Bolden showed up minutes before my family, with a teddy bear. Imagine that; he already knows I don't like flowers. Maybe he just got lucky.

He sat beside my bed, tired love oozing from his eyes. He was telling me about how he's been organizing his things; mostly in piles the empty corner on the other side of my desk. He didn't want to take any space from me or move anything of mine.

My mother walked in with a small bouquet of lilacs and a get-well card. I sigh and smile. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

I take a short moment to respond, thinking about how to do so. I could tell her the truth, risk devastating her with the weight of my issues. Or, I could lie to her and risk having her not believe me. I just shrugged, implying that it isn't clear whether or not I am well. "Where are Picker and Dale?"

She came closer, placing the flowers in a vase in the window sill. "I sent them to the cafeteria. I was hoping to get some time alone with you." She gave Bolden an awkward glance. When he looked at me, concerned, I just smiled and nodded. I couldn't guess what she wanted to talk about, but I'd be fine for a few minutes. He left promptly, and my mother took his place by my side. "You have... very nice friends."

I know she forced the compliment. She doesn't know them at all. "You blame them, don't you?"

She wouldn't look at me, tell-tale that I was right.

Y'know, I'm trying really hard to keep using past tense conjugations but it just doesn't feel right. I know I've been pretty inconsistent in a lot of my previous chapters, and I can't decide how it's supposed to be, but writing about myself I feel should be in mostly present tense.

I take a deep breath through my mouth; my body telling me I'm beginning to panic. I let it out slowly, then take another through my nose to try to calm down. I don't know what to say, but there's no way she's going to say anything.

She proves me wrong, "All I know is that you've never done anything like this back at home."

I bite my tongue; my body telling me I want to yell at her, even though I have no idea what I'd yell. Another deep breath. "Just because I never acted on them doesn't mean I never had thoughts." I sense her stare at me, at the back of my head. "Living in the city..." What am I trying to say? "It's so different. But has the same effect as living back at home. I'm still closed-minded, afraid to be myself most of the time." I turn my head slowly, look her in the eye. "The difference with living here is that instead of being afraid of my family judging me, it's being afraid of strangers, and it's not nearly as bad because I have friends here that can help..." I hesitate, but I know the next part has to be said, "more than family can."

She swallows, but still squeaks on her first word, "A-are you saying, you don't trust us?" I lay my head back down, turning to look out the window. "Do you blame us?" My eyes are stinging, and my head is throbbing. "Timber, we could have helped! We love you just as much as anypony could. You could have just told us—"

"Told you what?" I interrupt, turning back to her. Black spots fill my vision. "I get that I kept things from you, and from dad, but you know how well things turned out when he found out."

"Because he found out! You didn't tell him."

"And how different would it have been if I had told him? The second time he was an imposter, you know that so don't you dare use that. He was a stranger to me, and me to him. All he knew at that point was that I was his son, and he was supposed to love me." I lay my head back down, blink away tears. "Who knows what I would have done in the woods if I hadn't fallen..."

She gasps. Silently, but I still notice. Yeah, maybe I would have tried to hurt myself on purpose, maybe even kill myself. There was a lot going through my mind.

"I—" mom stutters. "I don't... believe—"

"Don't believe what, mom?" I insist. "That I'm suicidal? That I have a serious problem and being away from home is the best solution I can come up with?" Why am I talking like this? I've never spoken to my mother this way. Either of my parents or anyone at home... Has living in the city changed me? Or, was it just that nearly dying opened some windows? I had to keep telling myself not to yell, keep biting my tongue and try not to say anything else...

"I don't believe, that being away is better for you." Don't yell, don't yell. "I think you left, confused and scared." Don't yell. "I think it might do you some good to come home." Please don't yell. "Spend some time away from these ponies."

"These ponies are the only good!" I yelled, damn. I turned my head too fast, yelled too loud, my vision is incredibly dark, but I surprisingly don't feel any pain. The darkness reminds me, almost too much, of when I split my head open so long ago. It's exactly the same, right down to the lack of glasses. "I left because you're all poisonous!" I foolishly try to sit up, sending pain down my left side and my head. "None of you had what I needed, and I couldn't get what I needed in those Celestia-forsaken boondocks! I came to the city to live my dream, but I found a kind of love that you ponies couldn't give me!" I'm breathing so heavily. I think something's bleeding.

She's stunned, speechless. I'm speechless, too. I can't remember the last time I'd risen my voice. Given the circumstances, I regret doing so now. I see red in my eyes, past the dark spots, and I can't decipher whether it's blood or outraged tears. I fall back onto my pillows, a little too hard but nothing can hurt anymore: I had just yelled at my own mother.

"I don't care what you think. Maybe it was your fault I jumped, I don't know." What am I saying? "I'm sorry you had to see me this way." I need to breathe a little. There's too much I have to deal with, and my family doesn't need to be here to make it worse. "You need to go. I'm sorry... I just, think it'll be better..."

She sniffs, "Ok." My eyes are shut tight, fighting through the pain. I hear her leave.

I know somepony else is in the room, and open one eye to see. Multiple figures appear, and I put together that it's Bolden and my brothers. They came in when I started yelling, likely worried something was wrong. "She's probably going to cry for a while," I tell my brothers. "Hopefully you'll all forgive me."

They're both silent for a few seconds. Then Dale speaks up, "You know we will. And, even if you don't want to... just know that, we'll always let you come home."

Picker didn't say anything, but he might've started crying. They followed mom at a quick trot. I'm not sure what they'll do next, how soon they'll go home or when I'll see them again. I just want my stupid body to heal so I can climb into bed with somepony.

But who the hell is that even going to be?

I sob out loud, and Bolden steps closer to pet me. He leans his head onto the mattress and lets me rest mine there. This is the first I've really cried since I woke up. I love having Bolden right there to hold me, however uncomfortable I am right now. He's half on the bed, just letting me lean against his body and weep. I slowly ease out of it, take deep breaths so I can really appreciate his presence. It's hard though.

He's stroking my head, shushing me, telling me it'll be all right. I don't believe him. "I c-can't stop," I sob. "I don't kn-know, who..."

"Shh," he whispers. "I know, it's a hard choice." He strokes my mane gently, leaving me wondering. Then he answers, "Stitches told me. He's worried about you."

I take a shaky breath. "Worried... I'll make the wrong choice." I guess.

"No," he insists. "There is no wrong choice. He's worried about you worrying too much. We all are."

I'm still shaking uncontrollably, trying to manage my breathing with crying. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know if I'll be able to stop worrying, even after making the choice. There's too much going on, in my life and in my head. I think I'd rather just go to sleep, but that won't solve anything.