Soul Heartbeat

https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/28871960

-Monday-
>What a shitty way to start the week
>Monday always has that thought coming around, though
>Too bad it won't disappear forever
>Maybe if it did, you'd be trapped in a sci-fi time-loop where you'd never have to work your job ever again
>You can't bring to words how much you've grown to detest that place and everyone that works there
>What cruel fate handed you the go-to-jail card?
>However, it didn't look like a jail card, at first
>The work description was simple, with qualifications that finally fit you
>Never before have you jump so fast on an opportunity
>There was hope
>Hope that weekday mornings wouldn't hold your body to the bed, weighed down with emotional iron
>Hope that friends, if only a few, may finally return to your sad existence
>It was supposed to be the answer you sought for so long
>"The one" to kick you into gear, forcing in the light of a satisfying adult life
>But too bad though
>The universe had a different plan
>Once fun tasks became mundane, ever repeating and changing only when corporate saw necessary
>The repetition, like a sculptor, carved away at your five-day stationary body, slowly chipping away the shell of enthusiasm
>On the social side, your coworkers grew to avoid contact, mirroring your antisocial actions when first hired
>And while it started coming from just you, jokes and banter always had dashes of spite and annoyance from all sides
>They are all irritating, anyway
>The company vs Anon: The troll of the office
>But the day is over, and you're home
>As you open the door to your apartment that's nestled in a crappy neighborhood, a destiny chosen from the high price of living alone, your one excuse for life charges at you
>Dropping down to embrace, the small pony collides into your arms
>The soft fur melts away the exhaustion from the day
>If only the sands of time would halt, pausing so you could eternally enjoy the affection
>But the sun still sets, and night will take its place, pushing forward another day

-Tuesday-
>Your boss had you suddenly come into his office this morning
>It was a conventional space, by office standards
>The walls were a rather ugly shade of green, covered with company posters and motivational quotes
>A single, large desk claimed dominance over the floor with a chair in front and his fancier throne behind
>The carpeted floor honestly looked a lot more comfortable than your seat
>Apparently, you're here because someone overheard a rather crude remark that was shot from under your breath
>The snitch is unknown, but you have a gut feeling that your sly remark to the chatterbox girl who wouldn't shut up earlier is the culprit
>Your voice was obviously a little too loud
>He explained that such profanities were a violation of company policy, and that you could get fired for it
>If one of your coworkers was in this situation, they would be in a tizzy, but you just sit there, apathetic yet annoyed, impatiently waiting for the lecture and day to conclude
>Now, five hours later, you're walking home in the rain, cold and swearing
>It wasn't supposed to rain
>In fact, it feels so cold, it may as well start snowing
>At least the snow is enjoyable
>Fortunately, you brought a waterproof jacket, but your bag isn't so lucky
>Attempts to keep it from getting drenched fail, as the pregnant skies pour with a ferocity
>Your shoes feel like a portable swamp, and your pants, nearly just as soaked, darken, adding on more water
>Finally, after travelling approximately two miles from your bus stop, home is within reach
>You work at pulling out your keys, simultaneously brainstorming on how you’re going to keep everything inside from getting wet
>Removing your jacket is a good start
>The outward covering above the row of doors is keeping the immediate ground dry, so you drop it beside the entrance
>Once in, the pants go down and are placed atop your bag
>They are lackadaisically thrown into the tiny laundry room, located just left upon stepping inside
>You look around
>Where on earth is your pony?
>She is normally waiting at the door
>Not bothering with putting on a new pair of pants, you scan the apartment
>Being so small, it wasn't difficult to spot her
>Across the room to the left, she's sleeping on a blanket that's covering the couch, peaceful and calm
>Careful not to disturb her, you tiptoe your way over and slide under
>Reclining into a spooning position, she continues to rest, now against your stomach
>She was never a very active pony, even when first arriving into your life
>The days are usually spent lying around, casually liquidating the hours to leisure
>But you know that doesn't detract from her quality of life
>It's a life lived in bliss
>A life of satisfaction and joy brought from your company
>And that pleasure is what matters the most
>Now cozy yourself, you gingerly start stroking her fur
>Starting from the neck, the ends of her silky but slightly messy, dark blue hair, almost black even, glide off your hand, making way for the pale blue coat to slip underneath
>Upon reaching her tail, a similar silky mess, you restart, the movement like clockwork
>Each completed brush gradually takes the place of your clock's hands, manually setting the speed of time themselves
>The only time that's this precious to you
>Comfortable, the hunger that poked at you before to eat dies down
>Instead, you flick on the TV, the volume still low from the night before
>News from your local community lightly whispers events from the day
>Uninterested, you peer back down at your motionless friend
>She's always so quiet when sleeping, never making so much as a peep
>Even though hearing light whinnies occasionally slipping out would warm your heart like nothing else, you can't complain
>Not about this
>It's all you have

