or why a filly learns the hard way
She didn’t know.
Okay, she theoretically did know that what she was saying was hurting the other foals, and she kind of enjoyed watching them cry and call for their mommies.
But she didn’t know that was also happening.
Apparently, and this was just what she had heard, because it was impossible to be true, everyone loved her, after all. Nobody liked her, not one single pony, even Silver Spoon her best friend, didn’t like her that much. Too many an insult, too many a critique (though to be fair they were full of flaws) too many a snickering commentary.
So when they decided to turn the tables on her, she didn’t know.
She didn’t know how it would feel to have every facet of herself being harshly put down, her Tiara, her eyes, her mane, her exuberant smell, all of that, plus more.
Apparently she was lazy, full of malice, and not all that smart, she was pretentious, and worse, not actually that pretty.
They had dared to insult her like that, and while anger had at first flared in her eyes, and she had struggled to answer back, now she was aware of the problem.
She was the problem.
And the fact that she was the problem hurt her more than anything her classmates could ever say to her....true, she had done the same, but her critiques had been messing around, if they had hurt it had been like a sting of a needle, brief, and almost painless. The comments they did to her? Those were anything but, they hurt her mind, her head, her heart, her body. How could they not when they were so mean spirited? So evil?´
Was that what she had been doing to her classmates? And if so, did she deserve forgiveness?
She had redemption as a choice, but it was a hard one, full of treacherous parts, and it would take a lot of time. Alternatively she could go home and put her pretty pink head to the pillow and think of things to hurt more, that one had a drunkard as a mother, this one had no mother, etc.
But the words had hurt her, and if they had hurt her, who was to tell her that her words hadn’t hurt the others? Who was to say she was better than them? Sure their insults, petty and childish, had come off as bad, but hadn’t she done the same? What was she to do? Simply apologize and tell them she wouldn’t do it again?
This reminded her of the time she had been in trouble in school. Foals rarely told the teacher when she did something wrong, after all, she made it very clear that she didn’t want that, but when they did, once or twice, she was called to the back room. The teacher was always calm
but Tiara felt like she was on a fine line, and stepping out of it would make her go and fall into a pit of punishments. She could always act sorry, when she wasn’t, but now she was and acting sorry would come more difficult, because....
Why did everything had to be so complicated? Tiara grabbed her head in a puff of rage, and blew softly with her lips. Not whispering, or whistling, but simply expressing her frustration, she wanted the insults to stop, and she was prepared to do the same, stop insulting others, even more so because it was a bad thing to do, and she had to be good and nice, but it was complicated. Like swallowing a dried up sock, she had to admit her mistakes. Ask for redemption, tell her classmates she was acting dumb.
She approached the cry babies, or the crusaders as they called themselves. They were a group she had teased mercilessly throughout their time, and they were pretty suspicious of her. Rumors had swung she had a crush on one of the members, but that wasn’t true, though that had made her tease them even more, as a sort of “Proof”.
They were wary of her and she totally understood why, Tiara’s eyes were red, and poofy, she had been crying, and not just because of the insults she had been dealt the following day. She felt guilt, remorse, something lodged in her stomach.
She wanted to pull out, and say it quick, admit her guilt and then run, she was sure nobody would forgive her, she certainly wouldn’t, but something glued her to the spot, they looked at one another, her eyes meeting the eyes of the crusader’s. The words were hard to come out but finally she managed to whisper, something, a meager “I’m sorry”.
Then she gathered all the air she could gather, closed her eyes and it came out as a torrent of words, too hard and too fast, but she had to get it out somehow and it was like pulling out a band aid, the faster the better.
The crusaders seemed offset by the tears forming and the torrent of words coming out, Tiara was usually very confident and prideful, not so much humble and willing to admit her mistakes.
A weeping pony which, when finished with her speech turned back, sure she wouldn’t be so easily forgiven. But a hoof to her back settled it. She might not have been forgiven, but she had shown remorse and admitted her guilt and that was a first step. A big one.
Throughout the following days Tiara helped all her classmates along, even those she felt she hadn’t wronged. After all, she was making an effort to better herself, the commentaries beneath her loud demeanor, that demarked a criticism, were rarer and rarer, and, eventually, she found herself with more and more friends, far more than Silver Spoon, which she didn’t forget. She was happy, the other foals were happy they weren’t being teased anymore and everything had ended up just fine. She liked her friends and they liked her, and she had herself to thank for it.
