Rebels in Equestria 12.5 - Memoirs of a Madman

> It’s not easy to come ‘home’ from war.
> I know it wasn’t for me.

> Even if you’re lucky enough to have survived mentally and physically, you still have to get used to the fact that most can’t relate to where you’ve been.
> To what you think.
> What you’ve seen.
> How you feel.
…
> But most importantly, what you’ve done.

> When I explained to Rarity, I could see the look of confusion and sympathy in her eyes.
> But I also feel as if I’m losing her trust.

> I don’t blame her.
> I know that no matter how hard I’ve tried explaining to her, she can’t possibly relate.
> I am a disgusting person.
> And I’ve done terrible things to others.
> Words alone can’t carry the burden we do.
7
> I should know. I spent months in a war ridden Emmeria.
> Watching my home crumble under the weight of a soul-less war machine.
> I have fought in places that have become more known for their battles, kidnappings, and violence then for their historic architecture, culture or people.
> I existed in an atmosphere where I couldn’t walk down the street, go to the grocery store, or eat in a restaurant without seriously considering the security of the myself and the people around me.
> Explosions and gunfire were parts of my daily life.
>I saw the smelly, dirty remains of my people before my eyes.

> All the things everyone here take for granted, like clean water and safety of mind, were unavailable.
> No picnics, no sporting events, no hanging out in the neighborhood bar, No hiking or fishing or bowling.
> Just conflict.
> My fellow countrymen and I sacrificed everything for the cause.
> That’s all we had going for us.
> That, and the unrealistic belief that by being there and doing what I did, I was making some kind of a difference.

> I picked up a few skills during the war.
> And despite being part of the resistance, I considered myself safer than most men and women around me.
> I was backed by the collective strength of my people.
> Day by day we did what little we could.

> We weren’t military.
> No. We were far from it.
> Armed with little more than sticks and stones we faced the goliath.
> This was something most countrymen appreciated, and while there was always the chance that I would be killed or injured while caught in the crossfire, I always strived to help in any way I could.

> Emmerian hospitality is legendary.
> So despite war going on all around, whenever I came face to face with civilians, I was met with coffee and snacks and often a complete lunch.
> More often than not, they didn’t even food for themselves. But they still found a way to give what little they could.
> It was a collective effort.

> When winter came around, the fighting escalated.
> It was like a dark and endless tunnel.
The clouds pulled themselves down around me, reducing the clear skies to just a place above my head.
> I could almost touch those gray clouds that blotted out the sun for weeks  and weeks on end.
> The cold was so intense that many would freeze to death in their sleep, it even transformed the snow.
> There were days when it did not melt, or adhere to anything, but lasted as a fine powder that squeaked underneath my boots.
> The prowling winds skulled throughout the maze of buildings of the city.
> And just like the enemy, it waited behind corners to attack.

> The work was dangerous, but more in the way that walking through a crime ridden city at night is dangerous.
> I might get hurt, but I could also take precautions to keep myself relatively safe.

> Once I was set in the outskirts of Tarvo, watching guard over a munitions depot, when I saw an Emmerian Tank burst into flames on the highway, a deep red fire with black smoke spiraling into the sky.
> More tanks sped past us and people shooting at them.
> An ambulance rushed by, its sirens blaring. I ran towards a nearby building and hugged the wall to avoid the cross fire.
> I narrowly escaped with my life.

> Those kinds of experiences weren’t easy for me.
> While I was still In Emmeria, I cringed at the slightest provocation.
> Sometimes, I’d become a nervous wreck.
> And there wasn’t a day I didn’t consider taking the easy way out.

> But the nights were worse.
> I rarely found time for sleep.
> But it was my escape.
> Just a few blissful hours of rest.
> At first, my dreams were blessed with memories of my life before the war.
> I’d relive the greatest moments in my life.
> I’d be with my family again…

> But that soon faded.
> The tragedies unfolding across the streets of Emmeria began to invade my dreams.

> And by then, there wasn’t a day that goes by that I’m reminded everything I once had was gone.
> Everyone I once knew was dead.
> My life was taken.

> In one recurring nightmare, I’d find myself locked in the middle of a dark room. The room was putrid with a terrible odor. But I was not alone, by my side stood fellow freedom fighters.
> I would hear their cries of pain. Their mummers from insanity.
> Every so often, a gunshot would echo throughout the room.
> In the quick glimpse of light from the muzzle flash, I’d catch the image of the freedom fighter. His was expression full of joy and empathy as he pulled the trigger on himself.
> [spoiler] It was maddening. [/spoiler]
> I’d hear a loud “THUMP” as his body falls to the floor, lifeless.
“I need to get out of here…I need to get out of here…”
> I’d repeat these words to myself unwillingly.
> But it was hopeless.
> Eventually everyone in the room would succumb to the same fate.
> Surrounded by the corpses of my fallen comrades.
> Surrounded by my friends and my family.
> To find an escape to the room was pointless.
> All the exits would be sealed shut.
> I was trapped for what would seem like an eternity.
> I could feel my very sanity slipping away the longer I stayed in the room.
> Finally, I’d succumb to fear and desperation.
> I’d turn my gun on myself and awake.

> I knew the war needed to end soon.
> It just had to.
> Especially after witnessing the aftermath of it first hand for so long.

> Day in and day out, I would pull out the already decomposing corpses of civilians from the rubble before burying them into a makeshift cemetery by the local football field.


> I had left Emmeria and the war.
> But they have not left me.
> I can feel my very sanity being clutched away from my grasp.
> Not a moment goes by where I don’t feel at unease.

> I could not feel anything but sadness and regret dwell into the back of my mind for the first few days since my arrival
> But I’m safe now...
> I’m free.
> I’ve got nothing to hold me back.
> I’ve got a second chance at life!
> It’s all I’ve wanted for months now…
> So why am I so miserable?

> How could I achieve true happiness in this new home when I knew somewhere back in Emmeria, [spoiler] my true home, [/spoiler] people where suffering?
> How could I leave my countrymen behind while I frolic in this verdant paradise?

> Am I a coward? A traitor?
> Am I no better than the Stovies that invaded?
> Why me? Why do I get to live on?
> What of my comrades at the bridge?
> What about them?
> Why here?
> Why Equestria?
…
>Why?

> Questions I ask myself almost constantly.
> Questions I fear I may never find the answer to.


> I’m losing sleep over this.
> I’m losing patience.
> I’m losing my mind.

> I need help.