So many years ago, I was very young.
Growing like a tree
And hurting.
And growing.
And... un-growing?
Always surrounded by ponies.
Was that good or bad?
Because now,
Though I'm not a tree,
I have roots and a trunk.
I have stems and leaves.
Each leaf represents a mistake in my past,
A year of pain
And a year of
Being surrounded by ponies.
Last year, I was three.
Just bursting through a tiny seed,
My eyes peeking out of a tough shell.
I grew to know life.
I grew to know ponies.
Obviously, I was surrounded by life.
And ponies.
Last year, I was four.
I want to get back into my tiny seed;
I don't want to see pain again.
Maybe it's a feeling, when love is taken away.
When someone like Mom is gone.
Tears flowing, I was surrounded by death.
But still ponies.
Last year, I was five.
My seed is a piece of junk now.
I'm a tiny sprout.
I've got basic things under control, and I can talk.
Just not about feelings. I can't control those.
Oh, how I was surrounded by emotions.
And ponies.
Last year, I was six.
I don't know if I'm considered a sprout.
A sapling, maybe.
There's this school thing, and it's pretty new. But it's neat.
But I don't learn here, even if I'm meant to.
Ugh, I'm surrounded by nothingness.
And ponies.
Last year, I was seven.
I'm a sapling still.
Just a bit bigger, growing through mistakes.
I've spent school knowing everything. It's boring.
My magic is too strong for magic school.
Yeah, I'm surrounded by power.
And boring old ponies.
Last year, I was eight.
I'm whatever comes after a sapling.
Not as slender a trunk, not such a small amount of leaves.
It took a while, but I have someone to replace Mom.
Not replace, really. It's a young colt.
A "friend," named Sunburst.
Finally, I'm surrounded by happiness.
And ponies.
Last year, I was ten.
I guess I'm young or something.
No special type I'll be yet.
It's sad to think I don't have a path to grow yet.
Because Sunburst does.
And he left me for it.
Sobbing, I'm surrounded by feelings again.
And no ponies.
Last year, I was eleven.
I don't know what my path is meant to be.
Although I've finally got a confusing mark to show it.
A magic outburst, the umpteenth time.
Maybe that's my destiny? Magic?
As confused as I am, I'm surrounded by the answers I can't see.
No ponies, which is bad.
Now I can't find answers through them.
Last year, I was twelve.
I won't about the hideous mark on my flank.
It's as if I'm a tree with the brown leaves still on.
Dad is giving me more rotten stuff to think about.
It's making me die away inside.
Quaking, I'm under the pressure.
I barely see ponies anymore.
Last year, I was thirteen.
Am I young or old?
Thirteen is the age of change, or maybe it's whenever you get your mark.
I've got the mark and I'm thirteen.
But that doesn't mean I can drink, can I?
Because I'm surrounded by drugs.
I can't help myself without ponies around to help me first.
Last year, I was fifteen.
I think I feel old.
And, well, that's a bad thing.
I've run away from home, independent and old.
No more butterflies, no grass, no hope.
I'm not surrounded by anything.
Except depression.
I hope to find ponies soon.
Last year, I was sixteen.
My depression's getting better.
I'm no longer wondering about my existence, and I think that's good.
I've found ponies again!
Hooray...
I've brought them together, so we're surrounded by each other.
I'm surrounded by equality.
It sickens me, so I'm happy I'm not equal, too.
Last year, I was nineteen.
I thought a princess would be good to grow the equality.
Boy, was I wrong.
She tried to break the equality.
Her friends tried to ruin the population.
And it worked!
I ran away, surrounded once more by nothingness and anger.
No more ponies.
Ponies are trouble.
No more chances.
Last year, I guess, I was nineteen.
And a half. Or so.
Twlight Sparkle, that alicorn fixed my problems.
Brought me into the light, gave me a final chance.
So I'm not that lonely anymore.
And now I'm learning to like ponies again.
Yay...
This year.
Is...
A chaotic year.
It hurts.
And this year, I'm twenty.
I've got scars, and friendship is starting to cover them.
But no matter how hidden they are, they'll still be there.
And maybe that's okay.
Oh so many years ago, I was young.
Am I old now?
Growing like a tree
And growing, and growing.
And un-growing through all the pain.
Always surrounded by ponies.
Except for the times when I wasn't.
Was that good or bad?
I think it was bad when I felt bad.
But it was still good when I felt fine.
So many sins in how I felt,
So many sins in how it worked.
But I'm growing.
Though I'm not a full tree,
I have roots and a trunk.
I have stems and brances and leaves.
And each leaf represents a mistake in my past,
A year of pain
And a year of
Being surrounded by ponies.
Or not being surrounded by ponies.
And now, as I stand here, facing my friends, I smile.
They care that I'm turning.
That I'm growing, just like I should.
"We all love you."
"But I don't love me."
"I love parties! And I love birthdays! And I care about your birthday, too!"
"And to think I didn't care for it..."
"Well, you're not alone."
Twilight's first line stretches into her smile.
Her wing around me is comforting.
An embrace, water and sunlight for a little tree like me.
Incomplete, but big.
I don't think I'll ever be complete.
And that's okay.
Because:
"We'll fight all the problems together."