-Wednesday-
>You take a millionth glance at the time on your computer
>Almost done
>Eight hours has dragged on heavy today
>For whatever reason, finding focus has been a near impossible task
>Routinely, you stop to take a breather, attempt to get back on track, and then fall off again
>Dulling out the boredom with getting lost in the job just is not happening
>Your restless legs sure don't help either, but it feels like something more
>You have little desire to dedicate thought to the tick, though
>Because there's only one thought that feeds your mind:
>With each minute that passes, you're one step closer to cuddling with your pony
>Picturing her smiling face pushes you through the home stretch
>With 20 minutes left, and much to your dismay, your boss saunters over to your office room, holding a beat-up clipboard
>Barely moving your body, you turn your head over to see what he could possibly want
>His face, seated above a monkey suit, is not carrying good news
>How badly will this end
>Standing tall, he delivers the misfortune
>"Hey, Anon, sorry for telling you this so late, but I need you to stay for another hour. We've had some delays lately, and this project needs to be finished."
>No fucking way
"Really? Leaving in an hour is going to put me right smack in the middle of rush hour traffic. Are you sure no one else is available?"
>"No, you're the only one. I'll see to it that you're paid time and a half for it, though, but I really need you to stay a bit longer."
>You sigh passive aggressively, lacking the energy to fight back
"Whatever."
>That triggers him to fire off a critical judgment before returning to his own duties, murmuring something you can't care less about
>Waiting for him to disappear, you lean back in your chair.
>With a now 0% desire to even lift a finger, the computer screen engulfs your vision, a canvas to paint a picture of any world but the one you're currently trapped in
>You'll work on this more tomorrow
>…
>The door unlocks
>Upon swinging it open, you flip on the light, and your mini horse is sitting with an unwavering patience
>The built up anger slips away
>You kneel down and lift her into your arms, hugging tightly onto the love radiating from her heart
>Her muzzle nuzzles into your cheek
>Fighting with all the strength in your body, your legs bring themselves back to standing
>Tempted to go straight to the couch, you yell at yourself internally to bypass that trap
>Instead, you seat yourself at your desktop PC, turning it on, and work an arm around the pony that has settled herself on your lap
>Beeps and blips chirp from the computer as it boots up
>Your hand habitually begins petting as the machine decides when it wants to load the home screen
>After about a minute, you stop and type in your password, then load up Internet Explorer
>It's well known that there are better options, but a fondness has grown for the clunky program, over the years
>You type in "Craigslist" into the search bar, not sure of where else to start
"Time to find something different."


