Her.
I stand before the enormous library, thinking only about her.
For the better part of my life, the quiet girl with the purple hair has consumed my thoughts. Her violet eyes, like portals into a different world; her demeanor, like that of someone who knows all the secret ins and outs of life but is too afraid to talk about it with anyone. She has the most kind expression, like someone who understands where she is, and has no intention of using anyone else to advance herself. Of course, I could be making all this up. I have no idea what goes on inside her head. What I do know is that since the day I first laid eyes on her, I have wanted to be her confidence. I have wanted to be her voice, the one she spoke to about all the millions of tiny things that happened in her mind.
I do, in all honesty, love her quite so.
I have my doubts as to whether or not she even knows I exist - and this is a fairly common issue, I have been told - but that is no reason for me not to try to make her acquaintance. In fact, that is the whole reason I am here standing in front of the library. Tonight is the night, I promised myself, when I would learn to understand the beautiful but quiet young girl that is Twilight Sparkle.
I take a steep breath in, and a breath out. Steam flows from my mouth as I exhale. My fingers twitch, and I notice myself become rather jittery. My entire body is shivering. When did I become so giddy? I feel my heart jump for joy in terror, and I begin to suspect my trembling might not be entirely due to the cold. Nerves, that must be it. I'm nervous. Excited to finally properly meet Twilight Sparkle, but terrified that I will make a fool of myself.
I hesitate no longer. My hand presses against the wrought iron gate of the library and it creaks inward, allowing me space to enter the yard. Moonlight splashes across my face through a crevice in the clouds. First my shoes are clacking across the cobblestone path. Then they are clacking against the concrete steps. I pull my leather jacket tighter around myself as the nip of the dark winter night penetrates my clothes.
The library before me is familiar in the daylight, but in the darkness of night it seems alien, like nothing I have ever seen before. The large oak door towers over me, set solidly into its granite frame. Through the shimmering glass of the door's viewing port I spy a single lantern upon a table within. She must still be awake and studying! My hand begins to tremble again as I lift my arm, take the heavy brass knocker up in my fingers, and slam it three times upon the door.