Words have always failed me, or perhaps I have always simply failed them. I am one of the few that others would like to be known as the “voiceless” the “mute” the “dumb.” That last one I hold great loathing for, as I have heard it many times throughout my lifetime. In the end, it didn’t matter, I proved them wrong. A pony can have no voice, be unable to speak fluently, and yet, they are not voiceless. You can always still be heard.
As a foal, I was the middle kid, old enough to not be in the way, young enough to be useless. It was not my parents fault, nor was it my siblings, it would be childish, foalish, foolish, to blame them for how my fate’s thread decided to weave. My parents tried to give me what I wanted, what they thought I needed, but I was from a large family, and often the quiet, well-behaved one is the one forgotten in the chaos. My older siblings would be called upon to help bring harmony to the hectic pace that constantly echoed out in my household. My younger siblings often played the role of Discord in each their own style, whether through pushing buttons until each own’s NightMare came snapping out, just for a laugh, or by pushing to get their own way through nonsensical troll logic for a trivial thing. I was unable to be of help, but I did not wish to be of bother either- So often I was forgotten in the battle that everyday brought forth, often fighting my own as emotions would build up, unable to escape through words, voice, shout, cries- And I refused to resort to destruction just to release them, as my baby sister so often would, her already audible rage becoming solid in the shards of porcelain, or balls of plush-toy stuffing that would soon cover the floor around her.
As school came and went, I found that other fillies and colts could be just as cruel, chaotic, uncaring, snippy, bratty, destructive as my own siblings. No-one wished to even try and hear me, help me find a voice somehow... No there was one, honest in her failure. A single teacher, she truly did try her best, but once again, it would come down to those that wanted the attention, needed it, and demanded it. Attention is forced to be diverted by chaos, there is no choice in that. The simple act of Ignoring can be either water or gasoline on their fires, and when one failed the other was deployed. I was amazed by that mare in a way, how she always held her smile and patience even when a saint would be ready to snap. She truly had found her own path, and I often wondered if I would find mine.
Was it a path, or a voice I wanted? Sometimes I didn’t know. A voice could surely provide a path through the canned anger, fear, frustrations, sorrow, loneliness, despair, estranged joy, and unspoken pride. It all became so muddled so easily, and it would make my head ache until my vision blurred.
It’s funny, in hindsight, that on my worst day- After being called “dumb” no less that seventeen times by my classmates and neighbours, their tone indicating each and or every definition of the word, I had ran off, unable to release my pent-up emotions, I was trying to escape them- I had found the solution in a veiled encouragement from a stallion I had never seen before that day.
“Don’t worry boy, Time will show you the path you so greatly deserve. Ya just need to trust her.”
A brown stallion with a darker mane, a cheery accent that didn’t quite fit any area, clapped me on the shoulder and encouraged me to wipe away my tears with such simple words. Perhaps it wasn’t even the words themselves, but the sheer confidence and trust, and even pride, that he said them with. There was something to be believed about those words, and I took it whole-heartedly.
When I faced my classmates again the next day, I ignored them best as I could, chin in the air and determinedly ploughing on. I knew not, then, what exactly I would find ahead, but I held faith that it would be what I had been looking for. It would be prudent, false, foalish, to say that that solved everything. It didn’t. Some days, it made it worse. It was a simple thing, though, and sometimes it is those simple things that allow us to move forward even when a greater thing wouldn’t.
That winter, when I was playing outside when I shouldn’t have been, I found the path that the stallion had told me of. It was not written, created, or forged, it was simply there and ever-changing, and was about to sweep me up into itself.
My siblings and I had had a most magnificent fight, and if you think that can’t be accomplished without words, you are quite mistaken. Blows, glares, destruction and thievery say far more and far worse than angry words said without thought ever could. Perhaps due to the fact that it requires so much more movement to destroy a precious toy, kick a beloved book into the fire, or even slap a sibling across the cheek than it does for your tongue to make the few quick motions it takes to call a name. Looking back, I could not tell you what even occurred then, or what it was about. It was no doubt some idiotic dispute that older and wiser ponies could have avoided. Then again, perhaps not, as it seems that foolish arguments and brain-numbing misunderstandings will always exist, but that is not really the point, as irritating and perhaps even distressing as it may be.
In the end, I had ended up outside with a storm brewing. The weather had never frightened me, as I felt a sort of connection to it. Even in a blizzard's rage, as the wind whipped up the snow and ice to blind and chill the ponies around me- In the calmer moments I could see a dancer cloaked in glittering soft crystals inviting me to dance… In the fiercer ones, a dragon to be tamed. I unfolded my small wings to feel the breeze, to discover they weren’t so small anymore. It was an odd sort of revelation, as they had, of course, slowly grown over the course of the summer, and not just suddenly poofed magically large in a single night. It was the sort of revelation that made one wonder opportunities, for the wings that did little good other than making an odd noise when I was mad beyond reason, suddenly felt like they had strength- And as the dancer very suddenly pulled me into her embrace, I found exactly how much strength that was.
All the strength I ever needed.
For all at once, I was in the sky, swept up in it’s brilliant embrace, its paths ever-changing as the winds and currents shifted as they pleased. Suddenly, everything seemed insignificant, and I felt completely free as I danced with the snow and dove between the dragon’s jaws. It was foolish and dangerous, but it was freedom, and I needed it dearly. Even long after I landed to be ushered into my Mother’s worried embrace, I still held the peace the sky had given me, in all its ferocious glory. I would return to it, time and time again, letting it wash away all my dark thoughts and chaotic emotions, my muddled mind and heavy heart, restoring my sanity and bestowing upon me a bliss that is indescribable. As I got older, it even gave me a voice.
As a teenager, I quickly found how to mold the beauty of the sky with a simple movement or a quick dash, how a sweep of feathers could carve a cloud, or a powerful stomp bring out the drumming roll of thunder. For the quiet moments, the deeper thoughts, this was good… And yet there was something even greater still in the speed and freedom that my wings lent me with the sky as my ally.
Passion and joy would be heard in a fierce and fast dance, my lithe form against the blue would write it for all to hear. Anger was audible and awesome in a ferocious swoop that would dispel clouds into black mist, and sorrow and hope spoken in a heart-rending dive that pulled up to new heights at the end.
A voice, all I ever wanted. For ponies to notice me, envy me, speak of me, care for me- Look up to me. In particular, there was one pony, whose attention I desired above all else. I pushed things harder, strove for things greater, in an attempt to earn her attention. As you and I both know, great things are achieved when one pony strives to become better for somepony else.
In that moment, when everything else is cast aside for that one desire, to become better for a pure reason, anything can happen, even the impossible. The fierce desire to become greater than somepony to prove them wrong who hurt your friend. The terrifying and begging wish to become better to save somepony dear, you know these feelings well, and you surpassed the impossible to achieve them.
Despite your ego, your brashness, your blunt tongue, your foalish pride, we share the desire to have everypony hear our true voice. We have that one pony whom we will never cease to try and earn their attention, and with every passing breath, we will become greater to achieve that.
So, Rainbow Dash, although it is usually Spitfire’s honor to introduce a new member into our fold with an unnecessarily long winded speech, and I have to present this to you in written form-
I welcome you with great joy into The Wonderbolts.
Knock’em dead.
-Wave Chill
