Cutie, Cheesy Problemsby BrieChaptersIt All Started By Never Starting: A Sister's Feelings Towards Her BrotherThe History of A Cheesy Cutie MarkAn Uncertain FutureIt All Started By Never Starting: A Sister's Feelings Towards Her BrotherDear Diary, My name is Brie Cheese, and I have a problem. No, no, that's not right. I'm sorry, sometimes I don't quite get my thoughts down correctly. I've never kept a personal journal before until now, yet, ironically, I've had you for years. Heck, even the light scent of various cheeses still stick to the pages, yet at the same time, there really isn't any cheese on the pages to begin with: I've simply been around too much cheese and was too concerned with other things at the time to write anything in you. I still remember the day that Cheese Sandwich gave you to me as a birthday present. Who knew that I would wait this long to finally sit down and write? Maybe I should have actually sat down and wrote about that day: telling yourself that you can remember things isn't exactly a good habit to adopt. Is there even a proper way to write in a journal? Now that I put my hoof on it, I sincerely doubt it. I remember keeping a scrapbook when I was a filly, but that was when I still had friends: no, I don't think I'm going to do that again anytime soon, but that's another story for another time. To be honest, I really just want to focus this entry on Cheese Sandwich: my brother. Yes, I said my brother, and no, neither of us were adopted: the fact that we look the same has to do with the blood that runs through our veins. However, only Cheese Sandwich got the green eyes: I was only lucky enough to get the honey streak in my mane. I could care less what other ponies think about it (since I've obtained a few jabs here and there on the account that it's a small resemblance to Her Majesty Princess Twilight), but I still like my streaks nonetheless, despite only showing on my left side. Another confession that I believe that it's time to make is that I still have uncertain feelings about my brother. Do not misunderstand: I love my brother very much, and I'm happy about his success, but there are just some things that bother me, and some regrets I carry as his elder sister. It hurts time and time again, and I'm not sure if Cheese Sandwich had ever told anypony, but I helped him escape from Manehattan. The details about our mother and father are for a later entry, but the point right now is that if I didn't help him escape, he wouldn't have become the super-duper party-pony I had a feeling from the very beginning that I just knew he would be. It didn't matter if he was awfully shy: he and I had our parties together (or acted like we were) when we were little fillies. The only reason why our parents never suspected his leave involving me had to do with the fact that I was out during his escape. I only regret that our friendship as brother and sister was so unsteady when he left. I don't care if he made a promise to me: I'm two years older than him, and sometimes I question my maturity level just because I agreed to help my little brother get away. Yes everypony: I have my regrets. I wasn't even thinking about the idea of losing my brother so soon: it was supposed to have been another day at Manehattan. I was old enough to finally begin running errands for my parents while they were busy doing other things. Funny, I took that day for granted before I saw my brother with red, white-spotted cloth tied onto his small back. I demanded to know what he was doing and what the hay was the big deal with his small pack. When it reached my ears from his own lips that he was running away, I wanted to know why. I knew fillies were crazy about getting their cutie marks, but nowhere near as crazy as my brother. Sure, it wasn't the only reason why he ran off, but the reason that shocked me the most was his discomfort at home. Given how mom and dad were acting, it was too much for him, even with what little support I could give him at the time. I begged for him to stay in Manehattan, at least until I was old enough to move out, but he downright refused: never before had I seen my little brother so determined. One reason after another, I tried to get him to see that it would be safer, and happier, if he stayed a while longer, but exactly where he got his logic that even won me over still remains anonymous to this day. If he was leaving on his own, what was my contribution to the whole affair? Well, remember when I said that I was shopping? Every gold bit that I had in my pocket at the time, even the few bits that I had saved to get my brother and myself something nice was all poured into my brother's pack. Even until today, I'm not sure why I had agreed to do it, but its almost as if I didn't have a choice in the matter. Yes, I gave him the money. Yes, I saw him off, and yes, I even made a tragic cover story how some thugs got a hold of every bit that I had while shopping around town. Heck, for the first time that I could remember, I lied to the face of my parents about how I didn't see Cheese Sandwich that day. The pain of lying to my parents physically and psychologically wounded me, but like I said: it's not like I had a choice in the matter. That was the first time I ever prayed to Celestia for being a foolish mare. Why did I do it, even though it was painfully obvious