A Life Defined

by Wearin Hat

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Slice of Life
Length: 1831

Who am I and why is that me?

A day is defined by the sun and the night by the moon. Time is defined by the minutes making up each moment and by the events that occur in every minute. A definition can make almost anything seem clear after much confusion, but how do you define a pony? Is it what they do that defines them or who they are that defines them? Is a pony defined by what they know or by what they don’t know? For that matter, is it the question they ask or is the question they hide that defines them?

Most importantly, does it really matter who you are?

A/N: This was something I had to get out of my system as it was rotting my mind away. I’m very aware that there is almost no audience for this kind of thing, but I’m actually kind of proud about how this came out and I thought I might as well share this with my favorite community.

By the way, this little piece is indeed focused around one character in particular. In fact, her name is right there in the story if you know where to look. For the sake of maintaining that mystery, do not read the comments before you read this. See if you can figure it out!

Published 2012-08-26 23:34:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-26 23:34:01 UTC

Who Am I?

For the times of life that exist during our greatest moments, why is it that some stand up and others sit down? Who is it that decides who we are? Are our lives dictated out on a planned track or is it like a train with a conductor? If we cannot alter the course of what we become, then why do some of us shine while others falter? What being is at the center of our lives making those decisions and why are they the one making those decisions? If not some higher being, then why is it nothing I do changes what I am? Are we all just stagnant creatures who amble around clueless of just how little impact we have on our lives? If so, then why? Why can’t I be the one to decide who I become? Why do I have to be who I am when I want to be so much more? Why is it that I must suffer under my identity while others do not? What makes me so different from them?

Long past is the time where I was innocent and naïve. No longer can I claim ignorance of how the world works. I know why the sun rises each morning and I know why it sets. I know why certain beings are not permitted to live amongst us ponies and are rather cast into imprisonment instead. My mind has been tainted with this knowledge and as such I cannot say that nothing is wrong. I can’t put on a fake smile and expect everypony to accept it. Nor can I accept the reason for the fake smile. The way I am is a curse upon all those who know me and are unfortunate enough to love me. Why is it only what I want to know that I can’t know? At least with my desired knowledge I would be able to explain to my friends why exactly I hide behind my smile.

Uttering my thoughts to my friends is out of the question, especially when I cannot even explain to them why it is I thought such things to begin with. They don’t need to be burdened by what I know. In fact, they actually enjoy being who they are. Not one of them stays at home wondering whether or not they will be able to hide how they feel about who they are. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate the effects my life has on others, I actually take great pride in the help I provide, but I do not appreciate that I do not enjoy being me. I know ponies who proclaim that life’s length is too short for frowns and sadness and all they do is have fun and smile. What they don’t understand is that they were born to smile and be happy. I’m not naturally disposed to smiling and I’m only ever truly happy when I have a say in how my life flows.

Things would be easier if I wasn’t me. Nopony would be let down by me, nopony would have to purposefully overlook me knowing I won’t be able to help, nopony would have to avoid me because they’d know I’d be approachable, and there would be so little strife for me. I’m sure that I’d be missed, but I wouldn’t agonize over their grief. I try so hard to be happy that I forget that sometimes it isn’t about being happy, you just have to figure out how to stick around until it doesn’t occur to you how unhappy you really are.

To know that you’ve let everypony down at every turn is a pain I hope to forget one day. They expect more out of me than what exists and I don’t blame them for it. It’s only fair they expect me to pull the same weight that everypony else pulls. Sure, under extremely specific circumstances, I prove useful for them, but that’s rare whenever it happens. At all other times I’m just the odd one out. I’m the only one of my race who does exactly the opposite of what the rest do. A typical foalhood story would have some silly moral about how there’s nothing wrong with being special, but that just isn’t the case. There is more than enough wrong with being special. I would know. I can’t blend in, those who seek me find me without trouble, and, worst of all, nopony can relate to the problems I deal with. My greatest pain in life is my knowing that my uniqueness puts a great burden on my friends. For whatever reason I have been born with the intrinsically important task of defending Equestria, but unlike my friends, there is little I can do to actually help beyond simply being there.

