There are things every mare wants to accomplish in her life, and I’ve never been one to stand apart from the crowd, really. I want the same things as any of my friends. Rarity’s just the loudest about it, but I’ve seen Fluttershy makin’ eyes at Big Mac. It’s sweet, I think, but it ain’t my business to say.
I really thought that’s how it ought to be. I don’t meddle unless invited, and even then I felt folks should work out their own way in the end. Those sorts of things were never my best subject. Feelin’s, y’know. Relationships. I was never the sort’a pony with the time to ponder about who I ought to be kissin’.
I was never the sort’a pony with the time to ponder about who I ought not be kissin’, neither, but... well. There I was all the same. Because the honest truth, the only truth I never dared speak aloud in my life, was that I put a lot more time into thinkin’ on the latter.
And it ate at me.
There was always an assumption that I’d meet somepony at a festival. Or at an auction. Somepony might come around askin’ for me. Maybe I’d bump hooves with a flashy stallion at the Gala, and he’d be taken by my country charm.
Whenever anyone got to hypothesizin’ about my future as a wife, I gave them what they took to be modesty. I’m married to my work, I’d say, and that the only buckin’ I’m interested in is the sort for gettin’ apples outta trees.
That usually got a laugh. A part of me dreaded the day it didn’t, fillin’ me with a fear I couldn’t confront alone, and remindin’ me that, for the most part, I would have to.
Bein’ different can sometimes put a pony in a lonely place. I felt like my family had set me on a shelf next to all these expectations-- “Someday you’ll have a little filly scamperin’ around to help you on the farm,” and other such things that stung my heart with guilt and shame.
It wasn’t such an empty place as I’d always thought loneliness must be; dreams and nightmares, neither somethin’ I wanted to talk about with anypony. I knew what they’d think, ‘cuz I knew what I was thinkin’.
I wasn’t the element of Honesty for nothin’, though. Sometimes, with me, the truth came spillin’ out regardless of whether I want it to or not.
* * *
I reached the end of my rope when I woke early one mornin’. As per usual, I didn’t know whether or not I was still dreaming after first strugglin’ out of the dream. My blinds were drawn, and my wide eyes took in zero light-- it was still dark out. Applebloom and Big Mac were snorin’ away in their respective bedrooms, so I knew it must be before seven. Granny’s room was silent, so I knew she was up already. She woke at five-thirty AM without fail.
Great, I thought. Five hours of rest. Better’n I’ve been gettin’, I reminded myself.
My eyes began to drift closed, but I knew I wouldn’t be gettin’ any more rest. Snippets of the dream went slidin’ across my vision. I’d blink them away, but they’d re-assemble and slide back.
Pink and purple mane, brushed back gently by my hooves-- blink.
Lean in, inhale fresh lilac. Ink. Books. Blink.
Lean in again, and-- blink, blink, blink, blink, blink.
I couldn’t do it anymore. Celestia forgive me, but I was so, so tired of wakin’ each night to images I couldn’t stand. It drained me emotionally as it did physically to sleep so little and to spend all of it dreamin’ of somethin’ I ought not.
The only other thing that feels this awful, I thought to myself, is lyin’. It then occurred to me that maybe the way to solve the problem would be by tellin’.
Tearin’ the bandaid off to give the injury some proper air. That sort’a thing.
That’s how I found myself starin’ up at Golden Oaks Library with apprehension befittin’ of the weather. It was a misty Sunday mornin’, and light had only just started to glow against the bottom edge of the uniformly gray sky. Above me, a warm light peeked out from between soft purple curtains. I knew that just inside, Twilight Sparkle, unicorn genius extraordinaire, was either pacin’, readin’, or snoozin’ with her face tucked inside a tome.
I raised a hoof, gently knockin’ on the wooden door. The rest of Ponyville lay dead silent. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaves of the library. Then, from inside, I caught the sound of small, shufflin’ footsteps.
Spike pulled the door open, lookin’ up at me with his little dragon eyes all bleary with sleep. “Applejack?” His voice was quiet and hoarse.
“Yeah, Spike, it’s me. Is, uh-- I saw Twilight’s light on, so I--” I frowned, crossin’ my hooves nervously. “That is, uh, can I see Twilight?”
I cursed my betrayin’ tongue as he nodded, makin’ no comment on my poor speech. “Yeah, sure, she’s upstairs in her r-r-room,” he said, yawnin’ over his words. “We were up working on a spell for Rarity. She ordered some fabric, special from Canterlot, and after, like, six weeks of waiting, it all showed up.” His face turned as stern and serious as a sleepy baby dragon’s could, looked me right in the eye, and went on after a dramatic pause: “In the wrong color.”
