Friends

Friends

I see friendship all around me.

At least, while I keep my eyes closed. I can still see the unicorn shaking me ever so gently, as long as they're shut tight. My sister notices that I'm awake and heads out for breakfast, leaving me to the shattered pieces of my dream. The unicorn starts to fade away, but I'm holding on as long as possible. She's almost gone now, and there are little dots and stars amidst the darkness from shutting my eyes too tightly, yet I forge on to keep her intact. It's just a battle I know my thoughts can't win, though. They never have.

I slide off my bed and land with a dull thud on the wooden floor of my room, reach under my bed, and pull out my special, polished rock. I look into it and watch as the poofs and curls and fluffs of my mane straightens themselves out, taking the last vivid memories of my dream with it. The straightness of my mane, the dullness of the wood beneath me, the grayness of the world around me, they all make me feel more empty inside. They always have.

It's a funny thing, how reality seems to change. I once thought that my dreams were reality, and reality was all just a boring nightmare. Then, I remembered the day I got my cutie mark, and the days before that, and how my dreams started that day. Now, though, I realize I never thought of my dreams as reality at all; it was just a foolish, foolish hope. My mane is almost completely straight now, a perfect compliment to those of my sisters. I leave my room and enter my other sister's, bringing her back to reality with a few nudges here and there. My mind wanders as I poke her sleeping form, and I find myself not even thinking about what I'm doing as I daydream. The foal beside me stirs, and I stop prodding her with my hoof.

It's breakfast time; I enter the dining room and wait for my newly awoken sister to come in. The meal before me is the same as always, and it's never been worth mentioning at the best of times. It takes just a few seconds for the half-asleep filly to enter and take her seat at the table. The family's all here now, and we dig in. I don't focus on it or taste anything, though, just like any other day.

We all finish our meals as one, and we all head outside to the rock farm as one. We all take a few steps outside, and stop as one. Only then do we separate. My parents head off somewhere else, I'm not exactly sure. My sisters head off with me to gather the day's rock quota, but they break away and trudge over to another part of the farm. There's a crow on the tree over there, the first I've seen in weeks. Nothing comes near the farm, usually, so it's a rare event that never ceases to capture my attention. I give it a quick glance and find myself entranced in the bird, and it does nothing but fly off after a few moments. Just like all the others.

Rock collecting isn't very hard at all. Just break big rocks into smaller rocks or find a cluster of small rocks, roll them along on the ground, pile 'em up, and... That's it. Every time I go back in the house I leave a pile of rocks where I was working, and every time I leave the house the pile's gone. I don't really care what happened to the rocks or where they went, but it's pretty weird how they just up and disappear like that. The pile I have right now is almost as big as I am after just a couple hour's work, which is a new speed record for me. I look over to my sisters and see they've done nearly four times as much as I have. Guess they're just more motivated than I am.

Rock collecting continues until noontime, then we eat another bland, tasteless meal. I've never figured out how to tell time during the day; it's just too cloudy to see the sun, and we don't even have any clocks. Half of the trees are dead, there are no animals around for miles, no other ponies or towns, no nothing. There are simply rocks to break down, rocks to gather up, and rocks to just let lie to be broken down and gathered up another day. It's back to work after lunch, and there's always that expected surprise of finding my rock pile gone. I always leave that place alone and go somewhere else, somewhere with more rocks. I have to get as many rocks as possible, hopefully more than my sisters. It's a game I never win, and one they probably aren't even aware of. But still, a game's a game.

Another few hours of rocks and dirt, and it's time for dinner, time for more food. After dinner we clean the house and wash ourselves, and after that is nothing. Rest, my parents like to call it, but I'm never even tired. They relax from a hard day's work, though I never actually see them working. I hardly see them at all, come to think of it. I hardly see my sisters, either. They're always working off in the distance, working as a two-foal team. A team that I apparently can't join. So I turn to look at them. They're not really doing anything, either. They just seem to be... Resting, which is weird. They don't seem all that tired, or sweaty, or out of breath, but they're resting nevertheless.

That doesn't matter to me, though. They're all my family, I love them, and they love me. I don't understand how they can possibly stand living like this, and I don't understand what they could possibly be thinking at any given time. I don't think they understand me, either. Other than that one party the day I got my cutie mark, they've shown very little emotion. No excitement when I show them a sparkly gem I found, no relief when the daily quota's met early, no nothing. I threw a party just last week to see some type of anything in them, but nothing shone through their apathy.

So I spend the hours of rest doing nothing. I've debated with myself whether or not doing nothing is actually resting countless, but that always leads to the only option I have when arguing with myself: Escape. Sure, I can't really shoot a cannon at somepony like in my dreams, but I can at least shake my head a few times to clear my thoughts. Sleep would definitely help in that respect, but I can't. I'm not allowed to sleep during resting time for whatever reason, even though sleeping is resting. I just watch the clouds move or the few leaves clinging to the dead trees rustle in the wind, and sometimes a fly buzzes around my head and I make a game out of catching it. But then the time comes for the five of us to sleep, and we each head off into our rooms for the night.

Every night since Granny Pie gave it to me and I began the tedious task of polishing it, I take out my rock mirror and gaze at my reflection. The pink of my coat and the blue of my eyes seem to stand out amidst the grays and browns of everything else. There's a little glob of dirt stuck on my cheek; I reach up and brush it off. Not much else to do now, but sleep. I close my eyes, and I can feel my mane puff out slightly. It's just as excited as I am, looking forward to the rush of adrenaline that always flows through me in my dreams. While my body relaxes and my mind empties itself to prepare for sleep, a smile tugs at my lips as Ponyville rushes out to greet me.