It was hard to say why I was here. I wasn't invited, and I wasn't wanted. Yet here I was, listening to all the festive voices and singing coming from inside. I was only slightly curious to what it looked like in there, but I was happy just waiting here.
The spring air was fresh and clean. It was nice to inhale that pure scent that announced a new season. Even the smallest of breaths were filled with the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. I even thought I could smell a hint of honey in the air.
The tree I was sitting in had close to completely budded out. The few buds left shining in the sun almost matched my eyes. If I looked straight up through the branches, I would be able to see specks of the sapphire sky above. There were probably only a few clouds drifting along it. The white cotton puffs only serving to make the sky an even deeper blue. I thought for a moment how easy it would have been to just fly up and out of sight.
But rather than the sky, my gaze was solely directed to the large building nearby. That was where the songs and voices were issuing from. The place I knew I wasn't welcome.
The sound of buzzing rang in my ear. Some bees were hovering just above my head. Probably after the honey I smelled, I thought. I had to say, this day looked perfect. And that's exactly how it was supposed to be. I leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes. My thoughts started spinning toward the past, and thinking back on the things that lead to this moment.
If anyone saw me, they would be wondering quite a few things. Like why I was sitting in a large tree outside a church. Why wasn't I in there, joining in on the laughter and singing? Why was I here at all?
They would have asked, that is, if anyone could see me. But I had made sure that I was completely hidden by the newly blossomed leaves. Nobody could see me unless they knew I was here to begin with. I didn't mind waiting out here. Sure I was missing the main experience, but I could at least see the end.
Besides, I didn't need to be in there. I would see pictures later and Fluttershy had already promised to tell me everything in detail. She had even said something about bringing a video recorder to record everything.
I've always had the feeling she knew about my plan from the beginning. She was smart, and she knew me. But she never really said anything about it to me or anyone else.
Lucky mare, I thought. She doesn't have as many things to worry about as I do. I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. Yeah, there are a lot of things I have to keep in mind and consider with every choice I make.
I closed my eyes again, letting a light sigh escape past my lips. In the past, I would be tempted to take a nap. With the warm air filled with fresh smells all around me it would be easy, but I was just a little too tense to sleep. A new scent drifted through the air. It was sweet and pungent, carried along on the breeze from somewhere. I recognized the scent almost instantly.
Roses.
I opened my eyes, staring hazily up at the cyan sky. A face hovered before my eyes, the image triggered by the passing scent. A name almost made it out of my mouth, but was stopped by pressed lips.
Pinkie…
I closed my eyes, a deep frown settling on my face. I couldn't help but wonder what she was feeling right now. The pink mare that had chased after me for years, how did she feel right now? Nervous, maybe. More likely happier than she's ever felt in her whole life. But then, this was a special day so of course she would be happy. And when she came through those doors after everybody else, I was sure she would look happier than she had ever looked before.
A burning sensation began to creep up the back of my throat, as if I just ate something bitter. It made my stomach twist around and soon filled my whole mouth with that nasty taste.
That was one of the reasons I was here, to see her happy. I could easily picture her smiles and laughs in my mind, but it had been a while since I had seen them face-to-face.
A small laugh left my mouth. It held no humor and didn't make me smile. It was a dry laugh, like it was made of old wood. The sound only came out to express the ironic thought that just went through my mind.
Somewhere out there were a number of ponies that, if they knew why I was here, would think, "Why the hell does she care?"
I know this, and frankly, I don’t blame them. If I were in their position, I would think the same thing. If they hated me, hated my very guts, I wouldn't blame them one bit.
In fact, I think a part of me wants them to hate me.
I hear it every day. Ponies telling me how great I am. Telling me how much they're indebted to me. Calling me a hero. Thanking me every time they get the chance for saving them from thugs or for saving a village from a tornado or whatever it was that I did to protect them all. They're always saying what a wonderful hero I am.
Bull.
