Hello again stranger, it’s been a while. I’m sorry for leaving this behind for so long, but I doubt it will really matter if you read all these chapters in the same place. That is, if they ever get out there. Come to think of it, I don’t even know if I’ll ever let this out to the public. Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

Whatever happens, I know I want somepony to read this, and I’m going to write it the way I want, and that means you – whoever you are – are going to read it the way it’s written.

Please don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean to sound rude by being so blunt. I just want to speak my mind, by writing, because that’s what I’m good at. If you’re willing to read, then… thank you, I guess.

Now I suppose I’d better make sure everything’s straight-forward.

I'm nineteen years old now. Again I'm sorry, but really mostly not. Life's been uneventful since my last entry, and even though any good author can always tell a good story, I'm not that good.

I graduated on time, but didn't attend the ceremony: I didn't feel like sitting through speeches from ponies I didn't give a damn about, and waiting for hours while everypony in my class of one-hundred-something students slowly walked onto a stage to get a hoof-shake and roll of paper, standing there while every relative there takes twenty pictures. They sent my diploma in the mail, but not the principal's hoof-shake. Oh well, c'est la vie.

I'm sorry if I seem a little pissy, but again; not really. I mean, I warned you right? Maybe not, but I’m writing things as they happen, from now on.

I was told I couldn't move out without a precise plan and enough money. My father fully expected to never have to hear from me about money problems, or legal ones for that matter. I assured him; whatever I needed, I would never ask him. I remember the strange, painful look on his face. He was obviously hurt, but made a good effort to hide it. I love him, and I know he loves me. Why does he have to treat me like this just because of my cutie mark? I've always done everything he asked, exactly how he asked for it to be done. No questions were asked, no arguments made, no battles fought. Fighting a war with him would leave no victor; I'd be out of a father, and him with one less son.

I was enraged, but I didn't fight him. I could never think of anything to say to somepony's face, and I didn't like arguing anyway. Ever. It just, never accomplished what was intended. It never had for my parents, or anypony else I've witnessed argue. Why would I get myself into something so painfully futile?

I surrendered to his terms, figuring I'd play the passive-aggressive war: wait for him to lower his guard by shutting him out. A year later and he's still not letting up. I haven't lowered my guard, but I know something else must be done.

I've been saving bits to prepare to move out. I don't expect any help, but I'm afraid my mother will try to give me a boost. I'm more afraid of how my father will react when she does. He'd never hurt her, but them fighting is more painful to me than anything else I've dealt with. Anything, and I'm not giving an example.

I've accepted odd jobs around town, trying to get hired by any of the local businesses. They've shot me down every time so far. Ponies don't tend to leave Green Stables, so most shops don't need new workers, ever.

I've been keeping in touch with Minty Swirl through the mail, meeting up with her occasionally, but without school we don't meet often. She works at her family's creamery. She makes ice cream. Her relatives are dairy farmers, so most of what she needs is pretty easy for her to get. Her father makes great butter, and her mother knows a great recipe for cake frosting. It's strange that their skills are so closely related, considering they're terrible for each other. They're not married, just together because of Minty. Or, thanks to Minty... ugh. I'm trying to make it not sound sarcastic, but it's almost impossible. Basically, her parents met at her mother's father's creamery. He was hired to make butter, since no-pony in the family really could. One night, she found him at his churn and liked what she saw. He gave her a hooves-on lesson on how to churn, getting rather friendly meanwhile.

In the end, it's probably a good thing Minty's grandfather died soon after their night together. He was definitely against the idea premarital sex. But apparently it was good sex, since they don't hate each other enough to leave. Which is saying something, because they hate each other. So maybe they're not just staying for Minty Swirl. I really shouldn't talk about her family like that, but she definitely benefits from having a relatively straight-forward family.

She knows my family isn't so simple, and that my relationship with my father is on a ledge. It's a big ledge though, and I'm not jumping anytime soon. Still, I'm not saying I envy her situation, but I do wish my life were as simple as ice cream.

Now I must say, I'm glad I got back into writing. Mom said I should pick up a hobby, and... Well obviously. I've written a few neat fiction tales, and re-written them, over and over. They're still no good.

Anyway, I was just looking for more paper when I found those first three chapters. I hadn't forgotten entirely. Pretty much just where I put them. I wanted to keep writing, but I had forgotten where I left off, and I didn't want to repeat anything, and I never went to military school.

So, I hope you're all caught up.

I feel a lot better now, not as pissy, I guess. I sometimes forget how therapeutic writing can be. Especially auto-biography-style. My fiction stories are fun, but I have to be in the right mood to work on them or the story will end up coming out wrong. Sometimes I leave a project in the bottom drawer for weeks to get into the same mood my characters are supposed to be in. The most annoying thing is getting interrupted when you’re already in the mood.

Sometimes, writing is good. Other times it’s just plain stressful.