that he was so small and I should have ran away with him? To be honest, I didn't know, and for the record, I still don't know. The only thing that I did know was the fact that I felt like I wasn't thinking, and I told myself that I wouldn't make the same mistake again. I don't care if other ponies think that I over-think things too much: they don't understand the logic of my madness, and to be honest, I don't expect them to: because I was unable to help Cheese Sandwich smile all the time on my own, I wouldn't be surprised if he felt compelled to leave to find his own smiles. Everyone knows now that everything turned out just fine. However, what they don't know is the fact that he is still my brother, and our friendship (if we even have that) is physically, psychologically, and all-dimensionally broken. There's two reasons why I felt like I had to say something about all of this: one, today is Cheese Sandwich's birthday, and since I can't be there with him right now, I feel this moral guilt that has haunted once a year every year since he ran off. Second, for the first time in a long time, I had received any invitation from my baby brother himself to come down to Ponyville for a reason that he wouldn't say over a letter. Exactly why he wouldn't say what it was, I'm not sure, but if this is an element of surprise, it's not helping: he's well aware that by the time I come down there, his birthday would have long since past. I want to confront him, but what in all of Equestria should I say to him? Yell at him? Tell him how much I've missed him over the years? Should I confess how I had longed for a childhood with my little brother that I never had? More importantly, how come he isn't mad at me? Does he know in his gut that I'm still mixed about all of this? No, maybe I should go see him: that would solve one of my problems, and one of the aching pains in my heart. Sincerely, and with many thanks, Brie Cheese of Manehattan The History of A Cheesy Cutie MarkDear Diary, After finally mustering up the strength to do so, I had asked permission from my parents to travel to Ponyville. In all honesty, I'm very glad that they didn't ask why, but sent me off with a wallet full of bits and the casual blessing before departure. I wouldn't be surprised if they knew about Cheese Sandwich's current location, but then again, I wouldn't be overly surprised if they thought that this had to do with my quest towards my cutie mark. Don't get me wrong: I already have my cutie mark, but even until now, there are parts about it that are still vague. Until I can figure out more, I hold a job in the family business: making cheeses primarily for the higher class ponies. We make our living off of the profits primarily from Canterlot, but we do get business from other places. Baby Belle, my sophisticated cousin, seems to understand the ways of Canterlot, and thus keeps business there afloat very well. I remember admitting to her once about how I thought there was something so rarity about her, and she just laughed, talking about how she met a unicorn whom had the same name as I described her. Exactly why I still remember that remains oblivious to me. One of the only things in life that is almost as weird as Baby Belle is the history of my cutie mark. I wasn't sure if I wanted to write about it, but seeing as how I have a long trip before actually reaching Ponyville, I figured I might as well write about it since I consider it to be very important to me. Odd: I don't think Cheese Sandwich knows about my cutie mark, seeing as how he left before I got mine. Yes, dare I say, I was a very late bloomer, and to think: it all started with a party. Princess Celestia had given Manehatttan the pleasure of gracing us with her presence. Princess Luna, whom I found out later, was still banished in the moon, so I never had the honor of seeing her until later in time. I was only at this party because I was convinced by Baby Belle that I needed to get out. I didn't have my cutie mark at the time, and only Baby Belle's optimistic nature brought me out of my shell time and time again to go to these silly parties. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that Baby Belle reminded me of a rather unusual pink pony that I remember seeing a long time ago, but I suppose that doesn't matter. While I had the honor of seeing Princess Celestia, I never got the chance to actually talk to her: I let Baby Belle do most of the talking for both of us. I'm not sure how exactly it hit me, but the only time that I actually talked to the princess won me a curious look from my cousin. Yes, I asked the princess about her faith. What amazed me was that the closest thing she had to faith was in her magic: the whole "believing in yourself" sort of thing. Being a unicorn myself, I was partly forced to know this already. As a unicorn myself, I understand that concept, yet at the same time, I didn't understand. Baby Belle and the princess were also talking at the time, so I decided to completely drop the matter. How, then, could I have obtained my cutie mark from a silenced conversation? To tell you the truth, it wasn't really silenced: at least for me. Yes, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the more stressed I was about the affair. Believing in yourself ever since you were born was almost god-like, and there was no way I