Author's Note

this chapter does not contain anything that bad as of yet, and also I will edit this more later.

Thanks to DeathToPonys for proofreading.

My dear Pinkamina.

My dear Pinkamina.

You brighten my day rivaling Celestia her self.

Heating me up so I may melt.

When you walk my way I see the confetti stuck in your pelt, and I wish I could wipe it away with the slightest felt.

From where I'm from to where I am, all I have planned is to see you again.

I dont know what the future holds, I could imagine myself growing old.

But only if your there, living as my mare.

With you there, I will have no fear my dear.

"Finally done!" I would say to myself, finally finishing my poem.

"This one I'm sure she will find exquisite." I said, running my hoof over a picture of Pinkie I had hanging on my wall. I then got up to try to wash off some ink that I had spilled on my hoof by going to the bathroom. When I was finished, I looked in the mirror. Normally, I detested seeing myself, but today was different because I was going to see someone.

I then took a closer look at my appearance, including my dark, shaggy hair, my white, pale coat, and my cutie mark—the thing that initially inspired me to write poetry. It was a cartoonish heart shape that appeared to be dripping with ink. You know, I have always found the concept of a cutie mark to be pretty peculiar. After all, how can a mark identify your strongest skill?

Sure, it is meant to highlight your strengths, but are you really in need of it if it does not make your life easier? The only thing my mark has helped me with is being despised by everyone, including my own parents, who I thought I could trust. I escaped them for that reason. Well, that is enough rambling; I have a date to go to.

Oh right, you do not know, Let me bring you up to speed.

It had been weeks since I had moved here; I was running from my family. They were, shall we say, abusive. Is that the right word? Yes, abusive. And I came to Ponyville hoping to find refuge among the populace. I was terrified for most of the time I stayed there, but one week in, I could remember the day in perfect detail.

It was a Saturday mourning, and I had just moved into a small apartment after a very drawn-out employment search. I became aware of how terrible my conversation skills were while I was strolling to get groceries. I tried to pay most of the time by not talking because I was so nervous that most people thought I was hard of hearing. Still, I was able to survive.

I performed music and recited poetry for a living; I would perform my own writings near the town market.

It was one of those days when I would go out and perform, sing, and try to get as much attention as possible. I received some money, but not much, just a few bits here and there. However, everything changed when the pink mare came over to my bucket. At first she gasped and ran off, but she came back quickly, dropping ten bits in a row before running off again. I ceased playing out of shock, only to realize that she had already departed when I looked up. To be honest, I was a little confused by this, but she did pay ten bits, so I was happy about that.

I made the decision to go home after completing my work for the day. But, I ran into the pink mare once more when I was out for a stroll. I attempted to greet her by waving, but she simply grabbed my hoof and said she had a surprise for me. She forced us through one alleyway and into another, and I was too afraid to ask her what she was doing because it was terrifying right then.

When we got there, we were in a part of town I had never been before. With haste, she had turned around and gestured to the structure in front of us, which looked like a gingerbread house straight out of Hammer and Grittle.

"Hi, I am Pinkie Pie," she greeted. I am sorry I did not get to finish listening to your song earlier, but I had to head out to get ready for your party. You were so talented at singing and playing that I had to welcome you even though I had never seen you before and I never, ever, ever arrive late for a welcome to Ponyville party. So, how long have you lived here?

"Uh, a week?" I would say.

"Can you tell me what this is all abo-" I would be interrupted when the pink mare began rambling again.

Gasp! "What! For that long, wow I must really be getting rusty, I mean I only just now met you? She would then softly hit herself on the head, saying "Bad Pinkie!, Bad Pinkie!" after which she would stop and look at me with those big blue eyes that were like the deepest of oceans, saying, "Well, let us go in already, everypony is waiting for you!"

"Wait, did you say everypony?" I would inquire nervously.

"Yep, I did" pinkie would say.

"And, there waiting for me? In there?" I would ask, eyes flicking between Pinkie and the building.

"Yep, hey you should really not underestimate your hearing silly. I mean, you got everything I said right so far." Pinkie would giggle.

"Right." I would say with a heavy gulp.

We walk in and immediately I was surprised as everypony jumped out and scared the buck out of me. As a slew of random ponies I did not know, as well as some I did, appeared and announced, "SURPRISE WELCOME TO PONYVILLE INK!"

"Wow. For me, a nobody, you did this whole thing?" I would ask, speechless and perplexed.

"Yep, I figured you did not have any friends, so I decided to give you all of them, with their permission of course!" Pinky would say

"Wow I dont know what to say? Thank yo-" I would try to say as I am again interrupted.

"Do not say anything silly; just party!" She would say, grabbing me by the hoof and pushing me deeper into the building.

After a while of dancing and playing, I would simply sit down, content that I had had a good time. Pinkie would sit next to me and talk for hours and hours, even after the other ponies had gone. The feeling I had with her at the moment was indescribable; it was akin to a million fireworks or a thousand supernovas! I was trying to calm down as I stared into her gorgeous eyes, but this was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I could not help but wonder if this was what love felt like. It felt just like it was described in the songs and poems I used to read and hear.

But the moment had to end eventually, and it did when she had felt tired and said that I better go home and get some sleep. I agreed, knowing that no matter how much I wanted to sleep with her, I could push her away if I asked, which I did not want, especially given how I was feeling at the time.

As the weeks and months passed, I became aware that I was seeing Pinkie more and more, even in private moments like when she was getting ready for bed or having a shower. "I should not be spying on ponys," is probably what is going through your mind. And yes, I know this is wrong, but does the fact that I am going the extra mile just show how much I care that she is so kind and considerate? And that it is genuinely romantic what I am doing?

Yes, it has to be, I will show her that I care, and I will know everything about her. But like I said, I would watch her almost every day, whether or not she knew I was there. Over the course of the months, I gradually covered my walls with pictures of her and wrote poems about her; it felt like my talent had a purpose in my life when I wrote poems about her, because I was able to capture her beauty with my talent.

Now that you are caught up, allow me to explain what I am doing at the moment. I am about to ask my lovely pink mare out on a date, and I can not lie, I am nervous. I even attached a little metal balloon-shaped pin to my suit as a way of showing her how much I loved her. I understand that I might come across as a bit dramatic, but I have always been a theater colt, and she probably is too.

I had never felt more confident than I did when I left my apartment; I was nervous, but I had to do this to show my appreciation to her for giving me a reason to live. Even so, I bought her flowers, which were a pretty pink that complemented her coat. Her coat was still better, though, so I hope she likes them.

I walked up to the spot where she had taken me to the party the day we met, looked in the window, and...

What?

What is this?

Through the window I saw a stallion that looked just like Pinkie, complete with the same kind of curly hair, conversing with her. He looked like a cheap imitation. Well that is fine—she can have friends—I wish we could have had some alone time th-THEY KISSED! No, this cannot be happening!

Alright, I get it now. This is not a coincidence; the stallion actually anticipated my arrival, did not he? Why else would he be out on a date on the day I want to ask her out if he did not know I wanted her? He must want to take her away from me; well, this just will not do now will it? Oh, dear Pinkie, My dear Pinkamina, for your love I will MAKE HIM PAY!

END CHAPTER ONE