The mechanical ticking of my wall clock echoes through the oppressive silence of the library. It's late, and yet I can't find sleep. The soft flicker of the candles casts long, dancing shadows on the walls, as if they were trying to bring the countless books on the shelves to life. Like disciplined soldiers, they stand there, still, patient, always ready. The familiar scent of ink and parchment hangs heavy in the air, reminding me of my room in Canterlot.

If I close my eyes and focus solely on that scent, I can even imagine what it would be like if I had never left Canterlot. I see myself in my old room, bathed in the warm light of the torches, surrounded by the walls that once gave me comfort and protection. There, hunched over my desk, I would be deeply absorbed in a book or pondering a magical formula, in a state of complete satisfaction. It would be... perfect.

But now... now I’m here. In Ponyville. Far away from everything I know. I open my eyes again, and the now-familiar shadows of the library suddenly seem foreign and cold. I try to calm the storm in my head, but the thoughts won’t go away. After the events of the Summer Sun Celebration, I decided to stay here in Ponyville... or did I really? The truth is, the decision was never truly mine. Celestia had long since determined that my place would be here. Not me.

Celestia. Everything I do, I do for her. Every decision, every step, every effort, all just to live up to her image. I am her most loyal student. When I saw how proud she looked at me and my newfound friends, I knew exactly what she expected of me. That look... it was as if I had finally proven I was worthy of standing by her side. So, I left. Without hesitation. Because I couldn’t fail. Because I couldn’t disappoint her.

She instructed me to study the magic of friendship. A ridiculous subject, if you ask me, but who am I to question Celestia? Every Tuesday, I write her a report about what I’ve learned about friendship over the past week. Friendship. A word that carries so much weight for others, but for me, it still feels hollow.

The other ponies in Ponyville... they’re nice, I must admit. It makes it easier to talk to them, easier to maintain the façade. But deep down, I know they don’t really interest me. Not truly. It’s almost ironic when I think about it. Never before have I had so many friends, and yet I’ve never felt so lonely as I do here in Ponyville.

It’s only in the quiet of the night, when I’m alone in my library, that the mask falls. Then I feel a little more like myself. The pony I am during the day - that’s not really me. A part of me stayed behind in Canterlot, in the halls of the castle, at Celestia’s side.

Sometimes, I wonder if Celestia even knows. Does she understand what she did to me by sending me here? Did she ever consider what it meant for me to be away from everything I knew? Or... or did she simply not care? I shake my head. No. I mustn’t think that way. Celestia only wants the best for me... she’s always said that.

But the longer I stay here in Ponyville, the harder it becomes to push those thoughts away. Who am I anymore? During the day, I can maintain the mask - smiling, talking, pretending that I care about all of this. But at night... at night, I’m alone. Alone with my thoughts, which won’t leave me alone.

It feels as if I’m losing control.

I watch the other ponies, as they laugh, talk, and live their lives as if everything is so easy. Sometimes I wonder if they notice. Do they know that I don’t really belong here? That I’m not truly part of this town? Maybe they’re just waiting for me to fail.

And me? There’s nothing I can do about it. We have to be the best of friends, because if we weren’t... I would have failed.

“Twilight?” Spike’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I slowly turn around and look into Spike’s eyes. His eyes. They seem so sad, so confused. Is he feeling the same way I do? Does he feel this same inexplicable pressure weighing down on my chest?

“Yes, Spike? What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. A smile. Just a small, weak smile, to reassure him. It feels wrong, unnatural, but I force it onto my face.

Spike looks at me, his brow slightly furrowed. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asks softly, the concern in his voice unmistakable. “I’m worried about you. You... you’ve been staring out the window since I came down here. You didn’t even notice I was here.”

His words hit me, as if I’ve been snapped out of a dream. How long have I been sitting here? I try to recall the moment he entered the room, but there’s nothing—just the dull feeling that I’m losing control.

“Oh, Spike, I’m sorry for worrying you,” I said with the same forced smile on my face. It felt foreign. A joke. Maybe that would ease the tension. “I was just lost in thought, you know how I can be sometimes.” A small laugh followed, light, almost forced. “I promise I’ll go to bed soon. You go ahead, okay?”