could acknowledge within myself that Princess Celestia was a god in any form of manner. After all, if Princess Celestia was a god, you would think that she would have been able to prevent the turn of events concerning Princess Luna. Perhaps not so many would have forgotten her royal name instead of being reminded of her alternative name: Nightmare Moon. I even remember asking my fellow classmates during school about what they knew about Princess Luna: the most common thing I heard was Nightmare Moon, and only a few pointed out to the Canterlot archives, and only until now did I have the approval of my parents to go often on the account of my cutie mark, since they agreed that I couldn't be denied my destiny. It was this thought about trying to find what started it concerning faith and hope (heck, maybe even the origins of magic itself!) all that burned into a desire I still hadn't been able to wipe out. This fire, this burning flame, won me my cutie mark. I do admit that from time to time I have been discouraged from my work, but something was always there to bring about a comeback and encourage me that I didn't get his mark on my flank for nothing. True, I still work within the cheese industry with my relatives, as long as I have time to be left to my books, I suppose there is an agreement between myself and my family. Most ponies do not understand how I can be content with my destiny, but then again, it's not like I always understand their contentment with their destiny, such as the unusual destiny of my brother. If our names were not the names of cheeses, and if we didn't carry a coat color that was awfully similar, perhaps no one would have known that he and I were related, let alone that I was elder one. Thinking about my brother again might bring me tears tonight: I'm not sure if I can face him, but I know that I have to. Oh, what a long night! Sincerely, Brie Cheese of Manehattan An Uncertain FutureDear Diary, I'm not sure if I'm going to write in you again for a long time. From what I understand, Ponyville isn't too far away now. Who knows, I might actually get there tonight. Looking at the invitation again, I have made another mental note to consult the one Cheese Sandwich told me in another note to seek out once I reached Ponyville. I'm not sure yet if it's the same pony, but do you remember when I mentioned how Baby Belle reminded me of a pink pony I remember seeing once? Yes, I believe I might see her again: there is a small window that Pinkie Pie wouldn't be pink. To be honest, I have never seen Ponyville for myself before, but I am counting on the simplicity of the town in relation to Manehattan and Canterlot. Perhaps all of the open air and the country will do me good since all I have known was the city. I have had the pleasure of hearing many times about the reputation of Ponyville, but never had the honor of actually visiting this sector of Equestria until now. I have also seen pictures of this location, but always had this notion that it was not the same as actually being there. Well, this particular event was special, so why not make a memory? I'm worried of making a bad memory. I am concerned that when I actually see my brother face to face for the first time in almost forever, I will say something stupid, or maybe do something stupid. So many emotions are boiling on the inside of me that I'm not even sure if I'll get my feelings across to him without screwing up or letting them out in a manner that my brother wouldn't understand. After all, he's not only my brother that I haven't seen in a long time, but also my only brother. The idea that I can't do what I'm supposed to as a sister only accumulates the tears that haven't fallen from my face yet. Will I yell at him on the account of my anger? Most likely. Will I weep and cry my eyes out knowing that I have seen with the same eyes that he is alright? Most likely. Will I regret knowing that my introduction to him will more than likely be a burst of negative feelings? Most likely. No, it isn't most likely, but most definitely. I know that I will yell in at least some manner (even if he doesn't understand) and demand his motives, cry my eyes out knowing that he is okay, and later regret that after so long, I approached him this way. Then again, there is always that stupid hope running through my veins that Cheese Sandwich would understand, or he wouldn't have sent the invitation. Everything is so uncertain, and I haven't felt this way in a long time. For the record, I think I've grown to distaste uncertainty, and perhaps is a great weakness of mine. Normally, I would be able to figure out where to solve my questions, and I think I know the answer, but maybe I do not feel comfortable with the idea of what my answer would be. The closer I come to Ponyville, the harder it is for me to breath without some mixture of so many feelings making my hooves shakey and my chest tighten to a point where I'm unsure of my current breathing state. To all that is holy: please help me confront my brother, I hope he understands despite the outburst that is sure to come. I lost my brother once, and I don't want to lose him again, especially if the blood is on my hooves. I may have uncertain feelings, but one thing is certain: I'm really tired of not facing them. Sincerely, Brie Cheese of Manehattan P.S. The sun looks exceptionally beautiful this morning, but that wasn't the only reason why I couldn't sleep.