I beamed at him. “Spike, you’re a compassionate fella, you know that?”
He turned sheepish in response. “Yeah, well, I can’t actually do the spell myself. It’s not my sort of magic. Twilight’s the one doing all the work.”
I put a hoof on his shoulder. “Just listen to yourself carin’ about Rarity’s silly ol’ fabrics like it was affectin’ you directly. You care about how Rarity feels, and that’s compassion. Besides, it’s not like you’re not helpin’, right?”
“You’re darned right he’s helping,” said a cheerful yet tired voice from the oaken stairway. There stood Twilight Sparkle; her face bore a warm smile, and her tail and mane, usually straight and orderly, were unbrushed. “We finished most of the hard stuff last night. Getting the texture to stay the same was certainly tricky, wasn’t it, Spike? Good thing you thought of snipping off a corner so I’d have something to touch for reference, I never would’ve thought of that.”
Spike ducked his head to hide his grin and edged away from the door. His cheeks looked like they must’ve been burnin’ somethin’ fierce. “Twilight, it’s okay,” he protested half-heartedly. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
We giggled some at poor Spike’s expense, but there wasn’t nothin’ but true praise and appreciation in Twilight’s voice. I was put somewhat at ease by the tone of the chatterin’. It made me feel more sure of my decision to go to Twilight before anypony else.
“So, Applejack,” she asked me then. “What brings to you to my library at such an early hour?”
My voice threatened to wobble some more, but I managed a stiff answer. “I came to talk with you about a... private matter.” Catchin’ myself, I added, “no offense meant, Spike. I need, uh... stallion advice.”
I could’ve sworn I saw somethin’ in Twilight’s face at just that moment. It was an expression I couldn’t read, and it was gone in a flash. “Well then. Spike, would you mind getting started with breakfast..?”
“Uh, of course!” Spike smiled at us wide-eyed, lookin’ unsure. “Do you want anything special, since Applejack’s here..?”
Twilight waved a hoof at him, a distracted look in her eyes. “Oh, make whatever you feel like. Something sweet, maybe some lemonade, crepes... C’mon, Applejack, let’s have a mare-talk in my room.”
Twilight’s room, like almost everythin’ else about her, was organized and spotlessly clean. There was a small pile of books at the foot of her bed, but nothin’ else disturbed the peace of that magically maintained space. “So,” she said, turnin’ to face me. Straight and to the point. I of all ponies had to appreciate that quality in a mare. Or stallion, even.
I looked at her and adjusted my hat a bit. “So what?” I said. My playful toned sounded forced, but that was because it had been.
Twilight raised an eyebrow at me. “You came all the way into Ponyville to see me at six in the morning,” she retorted. I couldn’t help but blush a bit at that.
“So I did, so I did.” I scratched one hind leg with the other, lookin’ anywhere but into Twilight’s face. “About stallions. A stallion. Or, no,” I said, rememberin’ what I’d rehearsed, rememberin’ what I meant to say. It was frustratin’ havin’ it come out like rotten old apples, all mushed up after a heavy rain. “Stallions. Not stallions.”
Twilight was never one to get impatient with her friends when they came to her for help, and I was grateful for it. I admired that trait greatly, ever since she first came into my life-- into our lives, all six of us. Completin’ a set of elements. Addin’ a spark to our friendship. She watched me flounder without a criticizin’ remark or a demand to hurry up.
I felt so bad and good at that moment I wanted to cry right then.
“Not stallions,” I repeated. Then, in my pacin’ and fidgetin’, I looked up at her. “I don’t have dreams about stallions, Twilight. Not good ones.”
“Well, that’s not exactly surprising to me, but...Wait, you’re having nightmares?” Twilight’s ears perked up, and immediately her mind went into its rapidfire solution-buildin’ process. “I’m surprised Luna hasn’t popped in to do something. I know you wouldn’t come all the way here about nothing, so I wonder...” she trailed off. “Can you tell me a bit about these dreams?”
First, all I gave her was silence. I knew I wouldn’t be able to just ask for a spell that turns dreams off. Not right away, at least. “Well,” I started, lookin’ back down at my hooves once more, “I’ll be, uh, with a guy.”
“With him, as in...?”
“As in with him,” I said quickly, and Twilight flinched. More gently, I said, “S-sorry, I mean... I mean that implicitly. It’s just that I don’t... wanna be havin’ those dreams. It’ll be, uh, like I’m just there. Waitin’ for it to be over.”
