An Excerpt from Twilight Does(n't) Cuddle

I mean for Twilight Does(n't) Cuddle to mirror Celestia Isn't Lonely.

A spiritual prequel, what have you.

But I can't nail that same emotional rhythm. I kinda get. Twilight shouldn't have the same centered maturity of Celestia. And I realized it's because Twilight's story is hauling more weight than Celestia's. Twilight's assumption of self, quoted below, is awkward and frantic and flimsy to mimic her own emotional state. Awkwardly needy. Which would be fine to roll with if it was a solo story but it's not.

Compared to Celestia's assumption of self, it looks like a poor imitation and I can't get over it. It sucks.

Plus I want to win a contest. This contest.

So I'm thinking 'cut it out,' but since I'd spent a day and a half drafting it over, I still wanted to post it in some form.

For Twilight, affection itself has become like a cup she isn't allowed to put down. Irrational. Irrelevant. It asks nothing of her mentally. It isn’t a puzzle. It isn’t a spell. It isn’t the latest disaster to hit Equestria this week. Twilight cannot fathom why, why now she’s gone soft to it. Gone weak. Affection deserves the same senseless input she would devote to a cup. Lift. Hold. Drop.

Ta-da! Wasn’t that the deal?

Awkward ritualistic fumbling to earn what, touch? And what was touch? A metric devised from pointless physical stimulation. Family owns it. Friends share it. Foals need it. Pets give it. Lovers take it. But-! Hasn’t she outgrown this unnecessary pathological commitment to skin-on-skin contact?

As a foal. As a pony. As a alicorn. But, even so, she craves it. It pules through her equine hooves.

For Twilight, affection is an affliction.