43

They know

They know they know they know they know they know they know

Okay, not about that, but the other thing. I mean, you would think that somepony getting sick, once in a while, wouldn’t be that big of an issue. It was greasy food, anyway, and I really shouldn’t been having it in the first place, and yeah. I mean, for crying out loud, I made it to the bathroom, so I don’t know what the deal is.

Also, I’m getting really, really sick of everypony just popping up out in the middle of wherever I’m trying to walk. I’m starting to get paranoid about doorways, for crying out loud, since it’s like you can’t open a door without somepony trying to talk to you, and I just want to be left alone.

I’m sure I’ll fall asleep eventually. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out against it. My body feels like it’s sagging and my brain feels like I just got spun around in the wonderbolts trainee whirler for, like, hours. But maybe if I put it off long enough, I’ll be too busy being unconscious to actually have any dreams. That’s the hope, anyway. I don’t want to risk that ever again.

Distracted. Sorry. So it’s not one, but two ponies who were waiting to talk to me. Guess who? Here’s a hint: I wasn’t being asked to a party, or to help try on some dresses, or to do…some garden-y things, I don’t know.

“We need to talk,” Applejack said, glaring at me. And I thought, like, what’s her trouble? Was I supposed to move a couple of clouds, or something? So I straight-up asked her what was wrong. And then Twilight gave me this stare like, I don’t know, like I was being some kind of problem or something.

“We just think you might have a problem”, she said. “We want to talk about it.” Yeah, she does. I figured she was trying to warn me about some strain of, I don’t know, Pegasus flu or something, so I asked her about that.

“Hon,” Applejack goes, “The bags under your eyes have bags under ‘em. And I’m pretty sure a hayburger’s never made you sick before. You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

“Oh, like you’d know about that,” I say.

“Actually, ah would.” She says, and I start thinking oh crud, because she actually would. Actually both of them probably do, and the way Twilight narrowed her eyes at me pretty much implied she was used to studying for some, like, nerd tests or something, I don’t know.

“Did you have some kind of nightmare?” she asked.

I don’t know if my body tensed up or whatever, but the looks they gave me pretty much confirmed some kind of yes. And so I’m thinking, screw this, but they were blocking my way out of the bathroom so I pretty much couldn’t go anywhere, and I was/am pretty dizzy, so I basically had to listen to Twilight say

“Does this have something to do with your secret special somepony?”,

At which point I’m pretty sure I said something vulgar.

“Dash”, AJ said in that no-nonsense-don’t-you-mess-with-me voice that I absolutely hated/hate, “Talk.”

So I’m like “I don’t need to”, and Twilight goes “I’m pretty sure you do”, and I’m like “If you want me to feel better, shouldn’t you just ground me and make me fall asleep?”, and Twilight goes “I’m not going to force you to do anything”, and I go “Horsesh-“

And then there’s a gasp behind both of them, and Twilight and AJ both turn around, and there’s something yellow and pink behind them. Which is the point where they start talking to each other about Fluttershy and being here and what they were going to ask me, and I swear to Celestia that’s when the room starts spinning around me and I start flapping my wings to steady myself, and I feel like I just barely managed to hang onto the floor, and I close my eyes for just a second and when I open them there she is.

“Dash?” Fluttershy said. “Is there something wrong?”

So I’m pretty sure that when I meant to say “Get out”, I meant it as something tough and cool and indifferent, the way I am and always knew I was until you started distracting me and making me slow down and talk about things and other stuff I should never have been doing ever in the first place. But my eyes still feel rawer, and my cheeks feel stained with wet, so I’m pretty sure I started crying at that point and didn’t realize it.

But then she looked sad, and kind of scared, or maybe insecure, or I don’t even know. But she said that she was sorry, and that she hoped that I was okay, and then she just kind of excused herself. And it was so freaking pitying that when Twilight and AJ looked back at me, they had like, these, these sympaethic syn si sympathetic looks and it was just frustrating and everything else.

And so I faked, or maybe I didn’t fake, I don’t know, but I asked if I could just go to bed, and they actually bought it.

I pretended to fall asleep, but then I just kind of snuck out and sped over here and dropped this off and sped back. I guess I’m under castle arrest now, so I should probably be more careful about writing these. And I guess I’m starting to wonder why I should even do this.

And I guess it’s because I have to tell somepony. And I have to be mad at that somepony, because I was probably always going to be mad at the somepony that I had to tell this too, and I figured that well I might as well tell the one who apparently wanted me to talk to her but never actually wanted to talk back

unless you’re him, or something else, or however that works

So I’m gonna pretend to sleep for a bit, and then I guess I’m going to get something to eat, and then I’m going to lie and start saying bogus stuff when I need to. Because honestly and loyalty aren’t the same thing, and if I have to start lying out of my butt in order to hold things together I will.

Which is, for once in my life, something I’m not accustomed to doing. The lying, I mean. And hopefully not the other one.

Give me a bit,

-Rainbow Dash

//////////////////////////////////////////////

Rainbow Dash is a horrible liar. I don’t reckon she’s used to it, and that’s probably a good thing. It definitely makes my job here a little easier, which is trying to figure out what the hay is going on.

