Whorn: A Debutante's Dark Descent Into Debauchery

When I was approached by my New Yoke Times best selling author friend Rarity to write a foreword for this book, the landmark tenth printing of Whorn: A Debutante’s Dark Descent into Debauchery, I was instantly humbled; not out of any sense of feeling honored that she selected me over better qualified authors to leave my mark upon an already wonderfully written tale – but because the offer, much like the book itself, was a reminder of a time in my life that I’d just as soon forget. As anypony who has already read this book knows, I played a part in her story and while it depicts me in a less than flattering light, I have gone on record as stating that every account in Whorn regarding my actions during this period of my life is one hundred percent accurate. Time and again, I am asked if I still have any negative feelings toward Rarity for ruining my life. I hope that my consent to write this foreword will put such questions to rest. I no longer harbor any resentment toward Rarity whatsoever. I have forgiven her. I love her. I will admit that there were times when I wanted to beat her up. There were times when I actually did beat her up. There were even times when she beat me up (A word to the wise: Don’t ever get into a fight with Rarity. She’s as ferocious as they come). It was a classic abusive codependent relationship. We hated being together and we couldn’t stay apart. You know the old expression about one day looking back on bad times and being able to laugh about them? That’s what Rarity and I do now along with Fluttershy, Applejack, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie. To this day, we are all still the closest of friends. We even take turns paying for our group therapy sessions.

Though my judgment was impaired by Harmon-E at the time during which the events in Whorn took place, I still accept full responsibility for my behavior as any full grown mare or stallion should. Rarity may have been the one who started me on Harmon-E but it was my decision to continue to get high with her and the consequences of that decision were, and continue to be, mine to bear. Am I ashamed of the things that I did? Absolutely. Anypony with a decent heart would be. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish that there was some sensationalized embellishment within the pages of this book that I could point a hoof at and say “that’s a lie!” – but it all happened, exactly as written. (I have made many an excursion to Saddle Arabia and learned much about their myths and legends. Three guesses as to what I’m going to wish for if or when I find a djinni in a lamp.) I have made reparations where necessary for the harm that I’ve done and I'm always looking to do more.

It would be much easier for me to judge Rarity for what she did to me if I hadn’t also felt the effects of Harmon-E. We talk about it in therapy all the time. If we didn’t, we’d probably go crazy all over again. Since the other crown princesses are the only other living ponies in Equestria biologically capable of receiving a Harmon-E high, I can describe it without fear of selling some curious unicorn on the idea that they should try it.

Picture everypony in the world as your one true love. I know how implausible that sounds but just try. This “world population pony” knows everything about you and you know everything about them. You trust each other implicitly. Now picture them throwing you an enormous party; the biggest you’ve ever seen. You’re having the best time of your life with food and drink above and beyond anything you’ve ever tasted. Everything’s glowing, vibrant and festive. Everypony’s brought you a fantastic gift that was exactly what you wanted. Now picture them confessing to you that you are their true love. You proceed to make love passionately. It’s warm and sweet and wonderful. Your world population lover is so happy to be in your company and you’re happy to be in theirs. They want to do this with you forever. Paying attention to you. Seeing to your every need. Numbing every pain. Offering you tranquility, pleasure and comfort on par with the womb. Now multiply that by a thousand. That is one one-thousandth of what being on Harmon-E feels like.

Now imagine being given the bum’s rush and a kick in the plot out into the cold, unfeeling darkness of space and having the door to planet Earth closed and locked behind you. You’re all alone. Nopony notices or cares that you’re gone. The air you breathe feels like dust. That’s what coming off of Harmon-E is like.

I know that what I experienced wasn’t real love but here’s the thing: it didn’t need to be real to be enjoyed. That was its allure. I wanted that sweet artificial love again and again, preferring the high over food and sleep and definitely preferring it over coming down. When I was off, everypony around me looked like gray paper dolls. The real world seemed to be composed of flat photographs. Having that kind of lavish out-of-body experience and then being thrust back into mundane reality was nothing short of a nightmare. Rarity approved of the term I came up for it: emotional frostbite. I wanted to rejoin that paradise in my head at all costs. If there’s an earthly comfort that can compare to Harmon-E, I have yet to discover it – and now that I know that I have addictive tendencies, I’m afraid of finding it. The absence of that high is something that I struggle with to this very day and I will continue to have that empty feeling inside of me for as long as I live. Beating addiction isn’t about getting to where you say “I’m strong and I don’t want my drug anymore”. It’s about getting to where you say “I’m weak and I’ll always want my drug but I want my normal life more”. That’s our daily affirmation, Rarity’s and mine.

It does not help.

We say it anyway.

If the fear of falling back into our old habits isn’t enough incentive for us to stay clean, the fear of Princess Celestia’s royal decree certainly is. If either one of us are found willfully getting our Harmon-E fix on with each other, both of us will be sentenced to a public de-horning in Canterlot Square. Princess Celestia has personally shown me the horn removal machine in the castle dungeon and has assured me that while it’s collected dust over the centuries that it has been out of use, it still works as well as the day it was built. Neither Rarity nor I want the removal of the other’s horn on our consciences and so we bear the nuisance of our unscratchable itch together. Indulging ourselves one more time wouldn’t do either of us any good for very long. You always want to be riding high on Harmon-E and with our horns removed, we’d never be able to experience it a second time.

As a filly, I pondered the nature of good and evil and whether one can wash out the evil they’ve done by doing many more good things to overshadow it. As a mare, I’ve learned that the answer is no. My evil deeds cast a very tall shadow. Once committed, a truly evil deed can never be erased by good deeds that may follow. It can be forgiven. For those who have forgiven me, Celestia bless you – because for all the good I’ve done since that time, I have never forgiven myself for the ponies I’ve harmed, embarrassed or humiliated.

