sit down at. I motioned over to one of them and prepared to write out a lot of words.

‘I’ll consider this an apology purchase for silencing me. Fizzy, I didn’t make this decision quickly. I’ve loved being the voice for you while you were discovering your own. Loved it so much that I got blinded by my own success. Prideful. It looks like to you that I’m being selfish—’

“You are—”

Tap-tap-tap. Three very loud and distinct noises rang out on the table, a sound I’d chosen to make something clear since I lost my voice: “Don’t interrupt me. I wasn’t done talking.”

“Sorry.”

‘As I was saying, it looks to you that I’m being selfish. This was an act of selflessness. I’ve been keeping something from all seven of you for a while. How much I was growing to dislike being your voice. I’ve enjoyed it, and I want to make that clear. Fizzy, I love you. As much as I love Deep Dish, Hoof Work, Mustard Mark, Sleepy Bean, Barley Tender, and Caramel Malt. Did Barley tell you what happened when Autumn found me?’

I set the pencil down. Another clear sign for the participant in a discussion: I’m done talking for the moment, and you are free to speak.

“He told me you shoved him on his plot and then regretted it. You were raw, distraught, and desperate for the world to make sense. You were suffering from an incredible loss.”

‘That’s right. It was also on that day that I took up writing. And look at me now! I’ve gotten good at it. I’ve published short stories and been working on a novel. The most important thing is that I found my confidence again. I didn’t think that I could ever be a good writer. I didn’t think I could be a good anything on that day.’

Fizzy read the words on the page. Over and over, her eyes scanned the fresh page, seeing the tight cursive lines that formed my thoughts into tangible structure. Twenty seconds or so passed before she looked at me and spoke again.

“I didn’t know it had hurt you that badly. Fear that you had become lost and were wandering down the same path I had: that you were being rejected and not listened to.”

‘You are partially right. I wasn’t being listened to, and that was before I lost my voice. I was also stuck. I didn’t see a way to become more of your voice outside of becoming the only voice you ever heard giving you direction and motivation.’

“So you believed that because you couldn’t talk to us the way that you had once done, you couldn’t be our voice again? I… I don’t understand, Note.”

I shook my head softly as I spoke again.

‘That was a place I started. And then I realized: why should I be the only voice? THAT, my friend, was a really selfish thing I did. That only my voice mattered. So often, I convinced myself that if I wasn’t going to talk for you, who else could? Who else would step up to the task of helping guide you?’

Fizzy laughed. I was about to grab my pencil, but she held up a hoof. Something clearly about that statement was funny, and I wanted to hear out what it was that I’d missed out on.

“Oh, Celestia and Luna, Note Worthy: you were never the only voice. You simply tricked yourself into thinking you were. And you let that eat away at you. Let it become something that kept you trapped in something you probably weren’t enjoying as much as you had before.”

‘How did you…?’

“You silly unicorns think you’re all super smart all the time and see everything. While you might have been a voice for me, I still have ears and eyes.”

Celestia dammit.

“And while you were busy ‘talking’ for me, I was hearing other ponies speak about what you and learning that I could talk too. Note, I’m sure you’ve realized this: we all have our own voice. You helped to guide me when I needed it, and then I learned how to speak for myself.”

‘I did.’

“All right: I’m confused then. Why are you leaving?”

‘Because a unicorn can’t stay in the same place forever. And I need to stretch my wings.’

“You don’t have wings.”

‘I know. I need to stretch my proverbial wings. Not like Twilight, Celestia, Luna, or Barley. This is something that I’ve needed to do for myself.’

“But that means leaving and going west. And leaving us behind. And from what I’ve heard from some of these new voices, you’re not coming back. Seaddle and Fort Whinny?”

A soundless exhale came from my throat as I looked over at her.

‘Seaddle is now a home for me. It’s a place where I’ve found what I knew I could be if other ponies believed in me. I won’t lie: it’s scary sometimes when I go to do this new task. It’s learning a whole new thing.’

“And Fort Whinny?”

‘I had some really bad beliefs about that place. Said some hurtful things to an earth pony and griffon friend. Then, I realized how stupid I was being and decided it was worth a chance.’ I was just about to stop talking when something occurred to me, and I lifted the pencil again to add more.

‘You mentioned how the house would be empty, and those memories would be sour. I have something to tell you. And you’re the last one to know.’

“Note Worthy, I swear to Celestia: choose your words carefully.”