Granted, I don’t know who you are, but I think I’ve got a pretty good guess. I asked Twilight earlier about why she assumed it was some sort of dream that Rainbow Dash had. Turns out Twilight’s a pretty horrible liar, too, but at least she knows when to keep her craw shut about things. Though it’s obviously not Luna – she wouldn’t have the tact to do something this circumspect – which leaves only you.

Either come clean to Rainbow Dash, or leave her alone. I know it’s high-faluting of me to say this, getting all uppity in my position, but you’re letting her drive herself sick. I suppose I should thank you for bein’ a shoulder for Dash to cry on, particularly a shoulder I didn’t know she needed. But she’s driving herself sleepless and sick over this. And she can tell me all she wants about snoozing – I don’t buy that guff one single smidgeon.

I also know that whatever it is she needs to say, she’s obviously not telling you or anypony else. Which means there’s nothing that she can do by herself, or she’d have dealt with it a long time ago. An’ she ain’t gon’ turn to us, ‘cause she knows us too well and doesn’t want us to hate her for…whatever it is.

She’s all but family to us, now. ‘Least to me, anyway. I couldn’t hate her no matter what she did – not just “almost nothin’ “, but nothin’. I just wish she’d learn that. An’ I wish she’d know that ain’t any of us gon’ to seriously judge her for whatever it is that happened.

My writing’s getting’ a bit thick. Sorry. Ah think I’ll just be leaving this as-is.

-Applejack

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I’ve had my suspicious about this sort of thing, but I’m more than afraid to believe that they have become true. I’m referring to that particular brand of extroversion that seems absolutely, insatiably relentless in energy and direction. I, of course, believe that it is certainly possible for any given pony to possess high energy and to seek the company of others, among other traits associated with extroversion. However, I am less inclined to believe that any given individual would be monomaniacal enough to never once consider solace or introspection.

Case A: Pinkie Pie. I believe that you have read my other letters about her, and have talked with me about her peculiar behavior. Then again, I don’t believe that is any particularly big secret that her behavior trends toward irrational and severely despondent (and possibly depressive) when lacking the approval and affection of others, characteristic of chronic generalized codependency.

But I believe Rainbow Dash might fall under a different case, case B: one who uses behavior characteristic of highly extroverted individuals as a diversion. It has not been difficult, as previously demonstrated, to get Rainbow Dash involved in “slower” and less intensely focused activities (such as her rapidly-flourishing love of reading) and attentions (such as the caretaking of her pet, which is demonstrably intimate and caring). But even in these, too, has she shown a particular tendency to throw herself overzealously into her work. I recognize that this singular focus is a trait that I happen to possess, but her interest seems less analytical and more… perhaps “desperate” may be the best word that I have for it, though it is a poor lexographical substitute for what I might have otherwise been able to trawl from my mind.

Regardless, I do not think it would be disingenuous to say that Rainbow Dash WANTS to be fully engaged in her activities, more than automatically slipping into a state of engagement. However, I believe that her attachment to the bearers of the elements of harmony, “us”, is not feigned and similarly “desperate”. She seeks affection and approval, much as Pinkie Pie does, but believes that the medium through which she desires to be lauded is not her actual personality, but her accomplishments. This is even more dangerous... She does not recognize a fundamental need, and more importantly, this is enabling her self-destructive attachment stemming from, what I believe, is very likely to be undisclosed personal trauma.

Certainly, I would be willing to discuss the issue with her, would she be willing to listen. But she is not. Perhaps she has communicated with you, via her letters, the source of her discomfort? If so, that needs immediate disclosure. I believe that if this is the case, she is being “consumed by these memories” (to phrase it unnecessarily poetically, for lack of a better phrase of conveyance), out of a desire to achieve catharsis and develop a deeper emotional bond with one who I have flat-out said is in love with her.

I do not believe these missives are safe. Applejack has grown suspicious of my lack of disclosure about who you are, as I have respected your wish to keep your identity concealed. Since I have not expressly forbidden her from doing so (a request that slipped my mind during our last meeting), however, I believe that she might be watching me, and recover this letter, confirm the recipient, and tell it to Rainbow Dash. But this is beginning to grow unsafe – my communication, and Rainbow Dash’s mental state.

Do something. Say something. Anything. Tell her the truth. Show yourself. I can’t force you to do it, and I won’t go against your wishes, but I’m begging you – please make the necessary leap and actually initiate contact with her.

Regards,

-Twilight Sparkle

/////////////////////////////////////////////

44

Twilight says that she never noticed me, or anypony else, by the tree. Neither did Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy or Pinkie Pie. But I’m absolutely sure that I don’t remember crawling into bed.

I’m writing this from beneath my covers, because I don’t want to get up. I’m tired in just about every part of me that can be tired, but I’m going to remain awake for long enough to finish this.

You.

Had to have been you. Found me beneath the tree, didn’t you? Because that’s the last place I remember being. Carried me back here, must have.

Because the bed still kind of smells a bit like vanilla. Which is not what any of us smells like, and which is not any sort of cleaning product that I know. And I know more than you think I do, because rarity keeps a freaking cocktail bar’s worth of sanitizers in carousel boutique, and she always has to keep the place to whatever her insane definition of “clean” is.