-Thursday-
>Your blurry vision slowly comes into focus, the morning's window-filtered sunlight dancing in pools caught by sleepy eyelashes
>Wait?
>Sunlight!
>Your heart blasts a beat out of existence, and the air solidifies into stone
>Every organ goes from zero to a hundred
>You thrash your head around to see your clock, desperately hoping its red, digital text is not off
>You stare in disbelief
>It's an hour past when you were supposed to get up
>Again
>Profanities spew from your mouth with such intensity that even the most liberal of jobs would have fired you without a flinch
>Blankets mummify your pony as you bolt out of bed, neck 'n' neck with the speed of sound, and your face nearly meets the floor with the grace of a hippo
>Recovering, you grab your phone and investigate as to why it didn't wake you
>The device remains black when clicked
>Shit, you forgot to charge it
>Piece of crap is dead
>You fumble with the charger, still stuck in the outlet
>Not even bothering to untangle it, you plug the bastard in
>Life flows through the phone's circuits, light re-emitting from the screen
>You were kind of hoping it just stopped working overnight, giving you an excuse for being late
>Should have gotten a clock with a built in alarm too
>Still being nearly naked, the teeth of the cold, sun-starved air bite at you hard enough to finally prompt getting dressed
>Fresh clothes are sporadically yanked from the closet, your body shivering
>The panic makes putting them on akin to a WWE fight
>If only this, too, was fake
>With the wrestling match won, you dash out of your room and go straight to shifting through the pantry to find something that can be eaten in as few bites as possible
>Dry cereal
>Your default
>You drill into the box and begin stuffing your cheeks like a rabid chipmunk
>With eat cheek ready to burst, you run over and quickly dig through your bag to make sure you have everything necessary
>And wouldn't ya know, the wallet is missing
>You try cursing, but bits of cereal just fly out of your mouth, littering the floor
>You'll clean that later
>Instead, the apartment is immediately searched
>Every space without the wallet drives your anxiety higher and higher
>The two longest minutes of your life pass before discovering it under your computer monitor
>Trying to be prepared last night, you thought that having your information ready would be smart
>You were looking for jobs after all
>Fuck, what were you thinking
>Nothing, that's what, being so dead from overtime
>It's propelled into your bag and then you're propelled out the door, almost forgetting to lock your home
>Doing your best to balance running with not becoming a sweaty mess, regrets for staying up so late manifests with a vengeance
>This is why you avoid your computer like the plague at night
>After unsuccessfully searching for jobs, you veered off course and ended up on YouTube and shitposting on 4chan, leaving four hours for sleep
>Four hours is not enough for you to function on
>And then to have nearly run on top of it...
>You finally reach the peak of the last hill before the straight stretch to your bus stop
>Going to check the bus's ETA, your chest suffers another blow from a pounding heart
>…
>SHIT
>In your hurry, you forgot your phone at home
>Just perfect
>Where is that meteor that NASA says is going to crash into Earth?

>The bus stop in front of your job comes into view
>You've kept your grip tight on a vertical bar connected to the first seat next to the door, remaining standing the whole time
>A complete opposite to the sleeping-on-the-back-of-the-bus guy you typically are
>The AC's also been dripping cold air down your face and neck the whole time
>Why the drivers reserve warm air for only the absolute coldest of days and otherwise blow Antarctica is beyond you
>Albeit a freezing human icicle, this is probably the first time you've ever stood up for an entire morning bus commute
>Maybe the other passengers interpret that as eagerness from a real go-getter
>But really, sitting down would just agitate your nerves even more
>Every inch closer to being out is an inch worth taking
>Inertia suddenly pulls your body forward as the vehicle slows down
>Other people begin piling up behind you and form what can barely be called a line
>Normally being the last one, heading the conglomerate rustles up unease
>With a final jolt as it halts, moving everyone in tandem, the gates to freedom hiss and swing open
>You are the first one off by a mile
>With the legs of an Olympian sprinter and the sound of concrete slapping beneath your shoes, about 50 feet and two flights of stairs between the stop and the building are covered with record time
>For you, that is
>Finally, slowing down as to not crash, you come face-to-face with the main entrance, solid and white and only decorated with the company logo
>The door knob slips between your clammy fingers, but, heavy to the touch, your arm is left almost immobile
>The future waiting on the other side can't be pretty
>Maybe if you walk in as if nothing happened, your boss won't notice
>However, one of your bitch coworkers will probably tattle on you
>You were just in the bathroom, that's all
>Play it cool
>Finally yanking, the metal frames pivot the door open, and you casually walk inside
>Your head remains up, but your eyes stare into nothingness, never meeting anyone's glower
>It's best to avoid the break room that holds the clock-in device
>Today's story is that clocking in slipped your mind, knowing that the boss can add your hours in later
>Passing it by, low murmurs babbling generic work conversation swipe across your ear
>With a final turn of a corner, you make it to your desk
>You shuffle around to get the space in order, hoping to covertly assimilate into the background without notice
>The computer awakens with a press of a key, and you plop your ass into your chair
>With each passing second of the static atmosphere, tension gently dissipates around you
>The rather surprising lack of commotion seeds hope for a day not coated in even more stress
>You feel like some kind of secret spy escaping with critical information
>Everyone is none the wiser
>"Anon,"
>In a split second, your emotional gravity pulls all the tension back down, crashing like an asteroid
>A stealthy spy you are not
>"Where have you been? You're an –hour- late."
>Once again, your boss's voice withers away seeds of hope
>You rotate your chair around to face him, trying to force out one excuse at a time
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. My phone died overnight, so its alarm didn't wake me up."
>"Really?"
>Much to your dismay, he enters your room and bends over to level his mouth with your ear
>Blood is pumped faster through already strained veins
>He lets out a minute yet heavy sigh, lowering his volume to a near whisper
>"That's no excuse. Is that still your only alarm?"
>Now, your volume matches his, fingers fidgeting
"Yeah"
>"We've talked about this before, remember? Why don't you have a backup yet?"
"I...I don’t know. I guess I'll get one tomorrow. Anyway, it's what happened. I'll just get to work right now."
>Your attempt to return to your computer is thwarted by another mouthful of belittlement
>His tone changes into something between irritated and fed up
>"I'm not done yet. I've also been trying to get a hold of you this whole time, which I shouldn't have to do. Even if it died, why didn't you call and let me know what happened? Could you not charge it or something?"
"Yeah, I plugged it in, but I was so focused on getting here as fast as possible that I forgot to call."
>A laugh lathered in disbelief jolts from his throat
>"Forgot? Anon, even a simple text would have worked, even on your way over"
"Well, I accidentally left it at home."
>His hand squeezes the bridge of his nose
"I told you, I was totally focused on getting here ASAP."
>You expect a response, but he's quiet
>Waiting for any word, the tick of a distant mechanical clock adds up the cumulating discomfort
>"I've told you this before. Being this late is not acceptable."
>He then gets up, back now facing you
"I know, I know, I won't let it happen again."
>Before exiting, he teases his departure by stopping and placing his hand against your work space's wall, as if preparing to depart with a final rant
>The small amount of time is spent thinking up more excuses
>Fortunately, he leaves without a breath
 >You finish the day otherwise uninterrupted

