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>"I love you guys."
>I wake myself up repeating that phrase.
>I look around my 'room': a laundry room that connects to the kitchen and the garage. My bed is a small collection of towels that haven't been washed since January.
>Every time I go to sleep, I always dream. I dream of having friends. Of living a life that's so simplistic yet beautiful. And I always dream of him.
>I sit in the laundry room, waiting for everyone to wake up. I used to try to get out to greet and wake up everyone.
>That wasn't met positively. Not at all.
>I remember when I was first brought home. I was a gift for a couple's daughter. She wanted a pony and was incredibly into a cartoon I was based off of.
>After a year she completely moved onto the next big, popular thing. And I was treated less and less like a friend. And more and more like a burden, or an animal.
>Which I guess I am. Animals can't have jobs or go to school. Animals don't have rooms to themselves or real beds. Or clothing. Or hats.
>I used to have a hat. But someone lost it and I just never got another one.
>"I'm Jacky, lassie!"
>I remember saying that, in my accent, and seeing her face
>It was so painful to see her look at her parents as if I weren't even speaking English.
>I've done my best to change how I speak but I can't because it ends up feeling so stressful and every time it slips back, that dirty look comes back.
>I stare blankly at the wall.
>For the most part, I spend a lot of time thinking. And I spend a lot of time dreaming.
>I think I've spent so much time sleeping, and dreaming, that I'm starting to lose my sense of time.
>I'm let out a few times a day, of course. Usually to graze and go to the bathroom.
>I hate the taste of grass but it counts as a chore and I'm usually given a treat if I keep the back yard in order. Usually.
>Her dad is nice to me, but he makes it clear that he's been looking for a "better place" for me to live. I think he feels sorry for me. Or that he regrets getting me but tries to play it off like he's just busy.
>Her mom doesn't like me. I don't think she knew that I was... able to talk. I got in trouble at least once before by repeating things that she said when only I was present. I think that's why I spend so much of my time in the laundry room.
>Morning eventually comes because I can hear everyone talking and eating. They sound so happy. The food smells good too.
>Evidently it's a cheaper option to give me hay and dry dog food so I eat that, along with the grass. I was at least given an apple once. I'm supposed to like them but I ended up getting really sad when I ate it.
>It reminded me of 'home'. Of a real home, not where I am now. The home I dream of, where I have friends and freedom and I'm allowed to do all sorts of things. I can even take showers and use the toilet.
>I met others like me, who were all silly and goofy in their own ways. But they were all really friendly to me.
>Especially who I was living with. I really liked him. I always dream of him, but I don't know what his name is. I focus so hard on the details to the point that I feel like I'm living a second life. But his name always escapes me.
>And his face. I don't remember his face. It's all blurred and murky, like trying to read a newspaper after it's been out in the rain for too long.
>I hear myself whimper, thinking of him.
"Oh God... she wants out again. Honey, let her go out again."
"Do I have to?"
"Don't argue with your mother, you wanted your pony friend, you should be more responsible."
"Fiiiiiiiiiiii-naaa..."
>I flinch at the sounds of the family talking. They're supposed to be my family but they feel like strangers."
>The kitchen door opens and a somewhat disappointed teenaged girl is in the doorway
"Alright Jenny, let's go outside. You gotta, like, go... right?"
>I try my best to smile despite the sting of being called something other than my name. She always does that now, and every time she has a new excuse.
>"O-of course! Gonna run a few laps to pump up energy for the day?"
>I try to stand up and flex but I can't really strain myself that much anymore
>I give an awkward laugh and sputter out an excuse.
>"I-I guess I'm still a little sleepy. Maybe I'm the one who needs to trot around, right?"
>She doesn't budge at all. She doesn't even really react.
"Come on."
>That annoyed tinge in her voice is pain incarnate.
>I slowly walk out from the laundry room, doing my best to avoid eye contact with her parents. I never get genuinely happy looks.
>The daughter slides open the back door and stands there, waiting for me to walk there. I don't get a ton of chances to walk so I guess my body adapted.
>I end up outside, able to taste fresh, cold air. Almost immediately, the glass screen door slides shut hard behind me.
>Most of the snow has melted now but the ground is still cold. At least there isn't a ton of grass to graze on.
>I walk around the perimeter of the yard, sticking close to the wooden fence. Everything is the same size but every time I take the walk, it feels like it takes longer and longer.
>By the time I make it back to the screen door, I peek inside. Everyone's already gone and the dishes are already up and drying. I kinda wish they would set a plate for me too.
>I take another walk around the perimeter of the back yard
>And another
>And another
>And another
>And another
>And another
>I think to myself that I'm taking a big, long journey. I think that I'm on a wild prairie, a stranger with no name looking for a home. With a well-kept mane, a strong body, and friends at my side. Sometimes we don't all get along perfectly but that's ok because at the end of the day we're all still friends.
>I sit down, finally, my energy spent. Something tells me that I wasn't supposed to live this way. Something deep inside of me tells me that I was meant for something so much greater. That I wasn't supposed to be here.
>I find myself laying down, a hoof slipping on a patch of icy grass. What is funny is that it doesn't hurt. I don't even feel like I'm really here.
>That must be it. I'm not really here. I'm not supposed to be. Where I'm really at is that really warm home, with my friends. Laughing, being silly, watching movies and driving in cars and seeing other people and doing so many other fun things.
>I close my eyes.
>I know I'm not really here.
>I know that I am just sleeping.
>I know that I am going to be ok.
>I know that he is waiting for me.
>"I love..."