"Wonderful heroes" don't hurt others.
"Great ponies" don't cause others pain.
If I'm such a "wonderful hero", why am I sitting in this tree instead of singing and laughing in there?
If I'm so great, why is my stomach sick with guilt?
I don't blame them if they hate me. I wish they did.
Because then I would be getting some form of punishment for hurting her.
How many times did Pinkie said she loved me? How many times was it that she tackled me with her hugs, trying to convince me of her love? How many times was it that she politely and kindly requested some of my time, just to be with me?
And how many times did I tell her tell her it wasn't real? How many times did I push her away, saying I didn't want that? How many times did I tell her to beat it, or get lost?
How many times did she call me great or her hero? And how many times did I call her annoying or a pest?
How many times did she run after me? How many times more did I run away?
That burning sensation spread. It was like some kind of whirlpool spinning bigger and bigger inside me. Black burning colors and emotions, just waiting to swallow me should I dwell too long.
Why? All those who hated me were probably asking that question. It was one I sometimes asked myself. Why did I do that to her? Why did I say such spiteful things? She did anything and everything she could think of to prove that she loves me and always would. She deserved so much better but still chased after me. So why?
Because it was the only thing I could do.
I want her to be happy. I want her to have the best this world has to offer. I want her eyes to sparkle with happiness and joy all the time. I want to make sure she stays safe from all harm. I want to make sure nothing in this whole wide world can ever hurt her.
Although I acted as if I didn't share her feelings, acted like she was just a friend or that I thought she was annoying, it wasn't true. I did and still do love her.
But to ensure her happiness, to guarantee her safety, is something I don't think I can completely do. That is why, to guarantee her happiness and safety for good, she had to learn to hate me.
It was never easy; saying things I didn't mean, doing things I knew hurt her. Every cruel thing I said echoed in my mind. It was like a never-ending chorus that went on every day.
And every time I did something to hurt her, I felt like something was stabbing me in the chest. When I would run away from her, I would always look back. Even though I already knew what I would see, I always would.
And every time I saw the look on her face, saw her eyes glittering with tears waiting to spill, I would want to spin around and dash back to her. I would want to never to see her face filled with so much pain or to see her eyes glittering with tears again. I would want to take back everything I had said and did, to hold her close and stop her crying for good.
But I never did. I always kept running.
I would run until I had collapsed from exhaustion in the middle of nowhere. Her face would still be flashing in my mind. I felt the urge the claw my eyes out many times, because then I would never have to see that look on her face again.
The pain it caused me to hurt her like that was unimaginable. The guilt I felt ate away at me every second of every day. It was as if some kind of creature had crawled inside me and clawed away at my insides every time I did or said something to her, when I would even think of her. A cancer or disease, something that would eventually destroy me if it went on for too long.
But I knew it would be nothing compared to what I would feel if something happened to her.
What I did for a living was dangerous and I had a lot of enemies because of it. She would be put in danger simply because she was involved with me as a friend, what would happen if they knew she meant more to me than that? The thoughts of what might happen to her haunted me.
I told myself that the pain and guilt I felt now would be nothing, nothing, compared to what I would feel should she be hurt.
Or even worse, die.
And want if something happened to me? What if I let those feeling grow and something happened? What if I messed up? What if one day, I went off on a mission and didn't come back? When I think of the suffering that would put Pinkie through, the pain and depression she would go through….
That's why I pushed her away.
That's why I ran.
That's why I said things I didn't mean.
That's why I said the things I knew hurt her.
That's why I wanted her to hate me.
I wanted her to think I was the worst pony in Equestria. I wanted her to hate me in a way that was almost unimaginable.
Because if she did, if she hated me, she wouldn't be around me anymore. Then all those who wanted to hurt me wouldn't hurt her. All the danger I had to face would never reach her.
