Deflated

by cheetahme9

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad, Tragedy
Length: 784

There are many times, I have felt deflated. I have always recovered. Until I realize I haven't.

Deflated usually means to let the air out of something. But my definition is different. Deflated means despair, sadness, loneliness, etc. Like how I'm feeling. Like how I'm meant to feel.
My name's Pinkie Pie and I'm deflated.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-04 00:06:30 UTC

Forever Deflated

I used to love happiness. Used to. I would smile all the time, and throw parties to make everyone happy. Well, not anymore. I am meant to be deflated, forever deflated.

I realized this when I met her. Rainbow Dash. She was new to Ponyville, and I was planning on throwing her a Welcome-To-Ponyville party, like I always did when I met somepony new. But, first I had to know what Rainbow Dash was like so I could throw her the best possible party ever. One to meet her personality. "Hiya! My name's Pinkie Pie!" I introduced myself to the blue pegasus.

"Hi, Pinkie Pie. I'm Rainbow Dash, the most amazing pony ever! Can you do me a favor?" I didn't expect her to talk so much, so I probably looked very shocked. Most ponies are shy, like that yellow pegasus. What was her name again? Foottershy? Lutterpie? It doesn't matter.

Of course, I said yes to the favor Rainbow Dash asked of me. What nice pony wouldn't? Rainbow Dash started to whisper 'I need you to.... stay out of my way." I was VERY surprised there. Everypony was so nice here! What was her deal? "Kidding!" the mare giggled when she saw my expression. To admit, I was hurt. Sure, I've played pranks before. But they were always nice ones, ones that made the pony laugh, not make them sad. But I was Pinkie Pie, the happy pony, and it was my job to be happy and inspire others to do so as well. Be deflated? Never! I put a smile on my face and lied through my muzzle. "Good one!"

Now that I had decided what kind of pony Rainbow Dash was, and what party I would throw her, I had to invite her. "Rainbow Dash, I'm throwing you a welcome party!!!! Can you meet me at Sugarcube Corner, at 2?" I asked. She nodded. I couldn't wait!

When it was 2 o'clock, I had everything set up. Rainbow Dash came into the room and a smile... never happened. In fact, tears came crashing down her muzzle. A pony crying? At a party? At MY party? "Rainbow Dash?" I asked quietly. "How could you?" she screamed.

"I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" Rainbow Dash flew out of Sugarcube Corner. I had... failed. I never failed before, and I don't plan on doing so again. Failure was a bitter taste, nopony likes it. Failure sat on my tongue all that day.... and all the rest of my life. Failure caused me to be deflated. Forever and on. What had caused me to fail? I don't know. The rainbow cupcakes? The rainbow decorations? The rainbow party?

Everyday, it caused me pain to live in Ponyville. So I moved, to a place where I hoped I would never see Rainbow Dash again. Manehattan. Did I mention that my once balloon-like hair deflated, just like my happiness?

So, that's the story. Excuse me, but my assistant, Carole Bells is calling me. "You have a visitor." the yellow unicorn helper is telling me. I tell her to let the guest in.

The pony enters. I can't tell who it is at first, but I slowly realize who it is. Her. "What do you want?" I sneer. Rainbow Dash looks at me guilty, then toughens up.

"Look Pinkie, I'm sorry for what happened. It just reminded me of something. Something...important." The pegasus wiped the tears from her tears. I stiffen. "It wasn't because of you." I lie. She takes in a breath.

"When I moved to Ponyville, I moved because of my dad. His death made me feel like it was my fault." she started. "My dad got a REALLY bad case of the feather flu. When I told him that we should go to the doctor, he shrugged it off. But that feather flu turned to cancer in his wings. I felt that if I just had convinced him a little bit more to go to the doctor, he would been alive." Rainbow Dash used her wings to dry her face. I want to cry, but I don't want to be deflated again. "What does this have to do with me?" I ask a little to tough. "My dad used to throw me rainbow-themed parties. When I saw what you threw me, it reminded me how it was my fault that he died."

I started to comfort her. "Listen, his death wasn't your fault. And I forgive you. But I'm not moving back." She sniffles and says. "That's good enough for me." And then she throws her muzzle into my mane and cries. There is only one word to describe her mood. Deflated.