Episode 2…Equus.
Let me tell you about the horses.
Horses have always been a huge part of my life, for as long as I can remember. My dad forced old 1940′s westerns on me, though I never much liked them unless there were a ton of horses featured. He also used to play a lot of wild west inspired table RPGs, which left me with numerous tiny plastic equines and a number of finely crafted plastiv olympic-outfit dressage riders to go with them. There were also horse images, stuffed ponies, and horse crazy movies in my early childhood. The Last Unicorn was my facorite movie of all time then… and still is.
I started riding horses when I was 9. I still remember my very first lesson so clearly – I couldn’t stop smiling, and totally felt on top of the world. I had finally made my dream come true. I also made great friends with my riding teacher, who, even though I don’t ride with her anymore, I still adore and talk to when I can. She was like the mother I never had. My real mother, while still alive, just doesn’t understand children. She’s your classic Disney workaholic, and I have hardly any good memories of her, to be honest. But I continue to live with her, just as a much more reserved and quiet person than I’d like to be.
Back on topic, horses mean so much to me. They’re the only things I feel like I can draw well, even though I know that’s not true, and they’re the only things I ever feel like drawing. I stopped riding a few months ago altogether, just weeks after losing my ability to ride Retribution, my favorite horse, whom I took care of all of that summer on my own. The week I found out I couldn’t ride him anymore, I cried myself to sleep every night. I was miserable in school, so much that even my friends noticed at one point. When it came time for my last lesson with him, which ended in me loading him onto the trailer to go to his new home, I totally lost it. I cried more than I ever have before in the car on the way to the new farm, and I think even my parents may have noticed. They never seem to notice when I cry. Or, if they do, they tell me I shouldn’t be crying because whatever I’m crying about is all my fault and I should take responsibility for it, rather than running away like I do.
Horses don’t judge me like that. In fact, they help me get over myself. It doesn’t take much for a horse to love you, but when they do, at least you know you matter to someone.