When I had first thought up this plan, I thought it would be simple. Turn Pinkie down, telling her I didn't feel the same way or whatever the excuse I gave her was. I thought she might come back a second or third time to try to convince me otherwise, but then I thought she would get over me. I thought that she would see that I didn't like her that way and would try to move on. Try to find someone who did feel that way for her. Someone who wouldn't put her in danger simply by being with her.
However, I failed to take into account her stubbornness. When we were younger, I had made the mistake of telling her that her feelings weren't real.
Hah. What a lot of good that did. It just made her go and try twice as hard to prove that they were real. She claimed she would chase me to the end of time if she had to.
And even when I told her I didn't like her that way, that I only thought of her as friend she would always say otherwise. "I can see it in your eyes," she would claim. "You do love me, Dashie!"
It hurt then to just say that to her. The guilt of lying to her had been smaller, but it had still been there.
I had changed my plan. I thought that after a year she would finally understand.
She didn't. In fact, she just seemed to grow more determined.
I realized that simply turning her down and telling her I didn't love her wasn't going to cut it. I realized that as long as she thought she loved me, she would never give up. She would always stay by my side whether I said I wanted her to or not.
That is when I realized I had to make her stop loving me. I had to make her think she didn't love me.
I had to make her think she hated me.
Otherwise, she would never be truly happy or safe.
The thought of Pinkie hating me wasn't something I pictured, nor was it something I wanted. I almost thought against it. I almost thought about giving it all up completely. I considered telling her everything and then protecting her like I do half the world.
But then the next day there was another attack. And Pinkie was put in the hospital just for trying to help me. Just because she was my "friend".
Although the thought of Pinkie hating me and what I would have to do to make that happen was loathsome, if that's what it took for her to be happy and safe then it's what I had to do.
I remember growing afraid that running away and verbal pain wouldn't be enough. Her love always seemed to grow stronger every day. I remember worrying, "what if it's too strong?"
"What if she can't ever learn to hate me?"
"What if I can't drive her away fast enough and something happens to her?"
The older we got, the more afraid I grew. I started to worry something would happen to her even if I claimed we were only friends.
And the more afraid I got, the more pain I seemed to cause her.
Then I noticed a change in Pinkie’s behavior. I started seeing her less and less. I had wondered if something might be wrong with her. I worried that she might be sick or something.
It was only a little voice in my head that wondered if my words and actions were finally starting to have an effect.
It was almost a whole month before we actually spoke to each other. I noticed right away that she was acting different. It was almost like she was trying to act happy around me.
I can't remember what I said exactly. It might have been the same old thing or it might have been something worse. But after whatever it was I said…
Pinkie snapped.
The last time I spoke with her, or rather the last time I hurt her, was almost two years to this date. That was last time I had to see her cry. The last time I had to hurt her with my words and actions.
But that last time I wasn't the one who ended it. I wasn't the one who said the painful words, and I wasn't the one who left the other standing there alone.
It was Pinkie. She was the one who said the hurtful things. She was the one who snapped in annoyance. She was the one who turned and left, who ran away to leave me standing alone.
She said she hated me.
She called me things I could never repeat aloud.
She said things that, when I repeated in my mind, sounded a thousand times worse. They seemed to tear me up inside. Like they were ripping my heart to shreds.
As I watched her retreating back I thought, is this how Pinkie felt? Is this the same kind of pain that I caused her? I knew what I did and said hurt her. I knew that every time I ran away from her she was hurt. I knew every time I said something mean, or told her to go away and bother someone else, it caused her pain. But…
But I never even imagined it could have hurt like this. I never considered exactly how much pain and suffering I put her through.
And now that I had a personal experience, I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to find some other way to keep her away from me. Find some way that wouldn't hurt her so much.
Because she only did this to me once, and I did it to her god knows how many times. And if it hurt this much from just that one time, how much more did it hurt the second time?
Or the third?
Or the tenth?
Or how ever many times it was that I hurt her? Exactly how much pain did I cause her before she finally snapped, before she finally had enough of me, before she finally hated me?