-Friday-
>BUZZ BUZZ
>An all too familiar ringing bumps your sleeping conscious back into reality, prompting dreary eyes to open
>Darkness peaks through the window blinds, sprinkled with the glow of street lights
>That can only mean you woke up on time
>The slumber is rubbed from your eyes, and limbs are stretched back into use
>Flopping over to face the bed stand, your lazy arm silences the shrieking phone, and the table lamp is flicked into life
>It's an almost pleasant sensation to hear the annoying alarm this morning
>Relief, as well as a chill, trickles across your body
>Had you woken up late again, there'd be hell to pay
>Two days in a row would surely get you fired
>But you made it through another week, and regardless of what was thrown at you, it's Friday
>Finally
>You rotate back over to see if your pony has awoken too
>Remaining stable, you assume her mind is preoccupied with dreams
>What a beautiful creature
>You'll get up anytime and any day for her
>Or try to, at the very least
>Unable to resist, your fingers give her a light ear-scratch before unshackling the bed sheets from your body and crawling onto the floor
>Running through the morning routine, your thoughts are immersed with fantasies of how to spend the weekend
>Just a few more hours before embarking on more or less two days booked full with pony snuggles
>Or maybe you'll take her outside to a park again
>While it can seem like an impossible task, you did manage to find a jacket to keep her warm
>It probably isn't necessary, but she doesn't fight it
>You whip out your phone to check the weather
>Unfortunately, stormy days and nights are forecasted
>Well, staying inside and cuddling is just as good
>That's what will most predictably end up happening anyway
>The stress from these past couple of days have taken their toll, and her fur nestled between your chest and arms is the best cure
>You can push through one more day, just for her
>Finished with your ritual, you collect your belongings, and head off to work

