/emo/ Unstable Symphony, chp 6

>You overslept, you never oversleep.
>However, you don’t feel any fear.
>You feel empty and sad instead.
>How are you even worse than yesterday?
“This has never happened before, I must be sick.”
>Though you check your temperature, it still says normal like yesterday.
“I don’t understand.”
>As you hold the thermometer, you feel yourself start to tear up.
“Why? I’m not sick, but I feel awful.”
>You barely hold back the tears.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay Connie.”
>Slowly, you breath in and out in to reel yourself in.
“I’ll visit the doctor, they will give me something to fix this. I just have to make it through today.”
>Though you’ve managed to push back, the weight is still within you.
>You go grab the mail and hopefully try to distract yourself.
“Bills, more letters from friends, none from Eri still.”
>As you head back to your apartment, you feel worse.
>’She probably hates you.’
“Why? I’ve been a good friend to her. I visit when I can.”
>’But are you there when she needs you like a good friend does?’
“I reach out to her when ever I can. I can’t be there all the time.”
>’Then you’re not her real friend.’
“That’s not true, I am her best friend!”
>As you breath heavier, you look around and see a few of your neighbors staring.
“Uh, sorry. Everything is fine, nothing to see here.”
>Flushed with embarrassment, you enter your apartment and go through the letters.
>All have wished you success with your new position, and mention their own events.
“At least they are doing well.”
>You try to write them back, but lack the will.
>So you go grab some pills and take them with tea.
“I shouldn’t be taking these so much, but I have to focus today.”
>Hopefully this will give you what you need to get through.
>Slowly, you feel the effects kick in.

>While it does give you energy, you don’t feel happier.
>You write a few letters before losing more motivation.
“Doesn’t matter, I’ll practice and get things done.”
>Sitting down on the couch, you start to play.
>Even with the pills, your music suffers.
>You can barely manage to play now.
>It’s definitely worse than last nights playing.
>’You’re going to screw up the concert tonight.’
>The thought causes you skip a note and you feel frustrated.
“Why do I keep thinking like this? Where do these damn thoughts keep coming from?”
>You don’t usually allow yourself to use crass language, but you’ve just about had enough.
“Breath Connie, let’s try again.”
>Readjusting, you play once more.
>The notes flow freely again, though they lack emotion.
>They feel hollow, like you.
>You struggle against this tide of negativity, and can barely play.
>This isn’t going to cut it.
>If you try to play tonight, you’re liable to disrupt the symphony.
>You set down your violin and try to figure out what to do.
“I can’t just call it quits yet. I can do this, just need to focus and give it my all.”
>With that, you push yourself.
>You won’t give up, so you play again.
>This time, it’s more passable.
>Though you’re certain you can push yourself enough to make it better.
>As the time grows closer, you gather your things and head out.
>You get a taxi and think along the way.
>I can do this, I can play this concert.
>’You’re going to screw it up.’
>No I won’t, I’ve worked too hard for this.
>’That’s why you’re going to fail. You’ve gone too far with all this.’
>I may have pushed myself recently, but I can do this, I’ve done it before.
>’When’s the last time you got three hours of sleep a night for weeks straight?’
>I...It was a fluke, there is nothing wrong.
>”Here we are ma’am.”
>You shake your head, pay your fair, and head inside.

>Can’t keep doing this, just take another pill, that will help.
>Ignoring the various ponies you pass by, you reach the restroom and take some pills with water.
>’Not a very bright idea Connie.’
>I need this, I can’t screw this up.
>You close your eyes and take a breath, then release it slowly.
>Tonight will go as planned.
>leaving the restroom, you head back to the dressing room to finish getting ready.
>As you finish you find your heart is starting to race.
>Closing your eyes, you try to focus on slowing it.
>”Connie?”
>Opening them back up, you see Feather looking at you with concern.
“Hey there Feather, tonight’s the final night.”
>”Are you okay, because you’re breathing pretty heavy.”
>Damn it, you didn’t realize you were so loud.
“Yeah! Just bringing myself into focus like I always do.
>’Liar.’
>You force a smile to hopefully persuade her.
>”Okay, didn’t know you did that, but that explains why you come out after we do.”
>Thank Celestia she bought it.
“Yeah, it’s just another way to give me a boost.”
>”Maybe I should try that.”
>’Maybe you should stop lying Connie.’
“It might work for you, who knows?”
>You see other members heading out and you must prepare as well.
“Well, shall we?”
>Feather raises an eyebrow before realizing what you mean.
>”Mhm, see you out there.”
>As she leaves, your heart is still racing.
>’This isn’t going to help you.’
>I just need to focus like I did earlier, it has to be passable.
>’No longer settling for perfect? How pathetic.’
>Anger starts to swell within you.
>’You know you’re going to mess this all up. Your first ruined concert.’
>No I won’t.
>’Just wait and see Connie, you’re about to fail.’
>You squeeze your eyes shut and shudder.
>Slowly, you reopen them and head out.
>Other members are warming up and you join them.

