Letting Go

by Kwisatz-Haderach

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Sad
Length: 1577

Soarin' reflects on what it means to put childish things behind him.

Soarin' reflects on his past, his present and what it means to put childish things behind him and take responsibility for himself...

Published 2012-12-12 06:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-12-12 06:50:01 UTC

Letting Go.

Disclaimer: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic belongs to Lauren Faust, Hasbro, Studio B and DHX Media.

We all have our slip-ups and lapses in our own moral code - to err is equine, after all. Even though I am a twenty-four-year-old stallion, I still feel tethered to my childhood and my inner child, always torn between living out the childhood that my strict mother had always denied me with her disciplinary ways and fulfilling my goals and dreams as a Wonderbolt. Though I compensate for such a loss with my goofy, happy-go-lucky personality and interest in all the fun and games that Ponies like Pinkie Pie are into, it is only when I am brazenly called out as a "manchild" do I find myself sober - conscious of where I am in my life and what I'm doing with it.

I am a celebrity, there is no denying that; however, when the show is over and what's left of the afterparty is a mild hangover and a bag full of leftovers, I find myself wondering if I've become nothing more than than a glutton - a hedonist with a juvenile sense of humor and a total lack of responsibility. I act on my own selfish impulses and end up making an ass out of myself, getting away with cheap excuses and the patience of others, feeling genuine regret until my conscience turns the whole incident into a footnote to file away in my rolodex of a brain and dooming myself to repeat the same stupid mistake over and over again.

I grew up in a very strict household. My dad divorced from my mother when I was only four years old due to an affair she had with another stallion, blaming him for failing to take responsibility for his own actions. Disillusioned by my dad's all-too carefree ways, my mother decided that if I was to ever be a real man, I would have to have discipline and lots of it. Whenever there was a problem or a lesson to be learned, mother always raised her voice to make sure that whatever had happened, I would never forget it. Every stolen cookie, every drawing on the wall and every little bit of trouble I got into was the equivalent of a war crime in her book. When I'd get caught, it felt like I was the victim of divine wrath, sobbing and cowering before the harsh bark of her scolding voice, the look of pure anger on her face and the very weight of her words crashing down upon my poor, prepubescent psyche. Every hesitant step towards the time-out corner made me feel like a convict taking his last few steps towards the gallows before the noose tightened around his neck.

When I reached the ripe old age of eight, I was more in control of my actions; but being naturally aware of the consequences of my excitable nature only made my punishments that much worse. Every little slip-up meant that I had to spend another day or two of being grounded, often spending weeks unable to play with my friends or have fun at a fair or carnival just because I acted like the kid that I was. Eventually, she got the memo that my own friends were a bad influence and decided to send me away to a boarding school for troubled foals.

She wasn't a complete monster, though. In fact, when I was well-behaved, she would smother me with affection and attention, bombarding me with cuddles and kisses and the like. But knowing how moms are supposed to be caring and affectionate, as well as knowing my own mother's draconian way of disciplining me, I became so desensitized to all of that motherly love that it practically meant nothing to me anymore - it was just something that a parent naturally did, not unlike the basic functions of a machine.

I never got to feel the simple joys of childhood adventure like so many of my would-be peers did, so when I eventually broke free of my mother's vice-grip on my life and joined the Wonderbolts, I felt so free and yet at the same time, empty, longing to compensate for the childhood I never had. After meeting Spitfire and the rest of the crew, who saw me as the greatest class clown to have ever lived, I decided to live the life of a party animal and a true celebrity, letting all the goofiness and craziness that had been bottled up inside me for too long finally flow freely like a screaming jet of champagne - which was quite often the drink of choice at nearly every party and soiree I've been to.

The joys and sensations of being a Wonderbolt were so awesome and so diverse, it was almost too much to bear! From the simple pleasures of park rides and carnival games of Manehatten's Pony Island to the affluent delights shared with Canterlot's elite and, of course, the good times I've spent with the hottest mare in Equestria: Spitfire. I was famous, wealthy, popular and loved by so many Ponies as a celebrity, but most importantly - I was happy for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The whole world felt so new and wonderful to me all over again, like the childhood I was never allowed to live as a child. My pained and restrained past felt like it was all behind me now; but unfortunately, it was anything but.

Before long, my inner child led me to become childish. I ate the food off of the plates of my own teammates, if not everything on the table. I became impatient and upset when I wasn't the center of attention, frequently performing some cheap trick or prank to get back in the spotlight. I developed a severe weakness for junk food and alcohol, occasionally to the point where there was none left for any of my teammates. I led the life of an unrestrained celebrity, not realizing the consequences of my actions until it was too late.

When I saw the Ponyville Express' headline "Soarin': Man of Action or Manchild?", my heart sank. I took a good, hard look around me and at myself, shellshocked by my sobering revelations. I had humiliated myself and my team, I betrayed my teammates and I became an utter laughing stock, having gained twenty-five pounds and a reputation for being a juvenile hedonist, good for little more than tabloid fodder. I was at rock bottom - my life was over. But at my darkest hour, I felt comforted by the voice of my best friend and captain - Spitfire.

Over the course of the next few months, Spitfire taught me how to be a man by learning to take full responsibility for my actions and their consequences, how to stand up for myself, how to stop being childish without forsaking my inner child and perhaps most important of all: how to be myself. But before I could do any of that, I had to let go of a lot of emotional baggage...

I had to let go of my inability to say "no" to my own desires at certain times.

I had to let go of my feeling guilty for things that I was not responsible for at all.

I had to let go of my instinct to blame every little problem on myself.

I had to let go of my feelings of inadequacy and thoughts of self-deprecation.

But most of all, I had to let go of my attachment to the childhood I never had. I had to stop living in the past and accept that all childhoods come to an end, all children outgrow their cribs, close friends will move away, toys will be forgotten and broken, pets will pass away and all I could do about it was acknowledge that I could do nothing about it. I had to move on with my life instead of trying to relive a part of it that will never return to me. It was hard and more than a few tears were shed, but it was for the best.

It was not long before the media took notice of my turning over a new leaf, hailing me as a true hero not for having the most medals or trophies, but for being able to overcome one's inner demons and personal obstacles. Even when I didn't believe in myself, I knew that there were so many other ponies that believed in me, soon realizing that one could conquer any fear, hardship or problem so long as they were willing to make a conscious effort to do so.

But even though I've grown up so much in the past year, I'm still the same Soarin' everypony loves - fun-loving, goofy, cheerful, optimistic and of course, always hungry after a good air show. All I that had changed was my childish attachment to things out of my control and cling onto the knowledge that I am responsible for all of my actions and everything that happens to me as a result of my actions. If I thought I could change for the better, then I could and I did.

And so can you.

Author's Note

This was roughly based on some of my own personal feelings and a bit of soul-searching I did minutes before I began writing.