Diamond Tiara stared silently at the shattered pieces of her sparkling silver namesake. She gently ran a hoof over the broken bits of her tiara. A gift, given to her by her Grandmare just before she died, her most treasured possession…gone. Broken by her own hoof in a moment of all-consuming rage and pain.
She sniffled quietly, reveling in her self pity. With a yelp of pain, she quickly removed her hoof as one of the sharp pieces poked her skin.
What a fool she was, destroying her own tiara. She’d just…thrown it against the wall like a little filly. Perhaps her mother could fix it…?
The door creaked open, she glanced up, blinking past the tears, to see her mother gently peeking her head though the doorway. The mare’s gaze flickered over the broken headpiece, but she did not mention it. Instead, she levitated out a package to her daughter.
“Golden Platter stopped by.” Silence.
“She found this in…Silver’s room. It’s addressed to you…she’s assuming she would have wanted you to have it.”
Diamond Tiara nodded mutely and reached out for the package. Her mother ducked her head out of the room, the door creaking shut behind her. The filly gently ran her hooves over the little brown box. Attached to the top was a note, the paper the light silver of her friend’s stationary. She carefully unfolded the piece of paper and began to read.
Dear Diamond Tiara,
You should know I haven’t been happy for a long time. Then again, I suppose that’s pretty clear, given that if you are in fact reading this, then I have succeeded with what I intend to do.
First off, I feel I should apologize to you. You’re no doubt feeling angry and hurt and abandoned, and please just know that I never wanted you to feel this way.
But I have to start thinking about myself for once. I’m just...so…tired. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be the happy little school-filly, the pretty rich girl, or any of it anymore. I can’t be Silver Spoon. I think…this is what’s best for me.
This…it’s my only choice, I believe that this might be the best thing to bring me something like happiness.
As I said… I haven’t been happy for a while, longer than I can remember, in fact.
I used to think I was happy…in my life, as your friend. When we made fun of those other three, the cutie-mark crusaders, it kept out the hurt that occasionally broke its way through my pretend. Given all we had been raised to believe, it was easy place them below me when they had no cutie marks.
But then they found their special talents. Now one’s a singer, another a stunt performer, the last a home designer. Maybe those things don’t seem important in the high-society life we were raised for, but it’s what makes them happy. Does it matter then?…if we had our cutie marks before them? They found their talent in things that they love, they’re happy.
Oh Tiara, we pretended to be so much better than them. In truth, they are so much more than you or I will ever be. Tiara…I don’t even know what my special talent is anymore. It seems like my cutie mark was always there. My life was chosen out to be that of a wealthy, but miserable pony. I have no special talent. I can’t remember when it was, or what I was doing when I earned my cutie mark. I’m trapped as Silver Spoon, heir to several million and a life full of “What Could Have Been”…
I’m not special…
And I’m not happy. This, at least, will be the act that brings me the closest to happiness….I’m setting myself free.
I want you to have something of mine. It’s very special to me, reminds me of a better time. It might be just as important to me as that tiara is to you.
It’s in the box. Go on, open it-
Diamond Tiara tossed aside the note and pulled the lid of the little box. Sitting inside was a faded, old doll. She carefully pulled it out and felt tears prick her eyes. It was the doll she had made Silver Spoon for her 5th birthday, during a phase when Tiara had been convinced her destiny was to sew.
It had her pale pink coat, with Silver’s light grey mane, made from yarn. With little purple buttons for eyes, and a silvery heart for a cutie mark. Silver had named it Miss Muffy.
Grabbing the doll, she turned back to the note quickly.
Do you remember her, Tiara? Do you remember back when we were young and innocent? You were convinced your special talent was going to be in sewing…and you made me this, as a sign of our friendship on my birthday.
Of all the things I have received over the years, all the expensive presents and treats…This is my favorite gift, because it came from the heart.
Take care of her for me Tiara. Please?
I guess that’s it then. The time is closing in on me. I can’t wait.
I’m going to be free.
Please, forgive me Diamond Tiara…
And…maybe it’s too late for me to be happy, but maybe, just maybe, you can still be happy. Happy enough for the both of us.
Love,
Silver Spoon
Diamond Tiara released the note, watching it float to the ground. Gently, she scooped up Miss Muffy and hugged her tightly to her chest. Leaning against the wall, she held the doll close and sniffled as tears began to drift down her cheeks. Each word from the letter pounded through her head, accompanied by the images etched in her brain of the little grey filly...asleep in her bed, never to wake. At last, Diamond Tiara released her pain, and she cried until she had no tears left.
“Oh, Spoon.” she whispered.