But of course, one can't change the past. No matter how hard they wish they could.
Even now that guilt assaults me. Every time I picture her crying, hurt face that guilt eats away at me. But at the same time I know it's over. I know I will never have to see or cause her tears again. I'll never have to run away from her, or say things I don't really mean.
Because now, I don't have that effect on her. I'm no longer the one she goes running after, or the one she tackles with her hugs. I'm no longer the one she would chase to the end of time. I'm no longer the one she loves.
My left ear twitched. Turning my head I saw the doors had opened. Ponies were starting to come out of the large church. Their voices carried all the way over to me, but the sounds were so jumbled up I couldn't make sense of them. I managed to see a flash of light yellow through the crowd. Probably Fluttershy darting around with her camera.
It was Fluttershy that I heard it from. She had been a good sport and keep me up to date on anything that was happening with Pinkie, seeing as I could only watch her from afar and not ask her myself.
Almost a year after our final confrontation, she told me Pinkie was seeing someone.
His name escapes me. He worked at her job and they had apparently met some few years before hand. It seems that he had had a bit of a crush on Pinkie, but she had always been too busy chasing after me to realize it. After we "parted ways" as you could say, they started to spend a lot of time together.
It wasn't long until they were officially going out as coltfriend and marefriend.
Pinkie started spending less and less time with all of us. She started to spend more time with him and his friends and family. She made new friends outside our little group. I hear she still sees Twilight a lot and calls Fluttershy from time to time. But she has a new life now and doesn't have as much time for the old things as she used to.
Ponies began to stomp the ground and cheer. I saw two figures standing in the open doors. A dark silver unicorn with purple eyes stood smiling nervously. He was dressed in a black tuxedo. Beside him was the now twenty-two year old Pinkie Pie, beaming joyfully in her pure white dress.
I couldn't remember a time when I saw her look so happy.
I'm glad that she's happy now. I'm glad that she's safe with him. He is a normal stallion. He doesn't have any dangerous enemies. He doesn't have to save ponies every other day and make enemies almost twice as much.
I check on her from time to time, just to make sure she's as happy as she seems. Just to make sure it isn't just an act of some kind. But she's as happy at home as she is anywhere else.
Their running down the steps now, laughing under the falling streamers and seeds as they run towards the pegasus-drawn chariot. They run right under the tree I'm sitting in. This is the closest I've gotten to Pinkie in a long time. I turn my head and watch as they get in the chariot, waving back at their friends and family.
I let a small smile cross my face as they soar away. I leaned back against the tree, staring up at the sky.
I'm glad Pinkie’s happy and that she's safe. It's what I've truly wanted for all these years. I don't think she could be any happier.
But no matter how happy she is, I don't think this guilt or pain will ever really leave. I put her through a lot of pain. I caused her a lot of suffering. Even if it was to protect her, the means don't justify the end. Not enough to matter at least.
What if I could go back in time and have another chance, only to find that there was no other way I could have done it. Would I do it again anyway?
The guilt seems to grow as I think of the answer: yes.
Maybe as I watch her grow happier the guilt will loosen up. But I don't think it could ever go away. Not completely.
And I don't think I want it to. When you hurt someone, you should be punished. The burning guilt and pain I feel is my punishment.
I close my eyes, thinking that now I may take that nap.
I may be a little jealous of him. After all, he has the mare I love. But really I respect him. Because he did what I didn't and can do what I can't.
He says he loves her. He doesn't push her away, he holds her close. He stays with her without even being asked. He doesn't run away from her, he runs to her.
He makes her happy and keeps her safe.
That's what I've wanted for her, to be happy and safe. She couldn't get that while loving me. That's why she had to hate me.
It's fine.
It's okay.
The pain I felt lying and hurting her and the guilt that now assaults me every day for doing it is fine. I can live with it. It's the punishment I deserve and I can accept that.
As long as she's happy and safe, that's all that matters.
