“Arf-arf-arf, arf-arf-arf, arf-arf-arf.”

I slowly crack my eyes open to glare at my puppy dog novelty alarm clock before slapping it hard on top of the head.

Shut UP, you stupid mutt!

I groan as I roll onto my back while resting my right hand on my forehead. I stare up to the cover above my bed idly.

Damn it! I'm still young. I probably will have many more mornings like this to “look forward to”.

Man! I don't feel like getting up.

Instead, I contemplate the dream, or rather nightmare, that I had last night.

Very rarely do I remember my dreams as clearly as the one last night. That dream is so vivid in detail for me that I feel like I actually lived it.

I know the dream is ridiculous and “dream-like”, but it does reveal a startling revelation for me.

For years I have feared my mother abandoning me, just like my birth parents did. Also, I thought that the sight of my stoned pony self awakened a sense of cleithrophobia in me, and it probably did, but both fears have a common source. Both fears extend from a larger problem.

I genuinely can't stand the thought of being alone!

I did not consciously realize how much that bothers me until last night's dream, but the experience of being the last being alive clearly illustrates something within me. Under those circumstances, I think I'd rather be dead. If things ever got that bad and I lost all hope that it would ever change, I don't think I could live like that. I actually would end my own life.

Strange that this finally occurs to me so shortly after meeting someone else who contemplated ending her life by the knife.

Or maybe . . . it isn't a coincidence?

Another thing that bothers me about the dream is just how thoroughly I was willing to surrender to that dark entity. I truly was willing to commit myself wholly as a slave. The real kicker of it is that a strong part of me understands why. If things really got that bad for me on the earth, then any glimmer of attention I gained, I would desperately cling to. I'd give anything to hold onto that sliver.

Even more disturbing is the lingering feeling of how much I enjoyed that experience. Now that I am awake and have hindsight into this situation, I feel disgusted that the idea still has a powerful allure over me. The idea of surrendering my body and will to another . . . I'm amazed how much the thrill that idea draws in me.

Maybe it is because of the simplicity of it. The idea of giving myself to another all of a sudden makes me wholly innocent. Not of past crimes, but of future crimes. Anything he commands me to do, it would be his fault, not mine. My hands are clean no matter what I'm forced to obey.

Well . . . that may be a surprisingly pleasant fantasy, but therein lies it's inherent problem. It is a fantasy, which means nobody will sweep me off my feet and force me to complete and utter surrender. Instead of that, I'm forced to deal with my own life and all of its all-too-real consequences.

Lately those consequences have been piling up in my heart. No wonder a strong part of me wants to give up and surrender to someone else. I guess I'm getting tired of running my own life. It's just so exhausting and painful lately.

I sigh.

Well . . . there's nothing else for it. Time to get up.

* * *

It's definitely one of “those” mornings.

I honestly forgot that Diamond Tiara is still here. I made my way to the bathroom in order to take a shower while wearing nothing but my panties and a tiny bra. As I pass the living room, I hear her gasp within it. I look at her as she beholds me in such little attire. When I see her in return, it snaps into my head, “Oh yeah! I forgot she's here! Next time I'll wrap myself in a towel.”

The moment I see her, she attempts to regather her composure, although this is also the moment I realize, “Well, I guess it's okay. We're both girls and she sees me undress in the locker room anyway so I guess it's no big deal.”

Still, it's a factor that both of us are unaccustomed to in our personal lives. It's as if she's in my personal space. She's aware of that too, and it does bother her some but she also can't help it.

In an attempt to diffuse the awkward situation a bit, I give her a two-finger salute to non-verbally let her know that I'm not bothered by this encounter. The truth is I am bothered by this a little, but I don't want this situation to continue to remain “weird”.

That seems to help. Diamond calms down a little and gives me a nod of acceptance.

I continue on my way to the bathroom while contemplating these latest developments.

I realize that this newest situation I find myself in with Diamond is a great opportunity. I am in a massively advantageous tactical position to learn more about her mindset.

But the main problem with this is the fact I did not plan on it. I succeeded in my goal to get close to her a little too well. This feels like too much, too fast. That bothers me because it makes me realize that I lost control of the situation. The end results may be in my favor for the moment, but I am still bothered by how easily that might not have happened. When I lose control of a situation, potentially anything can happen, and I frickin’ hate surprises! I despise gambling on the chance that all my plans may go awry.