>Hooves shake from the pills and you barely can hold your violin steady.
>Breath Connie, you can do this.
>As Quiet joins you all, you feel more fear grow within.
>The first half begins.
>You play, though not as well as you have before.
>’You’re going to mess up.’
>Hooves are still shaking, heart is still racing, you’re sweating.
>The half way point approaches and your losing focus.
>Can’t mess up now, just reach intermission and you can rest.
>Fate isn’t so kind.
>Your desperate attempt to focus causes you mess up.
>You freeze, all eyes are on you aren’t they?
>Heart is pounding in your ears now.
>Ears are twitching.
>’Told you that you would ruin this. Look at what you did.’
>You’re sitting there, frozen.
>Zoning out in horror, you fail to notice that the others are still playing.
>’Such a failure, you finally screwed up everything Connie.’
>The music is still playing, but without you.
>Intermission finally arrives and you feel somepony touch you.
>Finally pulled out of whatever state you were in, you see Quiet and Friedrich talking to you.
>Their lips move, but you hear no words at first.
>”Connie? What happened?”
>>”I think she needs a doctor.”
>As Friedrich goes to move, you shoot up out of your seat and gallop to the dressing room.
>You slam the door behind you, take a few steps, and collapse in a pile.
>Tears cascade down your face, and you bury yourself in your hooves.
>’I told you that you this would happen, but did you listen? No, now you screwed things up for everypony.’
“No”
>’You think this is going to end well? Face it Connie, you blew it.’
“I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
>The door opens, and you freeze, trying not to make a sound.
>You fail at that, a few sniffles escape.
>”There you are! It’s alright, I found her. Connie? Can you hear me?”
>It’s Quiet, you don’t want to look at her.

>”I don’t know what happened out there, but do you need a doctor?”
>You can’t ignore her.
>As you answer, your voice is a little hoarse.
“I don’t know. Something is wrong with me.”
>She sits next to you and sighs.
>”Connie, we all mess up. While I don’t know what’s going on with you, do you think you can handle the second half?”
>’She only cares about herself, she doesn’t care about you.’
>You should answer her.
“I don’t think I can.”
>She is quiet for a moment.
>”Alright, we will manage, take some time off and get a hold of us when you find out what’s wrong.”
>You nod slowly.
>The tears have finally stopped.
>”Do you think you can make it home?”
“Yes.”
>She gets up and leaves you alone.
>Time sits still for you.
>At last, you slowly stand and go grab your things.
>You violin and case are sitting near the door, somepony must’ve put them there.
>As you trudge outside, you feel like garbage.
>It’s raining, of course it is.
>You avoid looking at other ponies and get a taxi home.
>Mind is blank along the way, and you say nothing.
>When the taxi stops, you hoof him some bits without bothering to count.
>The climb up the stairs feels like you’re climbing a cliff.
>Tears start to come loose again.
>Not like you care anymore.
>You close the door behind you and drop your things by the door.
>Dragging your hooves you make it to the bathroom.
>Your reflection is awful.
>Mascara stains your cheeks, eyes are blood shot, looks like you got flank hoofed to you.
>Without warning, you sob.
“Why did this happen to me? I did nothing wrong!”
>For a while, you lean against the sink, crying.
“Why?”
>It’s getting harder to stay awake, feeling so heavy.
>Slowly, you move to the bedroom and collapse on the bed.
>You curl up in a ball, crying yourself to sleep.