‘Hey, I didn’t make you not show up before today, now did I?’ I stuck my tongue out at her. Amazingly immature for as much as I’d grown.

“So mature.”

‘Shaddup. The house won’t be mine anymore. It’ll be yours. And Caramel and Barley… all of you.’

“... what? You’re giving us…”

‘I want those memories of us in there to live on forever. What better way to do that than to give it to you?’

Fizzy’s mouth opened, and she started to stammer. I had to laugh and did so as well as I could without the signs: I reached forward and put Fizzy’s hoof against my stomach.

‘I thought I was the one who was rendered speechless, silly kirin.’

Her silence continued, and then I saw her crying. Dammit.

“You sneaky mare.”

‘Ha ha ha. “This is what you get for missing staff meetings, Doctor.” You would have found out days ago if you’d had just stopped over. Of course, it’s gonna need some more space for all of you. But the memories steeped in those walls, how warm they’ll be on the coldest night. I’m sure it’ll do just fine for a place to build and grow.’

“Note. I don’t know what to say.”

‘That’s my line, Fizzy.’ I laughed again. Gosh, she is such a good friend. I will miss her so much once I’ve gone.

“Stop that. You’re mean.”

‘Says the mare that erupts into a walking volcano when she loses her temper. Come on. The movers will be here soon, and I wanted to give you one last tour and walk around before I get ready for my long trip.’

“Oh… Zephyrina Storm stopped by Trotter’s. She gave me and the rest of us these weird things. Says they’re all the rage in Zephyr Heights.” Her magic alit, saddlebags opening as she levitated out a small, rectangular box.

‘What’s this?’

“They call it a “phone.” And there’s this amazing thing on it that Pipp Petals would not. stop. talking about. It’s called text messages.” It landed on my side of the table, and with a flick of my magic, the cover came off. Inside was a folded note with a Cutie Mark I hadn’t seen before. The crown image scared me. Was I in trouble?

‘To Note Worthy:

‘My sister and I heard from your friends about you leaving Whinnyapolis and moving to Seaddle. They were understandably upset about never seeing you again and not having a way to talk to you, given the great distance between the two cities. While the technology is still relatively new, and only a few of us have it here in ZH, I talked to the pony responsible for creating the phones. I might have pulled a few strings, much to my Mother’s irritation. Now, there are nine more of these in the world. Take extremely good care of this: they’re expensive and take a long time to make.

‘Hey there, Note Worthy! The Pippsqueaks and I have all been rooting for you after you lost your voice. That’s a major bummer, and I’m so so so sad for you. I’ve heard your music and listened to your speeches, and when I learned that they wouldn’t be out in the world anymore, it stung a lot. On the phone is a song that I wrote for you. Just remember: you’re awesome. Keep your head up, and don’t worry: one day, we’re going to find your voice again. My friends and I won’t stop looking for it, and we’ll even have the Pippsqueaks looking. You’re amazing, Note. Pipp-pipp Hooray!

‘Come and visit us sometime! We’ll have hot cocoa and lots of stories to tell. Stay awesome, Note.

‘Sincerely, Princess Zephyrina “Zipp” Storm and Princess Philomena “Pipp” Petals’

“You silly, silly unicorn. You were never the only voice. We’re a chorus in this world. Your audible voice may be gone for now, but there’s a voice that springs forth from you that has been heard all around Equestria. The keyboard takes a bit of learning from what Pipp showed me, but you’re a smart mare; you’ll figure it out in time.”

‘Fizzy… t-thank you.’

“Oh, don’t thank me; thank the Princesses. I also might have let slip that you could use a royal escort?”

‘YOU DIDN’T!’

The sound of flapping cut off the rest of my words as two pegasi that I hadn’t noticed circling and watching us from afar come gliding in for a landing.

“Sup?” Zipp said as she walked over to stand next to me.

‘Fizzy Glitch! I swear to Celestia I am gonna get you back for this one!’

“You and what army, girl?” She laughed as Pipp came over and gave her a hug. “Hey, Pipp! You two made good time; her movers are going to be here in about a half-hour or so. Should be enough time for a crash course for my delightful unicorn friend here about how to use apps, play music, and hear that song that you wrote for her?”

“Yep! Mom actually upgraded your moving company. We’ll help you get situated in Seaddle in your new place. Also, there are some new therapies up in ZH that you might be interested in, Note. They won’t fully replace your lost voice, but they could help. For now, let’s go see this house full of memories. If you were under any presumption that you could just quietly slip out of town, you are sorely mistaken!”