Regardless, this is my reality right now, and I don't have a plan for it. Visiting Diamond's house is one thing, but her ending up living with me afterwards goes far beyond my original plans. At this rate, she may end up learning too much about me as well.

Worse . . . what if I grow to like her by virtue of more consistent exposure? I already despise her guts so a change with my living status isn't likely to worsen that. Instead, it can only improve. If it does, that would put a severe damper on my revenge scheme. If that falls through, then I framed Sunset Shimmer for no other reason other than to protect my relationship with my mother.

While I take a shower, I gather more evidence of how I'm fundamentally a different person today. Normally I really enjoy taking a shower. Normally I love the feeling of warm water dripping down my silky smooth skin . . . but, today, my heart just isn't in it for some reason.

Instead, I move more mechanically. This feels more like a chore. Something to “get over with” so I can move on with my life.

Then, back in my bedroom, I have a lot of trouble getting my clothes on right. I miss a few buttons on my white blouse. When I notice this, I have to undo some of my progress and start over again.

After that, while I try to tie my teal tie on my neck, I get it wrong over and over again. One side or another keeps ending up longer. I try to adjust it but it keeps on happening. Eventually I growl at it in frustration then rip it off.

FINE! Whatever! I guess I don't need everything to be perfect all the time.

I regard my hair in the reflection, then groan again. It, too, is a mess.

It feels like my whole goddamn life is a mess, and I am so sick and tired of the struggle to fix things all the time!

I wish that dark entity would sweep me up and claim my life. That way I don't have to worry or struggle about my plans anymore. Instead, I can just focus on one man . . . or being . . . or whatever the heck he is.

Dang it, get it together Cozy! He doesn't even exist! He's a figment of your imagination at most. A hallucination that is a sure sign of your deteriorating mental state.

Although, I have to realize, if my mind is deteriorating, then there is a reason for it. I have a pretty good idea what that reason is, too, but I feel like I can't really change it at this point. I feel like a train that is stuck on a single track. There is nowhere to go but to move forward. If there is hardship along the way, I'll just have to do my best to endure it.

“Cozy?” my mother checks on me as she opens my door while knocking on it lightly. When she sees me, she recoils a bit. “Oh! Sorry! I guess you're not finished dressing yet.”

“What do you mean?” I question her.

“Well, you . . . For one thing, you still don't have a skirt on,” my mother points out.

I don't?

I look down to check myself. I feel startled and embarrassed to notice that she's right!

Dang it! What would have happened to me if she didn't stumble her way into my room and point that out? Am I so out of it today that I would have gone all the way to school with no bottom on other than just my underwear?

Huh. I wish I could just blame this on some lewd entity that possessed me and wishes to embarrass me for some reason, but I have to face the facts. This is my fault, and I have to pull myself together.

Anyway, this is simple enough to fix. I reach over to one of my drawers, pull it open, then select a skirt that seems to compliment my white blouse.

“What is it, mother?” I ask her as I pull out my skirt from the drawer. “Why have you come to me?”

“Huh?” My mother blinks in confusion, then blinks again when she recalls why she came. “Oh! Um, I wanted to tell you that breakfast is ready and you are running a little behind schedule.”

“Yeah. I figured that,” I groan in agreement as I glance irritably at the clock.

Damn! I'm over seven minutes late! I am really losing it right now.

“Also . . . I wanted to tell you that I've excused Diamond Tiara from school right now. She'll be house-sitting while we're gone and looking after K-9 . . . and vice versa.”

“Really?” I ask my mother in surprise as I pull up my skirt. “You already trust her to be alone in our house that much?”

My mother looks sad as she responds, “Well I don't think she's a thief! Even if she is, that's not really my priority right now. I think the poor dear has been through enough already.”

“You took a look at her ear, right?” I check as I adjust my skirt a bit.

My mother nods. “I did last night since she insisted not to go to the hospital. I'm not a licensed physician but I do know my stuff.”

“And?” I ask her with lingering concern.

“The ear canal is swollen from what I can tell, but it does not appear she'll have any permanent damage. I gave her some antibiotics just in case her ear starts to grow an infection. I'll need to keep an eye on that for the next few days.”