It All Started By Never Starting: A Sister's Feelings Towards Her BrotherDear Diary, My name is Brie Cheese, and I have a problem. No, no, that's not right. I'm sorry, sometimes I don't quite get my thoughts down correctly. I've never kept a personal journal before until now, yet, ironically, I've had you for years. Heck, even the light scent of various cheeses still stick to the pages, yet at the same time, there really isn't any cheese on the pages to begin with: I've simply been around too much cheese and was too concerned with other things at the time to write anything in you. I still remember the day that Cheese Sandwich gave you to me as a birthday present. Who knew that I would wait this long to finally sit down and write? Maybe I should have actually sat down and wrote about that day: telling yourself that you can remember things isn't exactly a good habit to adopt. Is there even a proper way to write in a journal? Now that I put my hoof on it, I sincerely doubt it. I remember keeping a scrapbook when I was a filly, but that was when I still had friends: no, I don't think I'm going to do that again anytime soon, but that's another story for another time. To be honest, I really just want to focus this entry on Cheese Sandwich: my brother. Yes, I said my brother, and no, neither of us were adopted: the fact that we look the same has to do with the blood that runs through our veins. However, only Cheese Sandwich got the green eyes: I was only lucky enough to get the honey streak in my mane. I could care less what other ponies think about it (since I've obtained a few jabs here and there on the account that it's a small resemblance to Her Majesty Princess Twilight), but I still like my streaks nonetheless, despite only showing on my left side. Another confession that I believe that it's time to make is that I still have uncertain feelings about my brother. Do not misunderstand: I love my brother very much, and I'm happy about his success, but there are just some things that bother me, and some regrets I carry as his elder sister. It hurts time and time again, and I'm not sure if Cheese Sandwich had ever told anypony, but I helped him escape from Manehattan. The details about our mother and father are for a later entry, but the point right now is that if I didn't help him escape, he wouldn't have become the super-duper party-pony I had a feeling from the very beginning that I just knew he would be. It didn't matter if he was awfully shy: he and I had our parties together (or acted like we were) when we were little fillies. The only reason why our parents never suspected his leave involving me had to do with the fact that I was out during his escape. I only regret that our friendship as brother and sister was so unsteady when he left. I don't care if he made a promise to me: I'm two years older than him, and sometimes I question my maturity level just because I agreed to help my little brother get away. Yes everypony: I have my regrets. I wasn't even thinking about the idea of losing my brother so soon: it was supposed to have been another day at Manehattan. I was old enough to finally begin running errands for my parents while they were busy doing other things. Funny, I took that day for granted before I saw my brother with red, white-spotted cloth tied onto his small back. I demanded to know what he was doing and what the hay was the big deal with his small pack. When it reached my ears from his own lips that he was running away, I wanted to know why. I knew fillies were crazy about getting their cutie marks, but nowhere near as crazy as my brother. Sure, it wasn't the only reason why he ran off, but the reason that shocked me the most was his discomfort at home. Given how mom and dad were acting, it was too much for him, even with what little support I could give him at the time. I begged for him to stay in Manehattan, at least until I was old enough to move out, but he downright refused: never before had I seen my little brother so determined. One reason after another, I tried to get him to see that it would be safer, and happier, if he stayed a while longer, but exactly where he got his logic that even won me over still remains anonymous to this day. If he was leaving on his own, what was my contribution to the whole affair? Well, remember when I said that I was shopping? Every gold bit that I had in my pocket at the time, even the few bits that I had saved to get my brother and myself something nice was all poured into my brother's pack. Even until today, I'm not sure why I had agreed to do it, but its almost as if I didn't have a choice in the matter. Yes, I gave him the money. Yes, I saw him off, and yes, I even made a tragic cover story how some thugs got a hold of every bit that I had while shopping around town. Heck, for the first time that I could remember, I lied to the face of my parents about how I didn't see Cheese Sandwich that day. The pain of lying to my parents physically and psychologically wounded me, but like I said: it's not like I had a choice in the matter. That was the first time I ever prayed to Celestia for being a foolish mare. Why did I do it, even though it was painfully obvious that he was so small and I should have ran away with him? To be honest, I didn't