Pipp’s voice was angelic. Oh, Celestia, I would have loved to do a duet with her. Maybe I still will. Maybe there’s hope for my stubborn, mute self. For now, I’m going to enjoy the company of my friends. And friends I didn’t even know I had.

This is my last diary entry here in Whinnyapolis. I’m a little scared of what the future will bring, but I have my friends with me. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in the last fourteen years, it’s this: friendship is enough. Friendship is a bond that will keep us together in whatever circumstance it is that we find ourselves in life. Friendship makes life bearable when it gets heavy and hard to bear. Friendship, truly, honestly, is magic.

Author's Note

Well, folks, this is it. On November 4th, after a rousing breakfast with my friends at Build A Breakfast to help close out an amazing Ponyville Ciderfest, I will be driving back to Minnesota… for the last time. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time at Ponyville Ciderfest, both as an attendee and as a volunteer facet. However, things have changed in my life, and at this current juncture, I don’t have the energy and mental bandwidth ability to continue aiding this event or Whinny City Pony Con, much less the vacation time.

No, I am not moving to Seattle (as much as that’d be interesting)—I couldn’t handle that traffic, and the fuel prices out there are quite honestly insane. Nor am I relocating to Dallas-Fort Worth. However, those will be the places you’ll see me in 2025. I will be retaining my position as Charity Lead for Everfree Northwest in August. I’m also going to be at HarmonyCon for the first time in an attendee facet (as soon as the department heads to which I’ve indicated interest get back in touch with me).

Some of you reading this will be sad, others confused, and others, quite honestly, will be very angry. As much as my imaginary pony version of Note has lost her voice, I don’t have much to say about this other than I believe I’m doing the best thing for myself, my financial situation, and my mental well-being.

I have cherished all of your friendships and acquaintanceships and the love you’ve given me over the last nine years with our annual sojourn to Milwaukee. Shut up, Taylor and Red Card. I’m not saying it.

Let me emphasize: this is not a decision I came to lightly or overnight. I’ve struggled with the mental gymnastics of potentially just being an attendee or volunteering in another department, and this was the absolute last thing I initially wanted to do. At the end of the day, it’s the thing I need to do for now, and after a year away from Schaumburg and Milwaukee, I might reconsider this departure from the two events. (I’ll also have more vacation time to go to them!)

I want to take the chance to say thank you to everybody who’s believed in me, helped me out when I wasn’t feeling confident, and took the time to get to know me: the real me, not the one that hid behind the screen, scared of real humans as she dealt with a rocky return to a life she desperately needed.

Before I started writing Saying Goodbye, I had a seriously bad mental health day. I wrote one last short story for the 2024 version of the Interactive Storytelling Adventure that will be held at Ciderfest, and through talking with a very close friend, helped to conceptualize and work out a story in about three hours. That story is called The Stolen Voice and might be published as an addendum to this piece of fiction once Ciderfest is over. To my friend Miles Cota, thank you so much for being there during my suffering and pain. For talking to me when I was falling apart and in a really dark place. Thank you for helping me laugh and being willing to try new things and for letting me know that I wasn’t alone and that I am truly, honestly, worthy of friendship.

Another very big thank you to what I’m now claiming as Note Worthy’s anthem, even though it’s clearly a song about Izzy Moonbow (I think, anyway, the art on the track gives that impression to me). A collaboration between that’s featured as the lead track on Ponies at Dawn: Survivors, Jensen Stiles, MathematicPony, and Nexgen titled The Wanderer. It can be found on YouTube, but if you really wanna be awesome, go and pick up the full album from Bandcamp! The link is featured below, as well as the direct link for the song, so you can listen to it while reading this. (Heads up, it’s a banger, and nobody will judge you for listening to it on loop for almost three hours.)

I love all’y’all, even those folks I don’t necessarily like right now. G5 FOREVER, Y’ALL—LET’S KEEP THIS TRAIN RUNNING INTO THE 2030s!

Sincerely,

Note Worthy

Link to Bandcamp for Ponies at Dawn: Survivors— https://poniesatdawn.bandcamp.com/album/survivors
Link to The Wanderer by Nexgen & Jensen Stiles (feat. MathematicPony)—
Nexgen & Jensen Stiles - The Wanderer (feat. MathematicPony) [Dark Pop]