A moment of silence passes between us, broken first by my mother.

“Spoiled Rich should be in jail for what she did to her!” my mother spouts in sudden anger, then softens with her next sentence, “but I can somewhat understand why Diamond doesn't want to press charges or make a big deal of this. Despite all those years of abuse, she is her mother, and she's trying to protect her.”

My mother bangs her forehead on my door twice in frustration.

“I just wish it was a two-way street!” my mother proclaims with irritation in her voice. “That is what a mother is supposed to do! She's supposed to protect her child, not abuse her! This just makes me so angry that I want to SCREAM!”

“I don't think anyone in this house would begrudge you that,” I tell my mother sympathetically. “You always did have an enormous heart. While that does make you a very sweet person, it also means you are highly emotional. That makes you quite vulnerable to the many flaws of the world.”

I see tears in my mother's eyes as she turns to look at me.

“I told Diamond that she does not have to press charges if she doesn't want to,” my mother informs me, “and I can understand why she would want to sweep this whole issue under the rug, but last night I once grabbed her and shook her by the shoulders for a brief moment because I lost my temper with her. I told her, 'You don't have to make a move against her if you don't want to, but I need you to understand something. This,' I grabbed her ear for emphasis, then went on to say, 'is not okay! This is not okay! It never should be okay. This is not what mothers are supposed to do to their precious children!'”

“How did she respond?” I ask, feeling very invested.

My mother sighs as she looks down, shrugs, then says, “Nothing. She just looked so empty, lost, hurt, and confused. I really can't blame her.”

My mother looks back at me with a discerning look. She sweeps a gaze from head to toe, to head again, then declares, “Actually, you don't seem that fine yourself. You also have that same empty look that I saw in Diamond last night.”

My mother raises her hands to her hips. When I see that, I immediately realize she made a decision as a parent. One she plans to be firm with.

“You know what, Honey, I want you to take the day off from school as well,” my mother orders me. “You don't look so good yourself. Also, considering your recent breakdown last night as well as your seizure, I don't want to run the risk of you developing other health problems today. Keep your watch on at all times, too. I want to be notified if there are any further health problems.”

“Yes, Mother,” I reply obediently in an empty tone.

My mother narrows her eyes slightly at me, most likely because she expected more resistance to her command. This just gave her more evidence that something is wrong with me today.

I can't deny it. She's right.

“I think I'll take you both to the doctors after school,” Mother decides. “Diamond might gripe and moan about it, but perhaps she won't feel as bad if another of her peers is doing the same thing. That will make her feel less singled out. Plus, you both really need it.”

“As you wish, Mother,” I reply again in an empty and listless tone.

“Besides,” my mother shrugs, “you can keep an eye on her while I'm gone,” mother says a little more brightly. “I get the feeling you can both use each other's company.”

Oh, the irony of that statement! I struggle not to roll my eyes at it.

My mother smiles brightly at me as she says, “I'm so glad you're making new friends! That's very important, you know! Friendship is magic, after all!”

I sigh as I give her a droll expression while I say, “I know, Mother. You tell me over and over again.”

“Because it's true!” Mother proclaims. “You'll see now that you are experiencing it. I've been worried about your social life for so many years. It's nice to have acquaintances too that you work with, but you really need more than just that, Honey.”

“Can we change the subject please?” I beg her in exhausted irritation. “Anyway, I'll do it if it will make you happy. I'll keep an eye on Diamond.”

“Please do more than just that,” my mother kindly requests. “Keep her company. There is a difference.

“You know, you weren't much different from her not too long ago.”

I suddenly gave her a sharp look because that comment reminds me of something.

“Mother . . . come inside and shut my door,” I request.

Caught off guard by my sudden shift in attitude, Mother nevertheless cooperates.

“I know this might seem a bit sudden, but I have to know,” I look squarely in my mother's eyes, “were my former parents abusive to me?”

Mother looks really taken aback by my question. After that, she looks remorseful. She cannot meet my eyes any longer.

“I’d, ah . . . rather discuss this later,” my mother expresses in intense discomfort.

