"Miss Eri Business Part 1 (WIP)"
By smeg (https://pastebin.com/u/smeg)

URL: https://pastebin.com/BYFe5KXy
Created on: Sunday 22nd of March 2015 10:32:17 AM CDT
Retrieved on: Sunday 25 of October 2020 08:05:29 AM UTC


http://www.rainymood.com/
[SoundCloud] (???,) ALL ALONE ?? by OLFVN ??????? (embed)

>It's three AM, and you're laying wide awake
>Outside your window, freezing autumn rain mercilessly whips the pavement, the gale howling it's lonely song
>You toss and turn in your bed, sweating in the stuffy air of your bedroom
>The yellow haloes cast by the street lamps filters through your window, piercing through your eyelids
>It was always like this
>As always, you'd laid in your bed for what felt like an eternity, tossing, turning, sweating the night away
>And yet, sleep evaded you
>You sigh and turn to your bedside lamp, the bulb sputtering to life as your hoof touches the switch
>The light burns your eyes for a moment, your vision going white
>Huffing and kicking off your sheets, you step out of the bed and walk to your window, the afterimage of the light bulb dancing in your eyes
>Taking your cigarettes and a lighter from your cluttered desk, you open the window with a free hoof
>Just like that, the distant howl of the wind becomes a wild, raging roar
>The Pegasi had really worked hard for this
>With good reason, of course
>The first autumn storm was, and had always been a real show
>Officially marking the transition from summer to autumn, from warm to cold, from light to dark, it was a monumental occasion, in it's own way
>Lighting your cigarette, you lean out of the window, the blue cloud of smoke dissipating instantly as it exits your mouth, mercilessly torn to shreds by the storm
>You take a deep drag, the smoke stinging your lungs as your mind wanders off
>Exhaling with a sigh, you flick the ashes out of the window, your mane already wet from the rain
''I don't want to go.''
>A couple months ago, your tone may have been pleading, sad, even angry
>Now, your voice is completely devoid of emotion
>It was a statement, painfully true in it's simplicity
>You don't want to go
>But you have no idea what you really want
>Do you really want to just stay at home, wasting time as days pass by, grey and dull?
>Lying alone in your bed, suffocating under a blanket of ennui and boredom?
>Waiting for something, anything to change, to be different?
>Feeling empty, sick and worthless, too lazy to even do anything about your life?
>Stuck with the feeling that this is not what you are, that you were supposed to be so much more?
>Or do you want to go to school, surrounded not only by the taunts and jeers of classmates, but by painful reminders of the life you do not, and will never have?
>It's kind of funny, really
>In a sick, twisted way, but funny nonetheless
>Moving from Canterlot with your mother and father, you were bright-eyed, almost naive, ready to take on anything the world had to throw at you
>The reality of high school hit you like a freight train
>There you were, shy, slightly nervous, but still hopeful
>Stuck in a new place, no friends by your side, but open and eager to meet new ponies
>And you just had to wear that sweater on your first day of school
>You just had to mess everything up
>It was your grandma's old sweater, the one thing she left you before she passed
>It was warm, soft, filled with the marks of a hard living that only a life of being an airship technician could produce
>And, by Celestia, was it ever ugly
>Gray and faded, filled with holes, slightly baggy, and incredibly worn
>You still remember the first day in front of your new class, nervously shifting as the teacher introduced you
>You still remember the cold, panicked feeling that enveloped you when Diamond Tiara laughed at you
>The first insult she threw at you, her friends' mocking laughter echoing in the classroom
>After that first impression, nopony wanted to be friends with you
>Having to sit with Diamond Tiara in all your classes only made it worse
>The veiled insults, the sardonic smirks, the offhand comments bringing you to tears
>You ran home as fast as your legs could carry you
>Tears in your eyes, you cried and bawled in your room for what felt like hours, questions and regrets swimming in a sea of sadness inside your head
>How could anypony be so mean?
>Why would anypony say those things?
>Still crying, you burned the ugly sweater in the back yard
>When your mother asked you about it, you told her you'd lost it in school
>She was livid, to say the least
>You don't remember exactly what she yelled at you
>You only remember the burning feeling of sadness, shame and disappointment mixing together, sorrow welling out from your eyes
>She was your mother
>She was supposed to comfort you, to tell you everything is okay
>Instead, she berated and scolded you for what seemed like hours on end
>You still remember the expression on your father's face when your mother told him about what you'd done
>And, most of all, you remember the burning pain on your flank from where he whipped you
>You remember limping up to your room with tears in your eyes, feeling hungry, sad, and most of all, alone
>You cried yourself to sleep that night
>And the night after
>You thought burning the sweater would make things better, that it would show everypony that you weren't that weird after all
>Looking back, it only showed everypony that you were a pushover, a bucking bag, always there to be used and abused whenever anypony felt like it
>And here you are, two years later
>Still the same worthless, lonely piece of shit you always were
>Still as useless as ever
>And, despite your sadness, despite your anger, still completely incapable of standing up for yourself
>You sigh and throw away the butt of your cigarette, the glow fizzling out as it hits the rain-soaked pavement below
>Closing the window, you climb back into your bed and turn off the light, staring at the ceiling as the wind sings it's lonely song
>You close your tired eyes, lulling yourself to sleep with the mantra that's stayed with you for two years of hell
''Maybe it'll get better tomorrow…''