know, and for the record, I still don't know. The only thing that I did know was the fact that I felt like I wasn't thinking, and I told myself that I wouldn't make the same mistake again. I don't care if other ponies think that I over-think things too much: they don't understand the logic of my madness, and to be honest, I don't expect them to: because I was unable to help Cheese Sandwich smile all the time on my own, I wouldn't be surprised if he felt compelled to leave to find his own smiles. Everyone knows now that everything turned out just fine. However, what they don't know is the fact that he is still my brother, and our friendship (if we even have that) is physically, psychologically, and all-dimensionally broken. There's two reasons why I felt like I had to say something about all of this: one, today is Cheese Sandwich's birthday, and since I can't be there with him right now, I feel this moral guilt that has haunted once a year every year since he ran off. Second, for the first time in a long time, I had received any invitation from my baby brother himself to come down to Ponyville for a reason that he wouldn't say over a letter. Exactly why he wouldn't say what it was, I'm not sure, but if this is an element of surprise, it's not helping: he's well aware that by the time I come down there, his birthday would have long since past. I want to confront him, but what in all of Equestria should I say to him? Yell at him? Tell him how much I've missed him over the years? Should I confess how I had longed for a childhood with my little brother that I never had? More importantly, how come he isn't mad at me? Does he know in his gut that I'm still mixed about all of this? No, maybe I should go see him: that would solve one of my problems, and one of the aching pains in my heart. Sincerely, and with many thanks, Brie Cheese of Manehattan
The History of A Cheesy Cutie MarkDear Diary, After finally mustering up the strength to do so, I had asked permission from my parents to travel to Ponyville. In all honesty, I'm very glad that they didn't ask why, but sent me off with a wallet full of bits and the casual blessing before departure. I wouldn't be surprised if they knew about Cheese Sandwich's current location, but then again, I wouldn't be overly surprised if they thought that this had to do with my quest towards my cutie mark. Don't get me wrong: I already have my cutie mark, but even until now, there are parts about it that are still vague. Until I can figure out more, I hold a job in the family business: making cheeses primarily for the higher class ponies. We make our living off of the profits primarily from Canterlot, but we do get business from other places. Baby Belle, my sophisticated cousin, seems to understand the ways of Canterlot, and thus keeps business there afloat very well. I remember admitting to her once about how I thought there was something so rarity about her, and she just laughed, talking about how she met a unicorn whom had the same name as I described her. Exactly why I still remember that remains oblivious to me. One of the only things in life that is almost as weird as Baby Belle is the history of my cutie mark. I wasn't sure if I wanted to write about it, but seeing as how I have a long trip before actually reaching Ponyville, I figured I might as well write about it since I consider it to be very important to me. Odd: I don't think Cheese Sandwich knows about my cutie mark, seeing as how he left before I got mine. Yes, dare I say, I was a very late bloomer, and to think: it all started with a party. Princess Celestia had given Manehatttan the pleasure of gracing us with her presence. Princess Luna, whom I found out later, was still banished in the moon, so I never had the honor of seeing her until later in time. I was only at this party because I was convinced by Baby Belle that I needed to get out. I didn't have my cutie mark at the time, and only Baby Belle's optimistic nature brought me out of my shell time and time again to go to these silly parties. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that Baby Belle reminded me of a rather unusual pink pony that I remember seeing a long time ago, but I suppose that doesn't matter. While I had the honor of seeing Princess Celestia, I never got the chance to actually talk to her: I let Baby Belle do most of the talking for both of us. I'm not sure how exactly it hit me, but the only time that I actually talked to the princess won me a curious look from my cousin. Yes, I asked the princess about her faith. What amazed me was that the closest thing she had to faith was in her magic: the whole "believing in yourself" sort of thing. Being a unicorn myself, I was partly forced to know this already. As a unicorn myself, I understand that concept, yet at the same time, I didn't understand. Baby Belle and the princess were also talking at the time, so I decided to completely drop the matter. How, then, could I have obtained my cutie mark from a silenced conversation? To tell you the truth, it wasn't really silenced: at least for me. Yes, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the more stressed I was about the affair. Believing in yourself ever since you were born was almost god-like, and there was no way I could acknowledge within myself that Princess Celestia was a god in any form of