Every time I see my reflection I can’t help but cringe. Why is that me? Why must that be the pony staring back at me from the mirror? In a way that’s almost as funny as it is tragic, my greatest shame is that I lack the power to take my own life. Thoughts about suicide aren’t very common for me and I admit that I do not like it when I focus on such things, but sometimes there doesn’t seem to be other options. Before Nightmare Moon returned and brought all of my friends together I only had two friends with whom I could actually talk to without feeling intimidated too much. Back then I would spend the lonely nights looking out of my windows and wondering when I’d finally do something nopony would expect me to do. I used to dream of how I could finally break the mold I had been cast into, but those dreams always ended with me waking up the same pony who had cried herself to sleep the night before. Suicide didn’t seem like too extreme of an idea back in that time. At least with my passing I’d finally be able to do something my predestined self could never do; embrace the coldness of death. However, my very own nature stopped me. My worst fault ended up saving my life when I wanted it to end. That is the definition of sorrow; being confined by a problem that both inhibits you and encourages you at the same time. It made me sad enough to think dying was fine and good, but then it would make me quiver to the ground in tears out of fright.

Rivers of sadness and heartache proceeded when I finally confided in one of my friends about my thoughts. All she could tell me was that I was made the way I am for a reason. I went home crying because it felt like life was mocking me. All I’ve ever wanted was to know that who I am is not predestined by some cruel being. Despite all of my shortcomings, the knowledge that I CAN change if I want to would more than comforting. That’s all I needed her to say. I could’ve lived the rest of my life with a bright smile if she hadn’t concurred with my worst fear. No, instead she unknowingly gave reassurance to that horrid idea. To this day I don’t know how long I stayed locked inside my house after our talk. What I do know is that none of my friends have ever brought that issue up with me and for that I am grateful.

Sometimes I look to the few family photos I have and think back to my time as a filly. Happy memories filled with the naivety of foalhood and the ignorance of life’s cruelty. Back then I couldn’t register the disappointment my family had with me for my failures. I only ever smiled dumbly as I continued on my way as though there was nothing wrong with it. I envy my younger self. To mask my pain and isolated torment with genuine joy and foalish thoughtlessness would be a gift. My mind would never become weighed down with the disappointment of everypony around me and I would ever burden myself with why I wasn’t the way I wanted to be. That would be a good life. However, such dreams must always end. I have responsibilities, duties, and those who rely on me to do what only I do. For them I must remain conflicted and hopeful. It is to my unfortunate displeasure that my sacrifice is a continuous price I pay for others happiness.

Having crushes is not easy for me. I see a stallion or a mare I like and I never think of how happy I’d be with them. Never once do I dare to imagine what it would feel like to sleep in the warm embrace of a pony who wouldn’t judge me for being something I had no choice to be. My only thoughts are of how unhappy everypony would be to see that stallion or mare wasted upon me. They’d all pity the unfortunate pony who settled for me. Worst of all, everypony would blame me for it. The entire town would demand to know why I wanted to be happy and keep somepony to myself. I’d get yelled at and berated for simply wanting acceptance. It isn’t too bad though; I can at least wake up every morning knowing that my continued single status provides the town with a stallion or mare that would otherwise be regretting every waking moment with me.

Yet, despite everything, I still find reasons to be happy. If I see my friends succeed at something or if I see somepony recover from an injury I get a nice feeling in my heart. The sunset always leaves me with a lasting smile even though I know it will always be an experience I will spend alone. Even my painful ignorance provides me with smiles sometimes. Case in point, I don’t know why I am the way I am. Though I desire to know the answer to that riddle, I am happy to know that I am not certain that my tragedies and tears are the result of some higher beings ultimate plan for the world. It isn’t much comfort, but the joys I do have allow me to fight on and live each day with the life I don’t want. I once heard a wise pony say that it is hardship that defines who you are. If true, then I can take eternal solace in knowing that my spirit must be strong to endure it all. However, before I die one day, I would like for somepony to tell me why my life has panned out the way it has; whether the answer be that I am the product of my own decisions or if I’ve played my role perfectly as some grand designer had planned. Oh well, I can at least sleep knowing that an answer is out there…somewhere.