It's Raining.

It's raining hard tonight. It only makes me think of her. I think about her and her clouds and her wind and her smile. It seems the only time I'm not thinking of her is when I am thinking of me, and everything that is wrong with me, and how much I wish I was perfect like her. It starts to rain harder.  The pitter-patter drumstick sound on the roof of the clubhouse seems to have lulled the others into a peaceful sleep.  Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom lay snugly and silently beside me; their sleeping bags move slowly up and down with their breathing. I have been lying awake on my own for two hours, staring blankly at the ceiling. I can't sleep. My mind is swimming with a cacophany of thoughts, most of which are unpleasant. I know I won't get to sleep anytime soon. It's hard to rest with a head full of worry. I really just want to leave. To stretch my legs, mabye go on a walk. I don't know of anyplace I could go. I don't know of anyone I could talk to. I don't even know what time it is. I just want to go somewhere.  Anywhere.

So I do. I move slowly out of my sleeping bag, careful not to rub the fabric the wrong way and make a crinkling noise.  I carefully step over Sweetie Belle, who's laying to my right. As I walk to the door, I step on a floorboard which creaks and groans loudly, but it doesn't wake up either of the girls. Apple Bloom just sighs in her sleep and rolls over slightly. I'm sure the pitter-patter sound is masking my hoofsteps. I'm thankful that it's raining. It's raining.

It's raining.

I haven't even realized.  I'm going to get soaked. I consider going back to bed. After staring out the doorway for a minute or so, I decide against it. I start cautiously climbing down the wet wooden ladder, pausing between each rung so my hooves didn't slip. Slow and steady. It's hard to even see the ladder, the night is so dark. The moon and stars are covered with a blanket of storm clouds. It seems like forever before I finally got to the bottom. The raindrops are falling heavily on my head, slicking down my mane and covering my eyes with a thick violet curtain. They are more like rain spears than raindrops. They're the kind of raindrops that are nice to look at when you're warm and toasty, looking outside from your bedroom window. They are not the kind of raindrops that are nice when you're outdoors. These kinds of raindrops fall hard and fast, running icily over my coat and tail and sending shivers up my spine. My hooves became caked in mud as I quickly trot to find shelter under the nearest apple tree. It is a red delicious. I climb clumsily onto a low branch, searching for apples to eat as I wring out my mane and tail, splashing more water onto the ground below. No luck. This tree is not in bloom yet. At least we have something in common.

I stretch out on a branch and close my eyes. Slippery leaves brush my face, protecting me from the storm.

The storm.

Once again, it reminds me of her.

I think it's very inconvenient that the mare I have a crush on happens to control the weather. I mean, how pathetic is it to be so enamored with somepony that you can't even recognize the state of the weather without thinking about her? Every time I feel the wind in my mane, or  look for shapes in the clouds, or lay in high grass with the sun on my face, I can't help wondering if she's on the other side making it happen. I'm just so amazed by everything she does. I could never tell anyone that. Not even Sweetie Belle or Apple Bloom. I wouldn't sound like myself. I would just sound stupid. Even if I wanted to tell them, I couldn't even begin to describe how I feel about her. She's just so...

Awesome. She's pretty. She's friendly. She's cool. And I am unabashedly her biggest fan.

She'll never like me, though. I mean, not the same way I like her. She barely ever notices me. Now that I think about it, she probably doesn't even like me that much as a friend, let alone as something more.  But I think there's something I wish for even more than having her as my fillyfriend. What I what more than anything is to BE her.  I want her talent, her style, and most of all, her confidence. I think the reason I look up to her so much is that she's so confident. And that she has a reason to be confident. I wish I did, too. I wish I had something to be proud of. It's about more than just getting my cutie mark. I want to have a purpose. I act like I'm fine. I put on a happy face for my friends. But, the truth is, I don't think I'll be happy until I find what I'm meant to do.  And I think that's true for all three of us, at least a little bit, even if we don't talk about it much.

But I guess I'll have to wait. We'll all have to wait. Until we bloom like this apple tree. Because we don't really have a choice, do we? We just have to give it some time. Until then, we'll have each other. We'll always have each other.

The rain is beginning to stop. I think I've lost track of time. Have I been here minutes, hours? It's hard to tell when you've been thinking so much. I really wonder what time it is, after all it's hard to tell if the sun's up with all these clouds in the way. And that's all they are. Just clouds. I'm starting to get a little sleepy. This branch is more comfy than I thought it would be. Or maybe I'm just too tired. I guess I should start heading back now, before I doze off and they have to come looking for me in the morning. Tomorrow is another day. And another adventure.