What do you make of me?

The cell is dank despite the thick, muggy atmosphere outside. It would not surprise me if my confinement was enchanted to be like it is. I think they reserve cells like these for ponies like me, full of rotten air and with a window to an angry sky, red with the setting sun. It's not pretty, it's Celestia's anger. Everyone's angry now. It's not a surprise but I don't like it. A part of me understands it but they have no idea what even happened, they just read in the paper that I'm a despicable monster. They'll be out there, tomorrow, waiting. Leering and booing as I'm taken wherever it is I'll have to go. They always do that, everyone does it. Ponies read about things in the paper or hear about them from whoever and think they know everything about it. It happens every day and I bet you do it. You learn about some terrible crime and think "Oh, those poor ponies! What a terrible, inexcusable, horrifying thing to do! Why, execution would be too good for him, I do hope that he burns in Tartarus for all eternity!" and you never think about what it's like from their position. Considering their point of view has never crossed your mind. If you can honestly say otherwise, well done. Your open-mindedness is a trait not shared by many. We talk about love and tolerating but what we don't do is think, because it's not the social norm. We aren't taught to consider the thoughts of the pony on the receiving end of the public hatred. There is simply general consensus that they deserve it and that is all.

A moment of weakness was all it took, a single mistake. I knew what I was doing and how it would seal my fate but I would have gone insane if I hadn't. It wasn't a want, it was a need. I had to do it. There was no stopping this. That's something no-one considers as well- why you do it. Knowing it's highly illegal and risky ponies think it's something you just do when you feel like it? I didn't want to do it and I would have done anything to stop it but I couldn't.

I didn't want this. I never made myself the way I am and if I could be something else I would be. But I can't. Yet another thing; everyone seems to think that when you are this, you're fine with it and are fine with acting on it, you've accepted it as one does with else about oneself. But when something is so abnormal, so disgraceful in the public eye, you don't just deal with it. You hate it and you hate yourself for it. Knowing it won't change is the worst part. You'll always be like this with these desires and it's awful, knowing that you will always be hated for something that is not your fault.

I am about to die. I am going to be put on trial, found guilty and executed. Archaic, but that's how it was hundreds of years ago and it's so uncommon no-one thought to change the law. Perhaps now they will and some good will come of my death. I can only hope.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me go from the beginning.