I’m not sure what to make of this.

I’m not sure that I have anything left to say to you. Or anything that I want to say to you. Or anything left to say at all, by this point.

…You smell like vanilla.

I like that scent. Warm. Happy. It smells like sugarcube corner, whenever the cakes or pinkie are baking. I mean, it always smells good over there – I could count, like, ten different smells and ten different reasons why they smell good – but vanilla’s kind of special.

Pinkie told me about this when we were making that ridiculously oversized batch of cupcakes earlier. You add a little bit of vanilla to almost everything – even things that aren’t strictly speaking vanilla recipes. Could be chocolate, could be carrot cake, could be…I don’t know. And even though it doesn’t taste good and doesn’t have the flavor, I guess, that everypony expects – it’s still a happy smell, a smell that tells you what you’re going to have is delicious.

The scent doesn’t blast itself out in every recipe it’s used, but it adds an undercurrent. What word would Twilight use for this?

Demure?

Maybe? Something like that?

Even so – it fades into the background, but it’s warm and happy all the same.

And if you’re silently accepting and welcoming everything I have to say without feeling the need to project yourself, I guess that it fits you.

Thank you for putting me to bed, vanilla.

I’m feeling tired. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.

G’night,

-Rainbow Dash

////////////////////////////////////////////

45

The weather’s somewhat cloudy today, but it’s supposed to hold out for at least a couple of days.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, it’s kind of a long story.

Let’s start back from the point on the last letter. I got back to sleep right after I wrote your letter – not that my body was going to let me have any choice in the matter. I’m going to guess it was more like three…four hours, tops? But it actually felt good.

And I didn’t dream. The dream didn’t recur. If it was something I needed to say, then I guess I said it.

So here I am, relaxed, refreshed, ready to finish up the rest of the day. So I step outside my door and I hear this incredibly loud horn going off. Like, just BWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH – right in my ears.

Magic, of all things. Twilight decided to cast some kind of alarm spell. Jerk.

Not that I was trying to sneak outside or anything like that, but I couldn’t even get down a hallway before everypony was crowding around me. And you know, I was half-expecting some kind of game or some kind of joke, except that everypony looked completely dead serious.

Twilight starts up first. We’ve been worried sick about you, she says. You’ve looked tired a lot of the time, she says. You’ve hardly talked to anypony, she says. You haven’t been yourself, she says.

Okay, irony: that was the very first thing I was worried about, right? Not being myself as I grew older? So she’s exaggerating, I told her

Then Applejack gives me this look. And it’s one of those don’t-make-me-choose-between-honoring-your-wishes-and-keeping-this-friendship-together-because-you’re-not-going-to-like-my-choice looks.

So what am I supposed to do? I tell them that I’ve had to think about things. Technically true. The expressions on their faces suggested they weren’t buying it.

What am I supposed to say, is what I tell them. What could I say that would actually make them be happy and leave me alone about this.

The truth, is what Twilight Sparkle says.

So I give it to her.

I tell her that there are parts of my life that I don’t feel comfortable with sharing. I tell her that, heck, I doubt any of you were saints when you were fillies, either. I tell her that I’ve started thinking about that when I started writing again, and I’ve been finding it harder and harder to stop thinking about it. I tell her that I’m trying to reconcile myself with myself for the sake of a secret admirer, if nothing else, because I’ve been trying really, really hard to be a better Pegasus, and when I stopped flying long enough to gather my thoughts I realized I haven’t been trying nearly hard enough.

And then Applejack asks me if I want to talk about it. And I tell her no.

And then Rarity asks why. And I tell her no.

And then Pinkie starts to say something, but I tell her no.

And then Twilight says okay.

Which I guess was the answer that she had given me earlier, but it still took me by surprise today. I was half expecting her to try and tell me that there would be no more secrets and no more lies, and everything was going to fall apart, because there was no way that they were going to know anything.

But okay, is what she says. If you can’t tell everypony, she says, you can tell one. It’s not healthy to keep whatever it is inside of you, she says. Somepony should know, she says. It doesn’t have to be now, she says. It could be much later, she says.

And why, is what I say.

Because doesn’t it hurt, she says. Keeping it in, is what she means.

I can’t stop myself from thinking “every time”.

But okay is what I say. Who, is what I ask. And she doesn’t say anything. But I think that’s okay, because she knows the answer and I know the answer and trying to pretend that neither of us knows is more than a bit silly.

This will be my last letter.

You’re brave enough to pick up my letters, much less carry me to bed when I was flat-out unconscious. I’ve been brave enough to, day after day, drop these dutiful little slips of memory fragments and partial confessions for you.

We’re both ready, aren’t we? All we need is a little nudge. And if we don’t start talking to each other – I mean, ACTUALLY start talking to each other – then we’re never going to find out if we could actually be friends or…

…you know.

Tomorrow. Noon. Same place as always. I’ll wait as long as I feel like, and if you’re not there for me, then…

…have a nice life, I guess.

But one way or another, I need to start moving on.

-Rainbow Dash