>A jostle from the breaking bus shakes you from a light slumber
>Groggy, your feet stand you up and drag themselves out from the back
>In contrast to yesterday's sprint, the effortless dash has returned to the regular burdensome stride of climbing a mountain
>The prison, a five-day summit, eventually meets you one-on-one
>You stare down your opponent, building up motivation
"Come on," you tell yourself. "it's only eight hours. Then, you're home free."
>After seconds, a familiar creak gives way, and you step inside
>Infiltrating the break room to punch in, you pace through the motions of the morning, clocking in and ignoring your coworkers
>However, something different breaks the cycle
>When returning to your office, none other than your boss is standing, parallel to the outside wall, erect as the dick he is
>Your attitude looks down over the edge, ready to jump
>The day hasn't even started.
>What could he possibly want?
"Hey," you jester with minimal emotion
>Your greeting seems to go right through him
>"Anon, I need you to come with me into my office."
>Again?
>Does he get joy out of this, or something?
"Uh, sure, just let me start up my computer."
>Attempting to enter, he blocks your path
>"No, you need to come into my office now."
>His tone of voice is different from normal, hinting to something unsettling, like a ghost haunting his tongue
>It prompts your stomach to twist and turn
"O-Okay..."
>You're lead into his dungeon, and he instructs you to close the door before taking a seat
>Now guarded behind his thrown, his hands overlap one another, the front sides of his fingers pressed just above his eyes
>Waiting in silence, you notice that the desk is clean and clear of clutter, and it appears that he hasn't even unpacked his own bag
>Maybe that means you'll be in and out of here quickly
>You'll just offer your generic responses, giving him what he wants to hear, and then return to your work
>The faster you can drown the time, the faster you'll get back home
>After a moment, he exhales from his nose, the air as thick as a swampy fog
>"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm going to be straightforward."
>His hands drop from his face
>"I'm letting you go."
>A sledgehammer smashes into your psyche, and blood flow frosts over
"W-What?"
>"I've talked about this with my higher ups, and it's been decided that you just aren't fitting in well here. The-"
>You interject
"Why? Is it because I don't get along the best with people?"
>Vivid emotion tightens your throat
"I mean, I still come in and do my job. W-Why am I being fired?"
>"I was about to tell you, and It's a combination of things. First, you've been late three times in this past month, and not once have you handled it properly."
"Okay, I know I'm late sometimes, but I still do the work. I get things done."
>"But being late can get you fired, and you know this, not to mention that each time was at least an hour. This is just like any other job."
"I, uh..."
>"And speaking of getting things done, you've actually been underperforming for a while. More and more of your projects are coming in late, and I've also been having to push you to complete them. Heck, even then, other employees occasionally have to pick up the slack."
>Tears crack through your efforts to remain composed
"It's..."
>Leaning forward in your chair, speaking increasingly becomes ever more difficult
"I-I know I can do this. Just tell me what I need to do differently. I swear, I will do it!"
>"Anon, please, just...just let me finish."
>You solidify
>"Now then, the final strike against you is because of the way you behave around and treat other employees. I've told you before, the way you talk to everyone here is rather unacceptable. In fact, some of the things you've been caught saying should have gotten you fired months ago."
>Speechless, he continues after a few seconds of silence
>"This isn't fun for me, but, look, every time something happened, you kind of pretended it didn't. All those problems were pushed aside, and they finally built up to the point where they finally broke. You were given many, many chances, but there's nothing I can do now. The decision has been made."
>Deflated breaths are all you can muster
>He gets up and bends down, mindlessly shuffling through his bag, obviously not wanting to confront the faint but visible tears running down your cheeks
>Face to the floor, he continues speaking
>"There's no need to stay here today. Go collect your things. If you need a bag, we have extra. I'll also have you paid until the hour."
"So..."
>A swallow interrupts you
"just...gather my stuff and go?"
>"Yeah."
>You want to be mad. You want to argue, but, honestly, your draining emptiness dominates
>Even if you were to force yourself to continue fighting, it'll only end in more waterworks
>It's hard enough to hold back crying now, but to inevitably crack and bawl in front of your boss isn't worth the effort
>Defeated, your body hoists itself up
>From the point of leaving your chair to exiting and closing the office door, every squeak and slide commands full attention, making sure your emotion is laid out in every movement
>Your boss remains bent down the whole time
>As you sloth yourself into your workstation, passing coworkers furtively peer at the hurt braided upon your sleeve
>Their judgmental glares fill up on your broken state
>If only you could just disappear
>You quickly close your door to have some emotional privacy
>There are only a few knick knacks and other personal decorations scattered amongst the desk
>You think about just leaving everything: none of these have much of an attachment to you
>Expect for the picture of your pony
>They are otherwise small things, like a welcome gift from one of the employees and a small clock that had long ago run out of battery
>However, knowing that any of them will be thrown away if left here pools discomfort in your chest
 >You aimlessly pile them into your shoulder bag with a few sweeps of your arm
>Barely zipping and not bothering to rearrange the contents, it's then clumsily dropped over your shoulder
>The space now as blank as the day you arrived, you almost stop to take in once last eye-full to entertain a faint desire for remembrance sake, but, at this point, it isn't even worth it
>Your bag and you open the door and take the walk toward the exit one last time
>Softly marching down the hall, each footstep feels like thunder, lucidly confessing your failure, until the exit stands parallel to your face
>Turning the doorknob, you are brought outside
>Light floods your body, bouncing off your watery eyes, and with a couple steps and a swing, the past slams shut from behind
>Now, you can't help but cry