manner. After all, if Princess Celestia was a god, you would think that she would have been able to prevent the turn of events concerning Princess Luna. Perhaps not so many would have forgotten her royal name instead of being reminded of her alternative name: Nightmare Moon. I even remember asking my fellow classmates during school about what they knew about Princess Luna: the most common thing I heard was Nightmare Moon, and only a few pointed out to the Canterlot archives, and only until now did I have the approval of my parents to go often on the account of my cutie mark, since they agreed that I couldn't be denied my destiny. It was this thought about trying to find what started it concerning faith and hope (heck, maybe even the origins of magic itself!) all that burned into a desire I still hadn't been able to wipe out. This fire, this burning flame, won me my cutie mark. I do admit that from time to time I have been discouraged from my work, but something was always there to bring about a comeback and encourage me that I didn't get his mark on my flank for nothing. True, I still work within the cheese industry with my relatives, as long as I have time to be left to my books, I suppose there is an agreement between myself and my family. Most ponies do not understand how I can be content with my destiny, but then again, it's not like I always understand their contentment with their destiny, such as the unusual destiny of my brother. If our names were not the names of cheeses, and if we didn't carry a coat color that was awfully similar, perhaps no one would have known that he and I were related, let alone that I was elder one. Thinking about my brother again might bring me tears tonight: I'm not sure if I can face him, but I know that I have to. Oh, what a long night! Sincerely, Brie Cheese of Manehattan
An Uncertain FutureDear Diary, I'm not sure if I'm going to write in you again for a long time. From what I understand, Ponyville isn't too far away now. Who knows, I might actually get there tonight. Looking at the invitation again, I have made another mental note to consult the one Cheese Sandwich told me in another note to seek out once I reached Ponyville. I'm not sure yet if it's the same pony, but do you remember when I mentioned how Baby Belle reminded me of a pink pony I remember seeing once? Yes, I believe I might see her again: there is a small window that Pinkie Pie wouldn't be pink. To be honest, I have never seen Ponyville for myself before, but I am counting on the simplicity of the town in relation to Manehattan and Canterlot. Perhaps all of the open air and the country will do me good since all I have known was the city. I have had the pleasure of hearing many times about the reputation of Ponyville, but never had the honor of actually visiting this sector of Equestria until now. I have also seen pictures of this location, but always had this notion that it was not the same as actually being there. Well, this particular event was special, so why not make a memory? I'm worried of making a bad memory. I am concerned that when I actually see my brother face to face for the first time in almost forever, I will say something stupid, or maybe do something stupid. So many emotions are boiling on the inside of me that I'm not even sure if I'll get my feelings across to him without screwing up or letting them out in a manner that my brother wouldn't understand. After all, he's not only my brother that I haven't seen in a long time, but also my only brother. The idea that I can't do what I'm supposed to as a sister only accumulates the tears that haven't fallen from my face yet. Will I yell at him on the account of my anger? Most likely. Will I weep and cry my eyes out knowing that I have seen with the same eyes that he is alright? Most likely. Will I regret knowing that my introduction to him will more than likely be a burst of negative feelings? Most likely. No, it isn't most likely, but most definitely. I know that I will yell in at least some manner (even if he doesn't understand) and demand his motives, cry my eyes out knowing that he is okay, and later regret that after so long, I approached him this way. Then again, there is always that stupid hope running through my veins that Cheese Sandwich would understand, or he wouldn't have sent the invitation. Everything is so uncertain, and I haven't felt this way in a long time. For the record, I think I've grown to distaste uncertainty, and perhaps is a great weakness of mine. Normally, I would be able to figure out where to solve my questions, and I think I know the answer, but maybe I do not feel comfortable with the idea of what my answer would be. The closer I come to Ponyville, the harder it is for me to breath without some mixture of so many feelings making my hooves shakey and my chest tighten to a point where I'm unsure of my current breathing state. To all that is holy: please help me confront my brother, I hope he understands despite the outburst that is sure to come. I lost my brother once, and I don't want to lose him again, especially if the blood is on my hooves. I may have uncertain feelings, but one thing is certain: I'm really tired of not facing them. Sincerely, Brie Cheese of Manehattan P.S. The sun looks exceptionally beautiful this morning, but that wasn't the only reason why I couldn't sleep.
