Equestria Girls is not mine, nor are the characters in this letter's content.

Dear Principal Cinch,

You are doing well, I presume. I won’t ask, because you probably don’t care. But that’s okay. Do you know how much you hurt me? How much every day weighed upon my shoulders like a ton of rocks? Of course not. You don’t care about your students at all, do you?

To you, it’s all about winning. The perfect record, the perfect track. You’re willing to throw people under the bus, aren’t you? I wonder why. You can see the hurt, or are you just that blind? You’re a smart woman Cinch, we both know you aren’t blind.

So then… what causes your lack of remorse? Surely you aren’t a sociopath. What lull is there? Such a powerful lull, a lust most certainly, of power? Is it being better? What calls to you so irresistibly and lustily that you’d give or do anything for it?

It seems to me that for the sake of winning, you see the school as your stage, we the marionettes, and you the puppeteer. You’re willing to manipulate us either through lying, cheating, and… blackmail.

It… hurt a lot you know. My mind screamed at itself, torn and at war with you goading on both sides. Should I accept the blackmail? Should I fight it? But then… I’d lose my chance! Alas, if I fell into the blackmail… I’d be so mad at myself for allowing it!

Decision and indecision, the brink of frustration with one self and one’s circumstances, a heavy (albeit oddly tickling) weight, a sensation slipping down my throat and spreading with viscosity like honey through my chest. And yet, it was unlike honey, because it was like a ticklish poison.

I would compare it to a vinegar most thick. A sour, foul feeling slowly advancing throughout my chest, and through my body, seeding my pores with self-doubt and loathing. The weight of being unable to decide is a heavy burden to bear, Abacus.

It’s odd, I thought I’d cry from frustration. Yet, no tears came, leaving my eyes as dry and my tear ducts like a desert. (I suppose I’d still have eye lubricant, as tears need to moisten your eyes, but otherwise, nothing.) Once again the feeling tightened and boiled in my chest, I wonder if one can explode from a bottled up emotion? (Doubtfully.)

Yes, I did address you previously as Abacus, Cinch. I feel you do not deserve my respect, and therefore I shall call you Abacus. Well… at least in this letter, as I doubt you’d ever see or read it. Your name is quite the irony, an abacus is a counting device and you a principal…

Yet… you can’t seem to count your eggs after they hatch, as you always count us previously. There’s a problem with that. You can threaten an egg to hatch, but sometimes? It. Just. Won’t. Work. Can’t you see there’s more than us winning?

I knew you were harsh Abacus, but I always thought you cared, albeit in a strict manner. Apparently, you don’t give half a… half… half a crap! There, I wrote it. You care naught for your students, and their hurt is of no concern to you.

And yes, I indeed include emotional, as sticks and stones break bones, but words hurt elsewhere. Yes, mine, or any other victim of verbal attacks and abuse bear no physical wounds or scars, but it is inside for us.

A person can only take so much before their self-esteem snaps, and becomes a mere shell of itself. A person can only take so much before the start to doubt themselves and even hate themselves. One can only take so much… before they cut themselves off in a hard shell (I always visualized a closed cloyster shell.)

I have trust issues these days Abacus, your school ingrained it into me. (How sad.) How could I trust anybody? I never knew whether they were simply faking or just going to hurt me the second I even lowered my shields a notch. Don’t you agree seclusion is safer, and better for studying?

You allow- no encourage bullying. After all, you yourself are the grandest bully of all. You see the hurt, you allow the hurt, you push for the hurt. Why do you do it? I think it’s because you want people, especially those with high intelligence under your thumb.

If an intellectual person, or anybody who seems to be of priority value to you, has nobody to turn to, as they seem to be a shunned pariah, when better than to swoop in like a bat, and snatch them in your talons, they being caught and discovering your web of lies far too late?

You, Ms. Abacus Cinch, are a condescending, manipulative, twat. I could say worse but it is certainly beneath me, as I am a decent and respectful person, even when you deserve none. Would you like to know?

It’s funny, judging by reading this letter, you’d think I was furious at you. I’m not. I feel empty right now, though the emotions attempting to push themselves out are sadness and regret. I currently am simply stating the cold, hard facts.

As a school leader, you should take care of us, not use us for personal gain. That behavior disgusts me, almost as much as it hurts to think about. You need to learn, Abacus, learn truly what people need and feel.

If I made you obey my every whim and command, and threatened you if you didn’t do as I asked demanded, or perhaps I’d guilt trip you, or threaten you (all of which, you’ve done) would you take it? Would you sit there, and silently suffer?

I seriously doubt it. I think if I did it to you, you would scream and cry, and threaten me with obscenities. Guess what? We, your victims did too. Alas, we could never vocalize, because of the dark cloud overhanging us, shadowing our every move, creating our only safe haven, the mind.

People are awful, but manipulators are a worse kind of bad in my book. They just hurt so much, and create a despairing emptiness within us. I despaired and cried and within myself, because to show weakness, was to give opportunity. I couldn’t afford to do that.

Thus, as I finish this letter which has rend my heart, perhaps mortally so, (I doubt it, as all scars will heal enough someday), I shall use your full name one last time. I wish to not think of you any longer, except perhaps skimmingly, because you only open the wound further, and stretch it in hopes of forcing an infection, which I intend to deny you.

Principal Abacus Cinch, you have been judged and weighed, and you have been found wanting. I hope you reconsider, because though you are late in years, it is not too late to turn yourself around. I think if you lost focus on winning, but kept the drive and cared about us, you could be a great person. But alas, it is not I who can insinuate the change, nor will you likely read this letter.

A Hurt and Betrayed Student,

-Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Well... that felt good to write. Really good to write. Hopefully, I didn't include prose that was too purple, it is Twilight writing a letter after all.

Alright, so except for some events from the movie (such as the blackmail) this was taken from my own life experiences, from the writing prompt, to the 5th grade psychiatry issue. You know, I think Sci-Twi has had many more problems than real Twilight (compare to Moondancer), and I think it'd be interesting for them to meet. (Not just a cameo) Anybody who has ever been hurt or bullied, it isn't your fault, okay? Remember that, it's not you. You ARE the good guy.

Hope you enjoyed the short 2 shot.