Dad,
Bet you didn't think I'd write to you, huh? You probably don't care if I do or not. All the other cadets are writing to their parents, though, so I figure I'll take this chance to say a few things that I never had the courage to before.
Yeah, that's right. The other cadets. I should have mentioned that I'm at the Wonderbolt Academy.
I'll give you a moment to let that sink in.
Ready to keep going? Good. Yes, I'm writing to you from the Wonderbolt Academy. You know, the place where pegasi go to train to become Wonderbolts.
No, I'm not cleaning the floors, or scrubbing the toilets, or any of those oh-so-hilarious jokes your little mind's probably coming up with. I am a full-fledged Wonderbolt cadet. Just like you said I'd never do. Seems like you were wrong about a lot of things, huh? You were wrong when you said I'd never finish school, you were REALLY wrong when you said mom would come crawling back...I could go on, but I'm only allowed so much paper for this letter.
It feels really good to prove you wrong. I sure wasn't allowed to do that when I was still at home. Celestia forbid anypony ever call you out on your BS under your roof. By the way, technically, mom bought the house, so you calling it "your roof" isn't even legally accurate. Not like it really matters. She's not coming back, and I'm sure she's gotten herself a much better house by this point. You're just left with her scraps, and you should be lucky she's letting you have them.
Thanks for all the support you gave me, by the way. A lot of ponies probably wouldn't call what you did "support," but I know better. I look at support as something that somepony uses as a driving force to achieve their goals. So really, in all your time being a condescending jerk, throwing insults at me and telling me I didn't have enough wingpower to rustle up a gentle breeze and I'd never make it in any type of field that required flying ability, you were giving me your own kind of support. The kind of support that made me want to succeed so bad just to shut you up and prove you wrong. I'll make sure your Father of the Year award arrives in the mail.
Speaking of support, I'm sure you'll be very indifferent to know that I'm making plenty of friends here. You know, friends? Those things I never got much of a chance to make when I was young because you always had me doing everything around the house and left me no time to socialize? I'm in a class with seven other ponies, and for the most part, we all get along pretty well. Plus, there's this one mare I met there. She's my team partner, actually. We're getting along really well. I'm thinking of asking her out when all of this is done.
Not that any of this pertains to you. You won't be meeting her. The last thing I need is for you to get anywhere near her. With the way that you seem to naturally repulse anypony with an ounce of goodness in their hearts, I think "meeting dad" is pretty low on my priority list. You already chased mom away. I don't need you doing that to what could potentially be the next important mare in my life.
I guess I should at least make an attempt to be somewhat cordial. How are you? What have you been up to? Still unemployed, living off of the settlement you got for that "injury?" I knew that was fake, by the way. You're a pegasus, for pony's sake. Are we really supposed to believe that you fell on that "unsafe road?" You're lucky the jury did, otherwise life would probably suck pretty hard for you. Sure, mom's letting you keep the house, all expenses paid, but how could you afford your precious beer without some form of income? Celestia knows you aren't qualified for any legitimate job. I'm not even sure retail jobs would take you. You need a certain degree of likability for a job like that, and from living with you for sixteen years, I can safely say that you don't have that.
Wow. It feels just fantastic to say all of this. These are all things that I'd have loved to say to you a long time ago. It feels so good to say them to you now, and even better knowing that there isn't a thing you can do about it. I mean come on. What could you honestly do to me now? Sure, you were big and scary when I was young, but not anymore. Heck, if I were to see you again, I'd dare you to try and hit me like you used to. That'd be fun to watch.
And yet you still have one up on me. Even when you're not here, even when I'm off doing what you said I couldn't do, even at the moment that I should be riding high and feeling great, you still have one up on me. The other cadets are all writing to their parents too, just like I said. They're all smiling and having a fine time. They probably had normal childhoods, with fathers who were fathers to them in more than just the scientific sense. They've probably got fathers who took pride in what they accomplished, and who encouraged them to go out and try their hardest at whatever it might have been that they were interested in. They all seem happy to write to their parents, and here I am, a miserable lump. Maybe you and I have more in common than we thought.
Except there's one major difference. I'm out doing what I've always wanted, and you're doing nothing. I'm gonna be somepony, and you're always going to be nopony. I'm gonna achieve every goal I set for myself and find somepony to be happy with, and you're going to miss everything cool and die angry, because that's the way you lived.
I should cut this off. I'll be surprised if you even read this far. Whether you do or not, though, it feels damn good to finally say these things to you. I'd say that I hope you take these things to heart, but you won't. That's life.
Your son (in blood only),
Snowflake
Wonderbolt Cadet