-Saturday-
>The darkness of sleep gives way to the darkness of night
>Slumber still holding on to half your mind, you dozily look at your red, glowing clock
>2:23 AM
>Attempts to rouse thought leads to a disjointed mess
>Eventually, they calm, allowing you to drift back away

...

>Distant birds chirp through muffled glass
>Their singing brings you back into the world, and midday light flicks off the bed sheets
>Your eyes feel stung by tears, not wanting to open
>The blankets, soft slabs of concrete, confine you in a single position
>It's not worth the effort to move

…

-Sunday-
>The late-night news plays as you slouch farther into your couch
>The hosts offer nothing but the most sensationalist catastrophes of the day
>It all blows through your head like wind through a pipe anyway
>At this point, your pony has moved herself into your armpit, snug like a child with its mother
>Her fur pushes up around your arm as you tenderly tighten your one-arm hug
>It's all too cute, especially seeing her nose sheltered beneath your hand
>At least you have this
>Interrupting the snuggle session, your growling stomach demands attention, having been starved all day
>You strive to ignore it, but the beast's gargles pressure you into finally eating something
>Five minutes are spent before finally dragging your lazy ass into the kitchen, hauling your horse with you
>The fridge yawns with icy breath and displays its meals
>Nothing good
>Cooking is way too much effort as well
>Your search is switched to the freezer where frozen mac 'n' cheese tickles your fancy
"Good enough"
>You grab the food and set your pony on your modest, wooden dinner table
"You stay here, now."
>Ripping apart the box, you remove the plastic covering and throw it in the microwave for 3 minutes
>Waiting, the drone of the machine sends you into a kind of a trance
>Round and round and round it goes...
>Three sharp beeps bring you back into reality, and strong, cheese based aromas flood your senses upon breaching the microwave
"This'll probably last me the day."
>You can go to the store later
>You don't even know what you need
>Carefully pinching it by the seams, you hover it over and place it on your table
>Fetching a spoon, your pony stares at you as you seat yourself, eyes locked like planets in orbit
>Her puppy-dog glare forms a barrier between the utensil and your mouth, before you can get in a bite
"Hey, you want some, girl?"
>Her gaze does not budge
"I'll take that as a yes."
>Scooping a spoonful of your lunch, it's pressed against her snout
>Cheese sticks to the hairs as you pull away
"No need to be shy. Go on, eat. I want you to."
>Bringing the spoon above her muzzle, you rotate it sideways, gravity prompting the macaroni to plop into her face
>The third piece proves to be too much, and all the food falls, splattering against the table
>A tiny smile docks on your face
"Little Miss Messy," you say, scratching her ears. "Maybe if I get a fresh scoop."
>You plunge the spoon back into the dish, and dig up a fresh serving, light amounts of steam crawling into nothingness
"Here you go."
>This time around, you shove the food into her, and wiggle it around
>After a few swipes, you stop
>Her face is covered in hot cheese, and it's even managed to get itself into the stitching in her eyes
>And, as usual, she never makes a sound
>You freeze in frame, blankly focused on your lifeless friend
>Only your breathing can be heard
>After about half a minute, you scoot your chair out, turn off the kitchen lights, and travel back onto the couch, leaving your pony untouched
>She remains motionless, glowing in the light of the TV
>Your ass sinks into the previous impression, mild attention returning to the dismal news
>"A local mall thief has been arrested today after..."
>Soon, their words begin to blur, and speech gets tied together
>The world dims
>Everything goes black

-Monday-
>What a shitty way to start the week