Anonpencil Writes Drunk: A Break (oneshit)

>What even is this life? Who even are you anymore?
>You sit there staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation, just letting thoughts stream through your head in one, long, unbroken ribbon. You let the ideas and emotions flow together, changing fluidly from memories, to hopes, to recent hurts, to losses you’ve never gotten over. You just let the emotions happen to you, one after another, both morbidly loving how seamless it is, but also feeling a swelling in your chest. Like something in you is infected and wants to burst. You don’t even think it’s some Twilight experiment this time.
>As if sensing her name has crossed your lips, you hear the soft clipping of hooves as the princess of friendship passes your door. You shut your eyes tightly, and stop your rushing thoughts in order to say a small prayer that, at least for now, she keeps walking.
>The hoof-falls pass your door. Then stop. Then again head towards your room.
>Fuck.
>Before you can completely shake yourself loose from your own feelings, you hear a knock on your door. Before you can answer, the door bursts open and Twilight’s beaming, cheery face thrusts around the edge of the frame.
“Hey there Anon!” she says brightly. “If you’re not busy would you be interested in…”
>She stops. You didn’t really expect that shit, but maybe it’s the sight of you that surprises her. You’re sitting there, on the ground by your bed, your knees half-curled in towards you, just looking up. You’ve rolled your head sideways to look at her, and you can’t even muster up annoyance of frustration or welcoming (if you for some reason wanted that expression at least). Maybe it’s the blank, lifeless expression. Or maybe it’s just something in the air.
>I mean, you haven’t bathed in two days. So it could definitely possibly be that.
“What.” you say, and it’s barely a question.
“Oh,” she says haltingly. “I… I just… hey, are you okay?”
>She tilts her head at you like a questioning bird, and trots a little, tentatively closer.
“Eh,” you say honestly.
“What’s troubling you, maybe I could help?”
>You let out a sharp laugh, and she frowns at you, obviously a little offended.
“Look,” you say flatly, again moving your gaze towards the ceiling. “I know you have some plan for me, or some favor, or some question or something. I know you probably have to tell me you’ve adopted me, or that you cloned my dick and now it’s sentient.”
“Oh pish, I adopted you months ago and the cloning thing still isn’t working, you know that.”
“Anyway,” you say, choosing to ignore her words. “I know you have all that in mind. I know you are always busy and focused, and that I really have no power to stop it. But… right now… I… I…”
>The words become difficult for some reason.
“I don’t know that I can do it right now,” you manage to say, your voice wavering even as you try to keep it steady. “I don’t think I can be me, the way I usually am. I can’t make the jokes, the snide remarks, I can’t… deal with some new torture or pain or psychological trauma. I can… I can barely exist right now. Life is fucked, I’m fucked. Everyone is shit. It’s taking all the effort I have just to breathe and sit and… I don’t know, Twi. I’m so tired. Can’t it wait? Just this once? Please?”
>There’s a long, looming silence in the room. You shut your eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop waiting for her to hit you with a liter or figurative ton of bricks and force you back into this life you’re struggling through at the very best.
>Then, you hear the soft hoof-falls of Twilight come over to you, and there’s a soft ‘thud’ of her sitting down heavily beside you.
“Want to talk?” she says simply.
“No.”
“Want to be alone?”
“…no.”
“Then can I just… sit here with you a bit?”
>You glance down to find her looking up at you, earnestly, her expression just as worn and empty as your own. You feel a catch in your throat as you recognize your own feelings mirrored in her face. Maybe… maybe you’re not the only one who gets tired.
“Sure,” you say in almost a whisper.
>Twilight nods, then sits back with her head lying against the bed, staring up at the ceiling like you had been doing. You let out a long-held sigh, and follow suit. You shut your eyes, and silence resumes. Your mind starts to wander once more, but this time it feels… a little less heavy for some reason. Like you’re not the only one carrying the weight.
“You know, tomorrow I’m going to wreck your shit,” Twilight hisses at you.
“I know,” you say with a wry smile. “Tomorrow.”
>You’re still not sure what this life is anymore… but it’s a life, at least.

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