I tried to put on the sweetest smile I could manage in that moment, as if it could wipe away all his worries. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw the doubt in them. He didn’t believe me. Not entirely.

“Okay,” Spike murmured finally, but his gaze said more than his words. He was worried. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of telling him what was really going on in my head... the silence that enveloped me every night, the loneliness that cut deeper the longer I stayed here, the thoughts that surrounded me like a dark fog and ate away at me. But I couldn’t. I mustn’t. I love it here in Ponyville...

“Don’t stay up too late, Twilight,” he added, before slowly climbing the stairs. His footsteps echoed softly through the library, and with each step, he grew further away.

The smile I had put on for him disappeared as soon as I was sure he was out of sight. I felt empty. I decided to make myself something to eat before finally going to bed. Something to pull me away from the window. The kitchen, like the library, was silent and empty. A sign that I would need to go shopping the next day. I opened one of the cupboards and found half a loaf of uncut bread and a nearly empty jar of jam. It somehow fit. Almost empty. Incomplete.

I used my magic to grab one of the long kitchen knives and cut a slice from the bread. A simple slice, mechanical, almost thoughtless. But as I turned my gaze to the blade, it caught on my reflection. My eyes. Small, tired, and surrounded by dark circles. Was that really me?

For a moment, I stared at myself, as if a stranger stood before me. When did I become like this? The thought came unexpectedly and hit me like a punch. The Twilight I saw in the reflection was so far from the image I once had of myself. Celestia’s student. The talented, disciplined magician.

Now? Now I was just a shadow of my former self, tired, exhausted, and without a clear goal. How could I have let this happen? Apparently, I didn’t even have control over my own body anymore.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the blade. So sharp, so precise. Like a perfect instrument, promising control... control that was slipping further and further from me.

It would be so easy. A small cut. A moment of clarity amidst the chaos. I could do whatever I wanted, and no one could stop me.

My breathing quickened, and I felt the familiar magic tighten its grip around the knife. A small cut... maybe that would calm the storm in my head, if only for a moment. I held the blade to my leg and felt the cold metal against my skin.

But then I hesitated. What was I doing?
A violent shudder ran through my body, and the knife fell from my magical grip. The sound of the falling steel echoed through the silent kitchen. I hurriedly took a step back, as if I could shield myself from the shadow of my own thoughts.

What had just happened?

My gaze drifted to my leg. A small cut. A thin red line ran across my skin, barely noticeable, but still shocking in its reality. My breath came in quick bursts, my heart pounded wildly in my chest, as if I had just run a marathon. What was I thinking?
I quickly grabbed the knife again and held it in the air for a moment. I forced myself to wash the blood from the blade, frantically, as if I could wash away the memory of the moment. It was just an accident. A clumsy moment while cutting bread. Yes, that’s what it was. Nothing more. Something like this could happen to anyone, right?

I carefully placed the knife to the side, as if it were a living thing that could take control again at any moment. How clumsy was I to let something like that happen? It was ridiculous. Now I couldn’t even cut bread without cutting myself. I took a deep breath and left the knife in the sink. It was just a stupid accident, Twilight, nothing to panic about, I repeated in my mind, as if the mantra could make everything better.

What’s wrong with me?

I wanted to distract myself, so I grabbed the bread and tried to focus again on what I had originally intended to do: eat. I levitated the bread with my magic and spread the jam over it. The motion calmed me a little. Eat something, go to bed, and tomorrow will be better. Yes, tomorrow will be better. It has to be.

But when I took the first bite, the bread tasted like nothing. The jam, usually sweet and fruity, now seemed bland. All I tasted was... nothing.

I set the plate aside, unable to eat more. What’s wrong with me? Slowly, I made my way to my bedroom, the walk feeling endlessly long. I crawled into bed, pulled the blanket over myself, but sleep wouldn’t come. My body was exhausted, yet my mind... my mind couldn’t stop thinking. I heard the faint sound of Spike snoring and once again the mechanical ticking of my wall clock.

Author's Note

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