Part 2: Rude Awakening

>''ERI! GET UP! IT'S TIME TO GO TO SCHOOL!''
>You jolt awake, your eyes heavy and your coat damp
>The cold autumn light streaming through the window stings your eyes, and you squeeze them shut, desperately wishing for five more minutes of sleep
>You lie still, your head tucked under your blanket, trying your best to hide from the world
>The sound of hooves pounding on your door takes away what little comfort you'd managet to find
>''Eri, get up now! You're going to be late!''
>You sigh and kick off your blanket, the cold air assailing you making you shiver
>Shaking your head to reorganize your thoughts, you slowly make your way off your bed and grab your saddlebags, your headphones and your scarf
>You wrap the black scarf around your neck together with your headphones and rub your eyes with a quiet yawn
>You really don't want to go
>The problem is, you have to
>You've been faking colds and the like way too much during the previous month
>As a result, your grades are headed towards rock bottom at a breakneck pace
>Staying another year in that hellhole of a high school is the last thing you want
>Sighing quietly, you open the bedroom door and plod towards the bathroom
>Your mother's hard green eyes greet you like so many times before, a seemingly permanent expression of disapproval etched into the emerald orbs
>''Tsk, tsk. You really should get up earlier, Eri. You can't be late all the time, you know.''
>Your mother shakes her head with a disappointed look on her face
>Your gaze finds it's way to the floor and you yawn, too tired to feel shame at being scolded again
''I know, mom. I'm just really tired right now.''
>''Well, in that case, you should go to bed earlier, not just sit up all night smoking your cigarettes and whatnot.''
''Yeah, yeah.''
>You mumble a half-hearted reply and walk into the small bathroom, locking the door behind you
>Grabbing the toothbrush, you deliberately avoid looking into the mirror
>You already know what you'll find
>Same old tired face, baggy eyes hidden behind pink-and-black bangs and what little make-up you had time to put on
>Same old ugly snout, same old watery eyes, same old everything
>You sigh quietly, your business done, and place the toothbrush back into it's cup
>Slowly walking out of the bathroom, you find yourself wondering why you even bother brushing your teeth, putting on make-up or even showering
>You'll just get made fun of anyway
>And, despite the tired, hollow mantra you've whispered yourself to sleep with, you know nothing is going to change
>The only thing you can hope for is that nopony's had a bad day

>The cold autumn air bites your muzzle as you tread onward, the smoke from your cigarette wafting through the wind
>As usual, the streets are packed with ponies going about their day-to-day business
>Some of the traders are already setting up their stalls, small lines already forming at the multitudes of stalls cluttering the pavement
>The air is filled with dozens of chattering voices, some laughing, some arguing, some just chatting
>This was one of the reasons you didn't want to go to school
>Seeing all these ponies laughing, playing, or even just walking about with smiles on their faces tied your stomach into a cold knot
>They had friends, careers, a purpose in life
>And while they went about their lives grinning and laughing, happy despite their trials, you slunk by unnoticed and alone
>No friends, nopony to love, without even so much as a goal to strive for or to even live for
>The only thing you do is waste what little time you have, waiting, hoping, pleading for things to get better
>Thinking up juvenile revenge fantasies you wish you could live out, but know you can't
>You sigh, shaking yourself from your thoughts
>No point in thinking about what could be, right?
>All you'll get for your trouble is a slap in the face and a hoofful of disappointment