My parents are decent ponies. They instilled proper morals within me as a foal which served me well in my adulthood. Sadly, none of their teachings could have prepared me for Harmon-E. Once clean, I legitimately felt terrible about the things I did to obtain my next high. The expression “I couldn’t control myself” is one which I could never understand prior to my addiction. I prided myself on my dedication to my studies, my maturity level and my self-control. I could not control myself long enough to do the right thing and getting a fix of Harmon-E was the best cure for the depression that came with knowing I was an out of control addict.

Prior to its initial release, my parents were sent an advance copy of Whorn. Naturally, they had reservations about a book containing disturbing details about their only daughter up to her neck in some pretty serious manure. My mom asked me one question.

“Twilight, honey, you’re a full grown mare so you don’t need our approval but are you sure that this is what you really want published about you?”

“Yes,” I replied. “If this story can save even one pony from falling prey to their vices, then I can honestly say that something good came of it.”

My dad also asked me one question as he levitated both the book and a black Pointy marker.

“Could you please autograph our copy?”

You’d have to know my dad to appreciate his sense of humor.

To Rarity’s credit, she wrote an amazing book despite the fact that it wasn’t intended for anypony’s eyes but her own and that she was bat guano crazy for a good portion of it. Her attention to detail is what made her such a successful fashion designer so it should have come as no surprise to me that she would bring that same discerning eye to her memoirs – but it did. (Sorry, Rarity!) She possesses such a keen sense of what makes a journal entry so interesting to read that one would almost think that she wrote this in anticipation of having it published during her lifetime. (CAUTION: SHAMELESS PLUG AHEAD) Had I known that she was so adept at writing, I would have asked her to be my ghost writer for I Can’t Flap To This: From Unicorn to Airborne in Twelve Queasy Steps, my own book also published by Simon & Horseshuster, (now available in softcover wherever better books are sold.) Rainbow Dash has often said that Daring Do books are “unputdownable”. While I don’t care for that train wreck of a word of hers, I have to admit that the ersatz pseudo-adjective describes Whorn accurately, albeit imperfectly. Any adult pony who has ever started reading this book and then put it down was either too prudish to read it objectively or was being chased by timberwolves – and I’d be willing to bet that at least one timberwolf has Rarity to thank for a slow-moving meal.

Arguably, the important thing to remember about Rarity’s tale is that she chose to publish the journal entries documenting her addiction for educational purposes and I commend her for doing something so selfless when she could just as easily have run off and started a new life over in a new town. She owned up to her mistakes and turned her negative experience into a positive one. How can you not respect that? To her detractors who claim that she published her story for financial gain, I say that you have no idea what the hay you’re talking about. Exactly ninety-nine percent of the proceeds from the sales of this book that you are holding in your hot little hooves have gone to fund Simply Divine Intervention, Rarity’s very own non-profit charity program designed to help ponies and their families who are affected by addiction. They can help with everything from gambling to salt abuse to bubble wrap popping. If that’s something that you can’t respect, I honestly don’t know what to do with you. Rarity and I bounced back from our ordeal and we are enjoying life once again as normal ponies. We were lucky in that we were surrounded by loved ones who wanted to save us from ourselves. She created Simply Divine Intervention for the sole purpose of helping those who are not so fortunate. Way to go, Rare! (Author’s Edit: You know that I don’t like being called Rare, Twilight.) That’s generosity for you! If you or somepony you know is battling an addiction and needs help, please contact Simply Divine Intervention at the address in the acknowledgments section of this book.

If I had to critique anything about this book, it would have to be the title. It’s a portmanteau of “whore” and “horn” and is the main reason why this book is forbidden from gracing the esteemed shelves of my beloved Golden Oak Library, despite there being at least a hundred works containing far more explicit depictions between its covers of good ol’ you-know-what in the romance section alone. The age demographic that the committee thinks it’s protecting by banning this book is unknown to me. The library has precautionary measures in place that restrict foals from checking out books intended for adults. Much to my chagrin, the majority of foals in Ponyville don’t even visit the library (except when they’re stalking me) much less check out books – and the few who do visit have little interest in checking out what they perceive to be a boring non-fiction book about boring grownups doing boring grownup things. I have fought the Ponyville Library Committee tooth and hoof to lift their ban but, time and again, they have proven to be obstinate in their refusal to budge on this, even going so far as to have Princess Luna cast an enchantment spell on the library which magically prevents any copies of Whorn from entering the doors of Golden Oak. Talk about going over my head! I’m no slouch in the magic department but even I can’t disenchant an enchantment cast by one of the eternal sisters. To anypony reading this foreword, please don’t try to sneak your own copy into Golden Oak as it (the book) will immediately catch fire and the resulting flames may cause property damage, serious personal injury and even death.

I know.

I’ve tried.

I can only imagine that Princess Luna’s objection to Whorn stems from her own well documented fall from grace as Nightmare Moon and would prefer to spare a fellow alicorn am eternity of embarrassment. While I appreciate her concern, what she may not realize is that Rarity’s book was published with the consent of everypony, a detail that I’m sure the committee failed to point out to her. In all the times that I’ve dealt with stubborn ponies, the Ponyville Library Committee towers above the rest as the least amenable to reason. I encourage everypony in possession of more time and patience than I currently have and who believes in their right to public access to quality literature to contact them at the address listed in the acknowledgments of this book. You will earn my gratitude in doing so.

By the way, please don’t use salty language in your letters to the committee. It won’t get you anywhere with them.

I know.

I’ve tried.

Love and magic,

Princess Twilight Sparkle