They all think I'm the bouncy, loud, carefree party pony of the bunch. But they don't see my other side.
I, Pinkamena Diane Pie, am a baker, and dang good at it. It's become a second language to me, and I can't think of any other thing I would like to do in my spare time. Would you like a cupcake? No, I didn't think so. Nobody wants cupcakes since that rumor started, saying I use pony parts. But I am no killer. We all have darkness in us, hiding away, and my friends are the only lights in a dark tunnel of despair. I make others happy, but it's not just for them, because without their laughter, I'm just a shell.
My friends. Why don't they see? Why don't they help? Because I hide it well, and I fool them into believing the pain doesn't exist. But it does, and I'm reminded of it constantly, forcing myself to tear at the mental walls of sadness and regret. I used to have such joy in speaking with my friends, but now it's only a mere wave or some similar gesture in their direction, resulting in only a passing glance, or nothing at all; and this thought pains me, for I can't bear the thought of losing them, any one of them. Even my baked treats and the other sweets I indulge myself in are of little comfort. But that is another matter entirely. Thank Rarity for this vocabulary of which I use.
I suppose my family, except Maud, doesn't even recall my presence, or even think to write. How could they? I didn't share in their simple, dull ways of life, and I wanted something more. I found it not on the rock farm, but in a town, a community, from which return to that cursed farm is simply a nightmare. A nightmare of which I can never shake, and of which send the greatest chills down my spine, for it would mean the possibility of never seeing my friends again. I cannot bear that thought.
But then I found happiness; happiness in smiles, and sweet delights, and all the joyous things of which I spend my time among. But most of it is temporary, and I dread the day when it all ends up in ruins. It might be from a slip of the tongue, or a misunderstanding, but either way, that shall be the worst day in my life, and very well might be the end of it. I cannot bear that thought.
Such disgusting rumors, of the cannibalistic activities of which ponies think I participate in, and even the mere mention fills my throat with putrid liquid, threatening to spill over in a spew of bile and disgust. To think that I would come down to the low level of cannibalism, or even that I would sell such things, is something my mind can't wrap around, though I have come close when I had a very flexible neck. But I digress. The thought that even my friends would start such rumors about me, then believe them. I can't bear that thought.
I wonder if Twilight believes the tales spun about me from inside closed doors and shuttered windows, or if she even heard them, which is a low possibility. She doesn't concern herself in trivial things such as rumors and dark tales of treachery and vile acts upon one's own species. Cannibalism is an act, in Equestria, punished by banishment, which would break my mind and spirit in great ways. My deflated mane is so depressing to behold, that I can't look at it without a tear welling in my eye. The thought that it may be forever deflated, I can't bear the thought.
But you must think me a daemonic, evil, flesh-hungry, conspiring, dastardly pony, who only seeks to cut the flesh from another and consume it. It must be why you are here, you enjoy to see me suffer. Maybe if I suffocated on a cupcake, you would even smile? If it's what would bring a smile, even for a little while, to those mocking, cruel lips of yours, then it shall happen. But know why; I choose to smile, and I choose to make others smile, and their day in turn becomes a beacon to others, and its shroud of grey darkness lifts and their smiles grow even wider. It sickens me to think of all the unhappiness, the cruelty, the heartbreak, and the disgusting anger and hopelessness of others. I can't bear the thought. It is everything I despise.
A knock on the door? Who could possibly be visiting me at this evening hour, with such evil, filthy rumors upon the air? It must be one of them, or some foal come to mock upon my being. Well, they shall see the true face of Pinkamena when I open that door, and they shall indeed run in terror, if not before. I will not be the subject of looming mystery and morbid fascination within my own house!
I fling the door open. "What do you want!? Come to laugh, and throw rocks and debris at me! GO AHEAD YOU WHORSE!"
I open my eyes, and see it was indeed Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash who had knocked. I immediately begin to stammer, but Shy and Dash are already trotting speedily away, and I hear crying from the shy mare. I feel tears surface, and I can do nothing to stop my head hitting the hard wood of the wall. My stupidity and anger had caused me great pain today, and now the only thing I could think of was to stuff my face with sweets. Perhaps it would even bring joy to ponies, for they already believe me to be a monster, and little can be done to defuse rumors as large, grotesque and unimaginable as this.
As I eat, I feel sleepy, oh so sleepy... but sleep must be avoided, at least until I finish my feasting on these delicate, flaky pastries, which bring me such comfort in dark times. Oh why, why am I required to keep this facade going? I'm forced to be the unintelligent, bouncy, spontaneous and eternally energetic mare everybody can smile at. But how can they smile at such a lonely face? How can I embrace foals and fillies with hooves which have cut the flesh of the owner? How can they see me as anything but s pitiful existence of a mare?
Either way, loneliness is just a part of life, so I must accept it if I am to have any hope of renewing my relationships with other ponies. For now, rest is a wonderful idea, and it pulls me in, into the black abyss of temporary silence and peace. If only this facade didn't have to be kept, but it does, so I can only watch and try not to shed tears among flour covered floorboards. Perhaps solutions may come in my sleep....
Author's Note
DO NOT GET ME WRONG, I LOVE THE STORY CUPCAKES! But I wanted to do a reference for so long. This is my views on Pinkie's inner thoughts, and her possible feelings and story behind the whole thing. I plan on doing these for the rest of the Mane 6, the rest of the CMC, and finally the other two princesses, and maybe even Chrysalis.
That is all, thank you for reading, even though it felt, to me, rather incomplete, but I had my story to tell, and that I have done. I hope to see you in another chapter/story, and try to look on the bright side of things, as I have forgotten to do today. Tomorrow should be better.