I speak Twilightese enough to know what she really means by that statement. Whenever my mother says, “I want to discuss it later,” what she is actually saying is, “I want to discuss this never. I'm not comfortable with this subject.”

Normally I would comply, but this issue is so personal and important to me, so I decide to press her a little harder.

“Mother . . . that wasn't just a seizure I suffered last night, that was a stroke!” I tell her grimly. “I blacked out completely other than some disturbing hallucinations. Before that, I remember I panicked for some reason. Watching Diamond's mother slap her hard is what triggered it in me.”

I see my mother wince painfully. The mere mention of Spoiled slapping her daughter hard seems to injure my mother inwardly.

I press on.

“I don't know much about my parents, to be quite honest with you,” I tell her as I look down. “What little I do remember about them is squeaky clean.

“For instance, I remember this one time . . . I think I was five years old at the time . . . old enough to recognize the fact that I'm not like other kids my age. There is something different about me. Something that sets me apart.

“One day my parents took me on a picnic trip. I remember we sat on a family quilt out on the grass on a hill. There was a tree nearby that offered us shade. I remember how it gave a sizzling sound as the tree leaves blew in the wind.

“My father . . . he was laughing merrily. I remember how his hair and the edges of his skin glowed as it was backlit by the radiance of the sun.

“My mother was wearing a beautiful white Sunday dress. I remember how she picked up a dandelion stem. Both my mother and I were laying back on the blanket. She lifted and twisted the dandelion above us as she sang me, 'Twinkle-twinkle little star'.

“After she finished the song, she'd let me sit up and blow on the dandelion. I felt so happy and innocent as I watched the tiny things blow across the field. It felt like I was making a wish, except all I wished for was for that moment to continue forever.

“I got the exact opposite of my wish!”

My mother winces in pain again.

“Mother . . . I haven't felt that innocent in so long. Something dark and twisted grew inside me ever since that day, but I don't know why. At least, not consciously. I can't ignore the clues, though. Something about Diamond's treatment felt all too familiar. Why is that? Am I suppressing my memories of my early childhood? Is that why my birth parents seem too perfect?

“Come to think of it, is that also why I sometimes speak all cutesy-wootsy as well as collect dolls and other childish things late into my teenage years? Am I desperately trying to defend something that feels threatened? Am I trying to reclaim a childhood that was stolen from me?”

“I . . .” my mother began but trailed off. She looks at me for just a second but does not have the courage to maintain eye contact. Very quickly she shifts her look away.

Her look is all the confirmation I need. She knows something that she does not want to tell me because she knows the news will hurt me. She has held onto this secret for years. She never corrected me because she knew I was desperately trying to cling onto some shattered fragment of my lost innocence.

“I . . .” my mother attempts again, then shook her head, having fully lost her courage. “I don't want to discuss this right now. Let's save this discussion for another time.”

Light dims in my eyes as I slowly look down. Once again I tell her in an empty and listless way, “Sure. We'll discuss this again when you feel you are ready.”

Meaning never, but I can read between the lines. I know what she would have said if she was more courageous with me.

Without warning, my mother rushes forward to embrace me in a hug.

“No matter what you have gone through, what you have done, what you will do or go through, know that I will always be your mother . . . and that I will always love you!” my mother expresses to me with tender warmth as she continues to hug me.

I embrace her back.

Part of me wants to cry right now, but I can't. I feel too empty inside. I have neither joy nor sorrow within me.

I am hollow.

Back on 4/17/2020, I finished this story offline. That took me a total of 71 days. That's not the fastest pace I ever finished a story, but it's close. I'm sure it can use some editing improvements. If any of you are interested to help me with that, send me a PM message with any e-mail address you prefer. In return, I'll give you editing permission on the google document as well as the link to it (actually, there is currently 2 documents on this story).

This news also means I can accelerate the pace of the chapter posts. Question is, do any of you want me to? If you have an opinion on the matter, let me know in the comments what you think. If enough of you approve, I was thinking of doubling the rate for the chapters posts from Sunday through Wednesday. If none of you say anything, then I can assume it's a consensus to keep things going at our current rate.

In any case, I'd still like to know what you all think of the story. Good, bad, what could use improvements, what I did right, what you liked. Lay it on me.

As for this chapters deviant art post of human Cozy that I found: