The Appleoosan sky was something special, but ponies always told her that there was no point in starting a story by describing the weather. Apple Fritter begged to differ. She loved closing her eyes and imagining a skyline, whether it be the cloudless blue of her backyard or the muted night sky of the city.
But it didn’t matter. This wasn’t a story anyways. So she could do whatever she wanted.
The sky was painted with wisps of white clouds, trailing off into the horizon. The sun was melting into the mountains as Celestia gave way to Luna; as day gave way to night. A cool evening breeze blew through her mane, scattering some leaves in front of the house.
Apple Fritter sighed, reaching for her steaming mug of hot tea. She took a sip, savoring the sweet taste as she swallowed. With a silent, content sigh, she held the mug in her hooves, feeling the heat warm her hooves.
She stared out at the orchard, not looking at anything in particular. She sat still, holding her drink, and wondered if she mattered.
It wasn’t a new question to her. But even after all these years, she still didn’t have an answer. Maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe life had given her an answer and she had just missed it. With a frown, Apple Fritter let her mind drift.
Last year, she broke her hoof when she fell off of the barn roof. She didn’t think anyone would care, but was surprised when she received volumes of get-well-soon cards and flowers. They were silly, store-bought cards and the flowers all died after a week, but the sentiment was nice. She suspected Braeburn had a lot to do with it, though.
She could never forget the look on his face when she woke up in the hospital bed. Her brother was distraught. Apple Fritter just felt disappointed. Mostly in herself. She told him she fell from the roof, and he never questioned it. But she was sure that he knew the truth.
Apple Fritter liked to think of herself as a simple mare. She liked reading and baking, sleeping in on weekends, and going to the farmer’s market. The only real difference between her and everyone else was that she was a born mute.
She was tired, frankly. Tired of being ignored, talked over, and discounted. Sure, she couldn’t actually speak or participate, but that didn’t mean she had nothing to say. But still, she was passed over, shoved to the side, and laughed at. She was mute, not deaf.
Was it really that hard to understand that she wanted the same things as everyone else? Apple Fritter didn’t know. But she supposed so. Either that or ponies were just horrible, horrible creatures.
Apple Fritter didn’t consider herself to be a pessimist. She liked to think that there was a reason their kind was still alive. But she wasn’t an optimist either. How could she be, after everything that had happened to her?
She took a sip from her tea. It wasn’t that she was sad. Moreso just tired, both physically and mentally. She wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. But she couldn’t fight anymore. Apple Fritter was too tired to spend every day fighting to be noticed.
Honestly, she just wanted an answer. But every time she asked if she mattered, all she had was silence. And it made her look desperate, too, but she needed to know. Because if she didn’t matter, then why bother fighting?
… why was she still fighting? Apple Fritter put her mug down. She liked to think that everypony had a reason to live. If they didn’t, then they wouldn’t be alive. So what was her reason? Last year she was convinced she didn’t have one.
So did she have a reason now? What was it? Fear of disappointing Braeburn? She’d disappointed him enough times already. Fear of dying? Well, that was backwards. After death there was nothing left to fear.
Apple Fritter had friends, but she was still lonely. Apple Fritter had a purpose, but she still felt lost. She had plenty of reasons to be happy, but she still felt sad. None of it made sense.
Life, she decided, wasn’t made to make sense. That’s why it had highs and lows, that’s why she was a mute, and yet she was still talked over all the time.
She was one mare. Equestria as a whole wouldn’t be any better or any worse off if she died. But she was okay with that. She didn’t want to change the world anyways. On the other hoof that didn’t mean she wanted to be forgotten. But who would remember her when she passed.
All of this thinking was making her head hurt. And worse of all it was getting her nowhere. All she had done was think herself into a circle, no closer to answer than she was when she started. Apple Fritter sighed and reached for her mug again.
Braeburn encouraged her to talk about it. But what was the point? It was just another sad story in a sea of a million. Ponies out there were dealing with far worse after all. And even then, she really didn’t think that she had anything to say.
None of it made sense in her head anyways. Putting into words was harder.
So did she matter? Apple Fritter still didn’t know. She looked down and saw she was out of tea. She was still tired, lonely, and bored. She still couldn’t speak and she still wasn’t heard.
Do I matter?
No, you don’t. Ponies didn’t want to hear another sad song from a nameless mare. There was enough sadness in the world already. Besides, who in their right mind would cry for someone they didn’t know?
Yes, you do. But that didn’t mean ponies didn’t care for strangers. They had an entire Princess dedicated to the study of friendship after all. And maybe she was just being pessimistic. Maybe she wasn’t as alone as she thought she was.
Apple Fritter was frustrated. She just wanted a clear answer to ease her mind, but she could never find one. She was growing tired of the fighting in her own head as thoughts flew through her mind, like a war where she was fighting for both sides.
Apple Fritter set her empty cup down and sighed, tilting her head up towards the sky. The sun was still setting, taking its time as it descended over the mountains. A few stray leaves blew through the orchard.
It didn’t matter in the end. Tomorrow, she’d feel better.
Maybe.
