Oh Rarity…
I find it so difficult to express my thoughts into feelings. Every time I see you trotting around Ponyville my heart skips a beat. I feel as if the very fabric of time has slowed down. I know that it is rude to stare but I just can’t help myself. From your purple mane to your snow-white coat; you are the definition of perfection.
Do you know what you do to me? Do you not understand how you keep me up in the middle of the night? I lay there in my bed staring at the ceiling while imagining your warm body cuddled up against mine. I imagine how it must feel to have your heart beating against my chest as I keep you safe and sound. I shall allow not a single moment of pain or suffering to enter your life. I will protect you from all that dares threaten.
This is my solemn vow.
I noticed you in town today. You were in the company of, what’s-her-name?
Fluttershy.
You were with Fluttershy. I have never had a chance to talk to Fluttershy but I have seen her around. As pretty as Fluttershy is, I cannot overlook how timid she is. How frustrating it must be for you to endure somepony so pitiful. I understand that she is your friend and personally I find that fact to be proof of your generous heart, but tell me, Rarity, do you ever find yourself wanting to smack that sniveling pony in the face? Don’t you want to just shake her until she finally snaps out of this pathetic existence? She is weighing you down, Rarity, a stone around your neck for every second you waste trying to help her out is a second you are not spending thinking of me.
Oh how I wish.
I know the truth. I am not so delusional that I think you know who I am. We have crossed paths hundreds of times and not once have you spared a glance in my direction. No, don’t feel bad, dear Rarity, don’t feel bad. If I were in your hooves I wouldn’t give me the time of day either. With my bad skin, my frail body, my thick-glasses. How could I ever expect to compete with all the other stallions of Ponyville? I am no Big Macintosh. I have grown to accept that fact but just because I have accepted it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Every time you walk past me without so much as a hello I feel as if my heart had just been ripped from my chest.
It is okay.
I forgive you, Rarity. I can never stay mad at you. How could a lowly peon such as me stay mad at a goddess? It is impossible.
I remember the first time we ran into each other. I was at the Cakes bakery, trying to decide which cupcake to purchase for my mother, when you walked in, your mane glistening in the afternoon light, your eyes shining brightly, a dainty smile upon your lips as you greeted that excitable pink pony who insists on poking her nose into every other pony’s business. You two were talking about some kind of picnic. I wanted nothing more than to ask for an invitation but my nerves got the better of me. Without so much as a glance in my direction, you left the bakery in the company of that annoying pink pony. I could not contain my disappointment. There you were, beauty incarnate, and I had been too nervous to introduce myself. Disgusted with myself, I left the bakery without bothering to pick up my mother’s birthday cupcake. When Mrs. Cake asked what to do with it, I remember telling her just to give it away, that I no longer cared.
Ah, the story of my life; it has been this way ever since I was a little foal. I was always being overlooked by others. It didn’t matter if I were in school or at home; I was just one of those foals that everyone ignored. I remember distinctly that there was one time when the teacher asked a question. With a sudden burst of excitement, I realized that I knew the answer. Without hesitation, I thrust my hoof into the air, waving it back and forth. I did this for several seconds before my teacher called upon the filly behind me. Just like that, I had been overlooked.
It became more obvious when I got older. My family and I would go out to a diner and the waitress would constantly skip over me, even going so far as to walking about without taking my order. My parents would always have to call her back to which she would apologize profusely, stating that she hadn’t seen me sitting there.
It is something that I have grown accustomed too but that didn’t mean I liked it. It hurt. It hurt a lot and with each and every incident the pain grew that much more intense. They say that after a while the pain will just go away but I find that this isn’t the case with me. It just keeps growing, festering within my chest like a parasite…
There is only one pony in all existence that can sooth my pain and that is you, Rarity. Your beauty, your sweet, sophisticated voice, your scent; these are the things that help me go through the day. You may not know this but I visit your shop at least once a day. Oh sure, you may give out a quick “Hello” when I step in but you never look up from your work. It is just a knee-jerk reaction to hearing door’s bell ring.
Do you know how long I stay there, Rarity, watching you work?
Hours.
There is a corner of your shop that is empty. I sit here and watch you work. It allows me to study you in your natural habitat, which, I must say, is quite fascinating. Whereas you are quite talkative when out and about with your friends, you are practically mute while you work. The only exception being when you are planning out a new design for it is during these times where you talk to yourself, asking questions, answering them, and seeking advice from your cat, Opal. I find that these conversations are quite endearing for your voice is that of angels. I daresay that Celestia herself would be jealous of a voice as beautiful as yours, Rarity. How I wish I could keep your voice in a bottle and take it home with me.
That would be heavenly.
The silence that comes when you begin working on a dress is simply exquisite for it is during this time I get to admire all of your quirky little habits. Did you know, dear Rarity, that you bite your lower lip while you sew or that you flick your ears whenever you go through your chest of jewelry?
I watch you when you sleep. You have that plush, expensive-looking couch that you use to nap upon. I enjoy standing over you, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Once, at the risk of being caught, I even placed my ear to your chest so that I could listen to your heart beat. It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard – well, besides the sound of your voice.
To other ponies this admiration of mine may seem like an obsession but I disagree. This is less of an obsession and more like an admiration. There is no pony in all of Equestria who would care for you like I do. I just wish you would understand that. I wish there could be a moment in my life where you would approach me and just talk to me. The simple acknowledgement of my presence would show me, once and for all, that you care about me as much as I care about you.
Ah Rarity, how I dream of such a day.
The Farmer’s Market is open today and I know from past experiences that you will be there looking for some fresh produce and how lucky am I that for the first time in a long time, that I need to go to the market for reasons other than following you. Mother has requested from me to pick up some fresh asparagus, so I know that you and I will be in the same area.
How I pray to Celestia that this will be the day that I finally gather up the nerve to talk to you. How I pray that this be the day where you finally accept my existence.
Alas, I know the truth. The day will go on like any other and we shall cross paths without as much as a hello. That is fine. As long as I get to see you, Rarity, I am happy…
But a stallion can dream…
Right?