Twilight’s focus on me was practically scorchin’ me on the spot. It pained me for her to be seein’ me get like this. I couldn’t meet her gaze-- I was sure my freckles would just burn right off and fall on the floor in front of me.
I pressed on. “And I hate it. I get scared. Is that what it’s gonna be like, to be married? Datin’, even? Is that what I gotta look forward to?” I forced my eyes up to Twilight’s face, and she looked mortified. My heart sunk. “No, no, I shouldn’t’a said anythin’.” I shook my head, feelin’ the regret come slinkin’ in, my pulse turnin’ to a hot, fast, painful beat.
“Oh, Applejack,” Twilight said, rushin’ over to me before I could back away and race down the stairs like I so desperately wished to. She pulled me in for a hug, and it was tight, sympathetic, and affectionate. So... honest. Twilight was such a good pony, I thought. Such a good, kind pony. “I always figured that you were... Did someone ever...? I mean, were you ever forced to--”
“No. Never. I promise, nopony’s ever laid a hoof on me like that.” I gave her a serious look.
She looked relieved. “Is that the only thing?”
I shook my head. The hard part was comin’ up, and I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t, I couldn’t.
Again, I got the odd feelin’ like I was tellin’ a lie-- but I wasn’t even speakin’.
Ah, well. If I’m in for a bit, I may as well be in for the bushel. “I don’t care for stallions, Twilight,” I blurted, catchin’ myself by surprise. It needed no explanation, but... goodness. Had an Ursa Major been sittin’ on my back, it’d have felt the same for it to get up and walk away. I let out a sigh I didn’t realize I’d been holdin’ in.
I couldn’t let myself feel that way for long, though.
“So, I’m guessing the other dreams...?” Twilight asked, seemin’ slightly uncomfortable.
My eyes went anywhere but to her face, and I paced the bedroom. “I don’t know what to do. ”
“What do you mean by 'do?’” Twilight looked sad, confused. “Applejack, it’s not like every mare likes stallions, or every stallion likes mares."
And like that, the floodgates burst open.
“They do when they got a farm to run and a family line to keep strong," I said. I thought of Big Mac and Apple Bloom. “Tellin’ my family I won’t marry is the same as tellin’ ‘em I’m quittin’ at the farm." The things I dreaded, the things I’d barely let my mind’s eye linger on, came spillin’ out like a waterfall.
I heard skepticism in Twilight‘s voice, and would have likely seen it in her face had I the nerve to glance upward. “That has to be an exaggeration, AJ."
It hurt to hear her say that, but of course she wouldn’t know. She was from Canterlot, where ponies were less... set in their ways. “It ain’t. Family comes first at Sweet Apple Acres. Some ponies are begginin’ to suspect that I’m... not right.”
Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Not right? Applejack--”
“Ponies from where the whole Apple family hails ain’t as open-minded as your Canterlot kin,” I said, cuttin’ her off. “There ain’t no room for forgiveness in the hearts of ponies who rely on your offspring to carry the family name and the family task. There ain’t one,” I raised a hoof, shakin’ it a little for emphasis, “not one... like me in my whole family. Don’t think I didn’t research before I came scramblin’ over here.”
I faced her, then, tryin’ to mask the hope in my voice. “So, Twilight, is there a... spell, or somethin,’ anythin’ I can do to just... stop?”
“Stop feeling?!” Twilight’s tone was flabbergasted. In response to my nod, she went on speakin’. “Applejack. No. I don’t think you understand what you’re asking of me.”
“I’d rather like nopony than like mares,” I practically spat. That put her to a good stop. Hearin’ it said aloud, really said, was at least a bit more soothin’.
After a moment of thought, Twilight spoke again. “Your family isn’t like that, AJ. You do this a lot, you know, building up their expectations in your mind and letting their imaginary feelings get to you.” She smiled at me, bittersweet. “I do it too. You know that.”
On one level, I knew she was right. Still, to hear her compare herself to me so easily, so candidly... Oh, Celestia, I knew what I wanted right then.
Most times, I don‘t believe life is inclined to give you what you want.
Twilight sighed. “It isn’t like you to hate something so arbitrary about yourself. It’s not fair to punish yourself for what you like, you’re not hurting anypony...”
A bit of me heard her reasonin’, but the rest was hesitant to let go of the fear. “That’s not what concerns those who get upset at ponies like me.”
She shook her head slowly. “You keep saying ‘ponies like me,’ and I keep thinking, ‘what, ponies like me?’” She pointed a hoof at herself, and my heart leapt. She went on. “‘Ponies like Fluttershy? Ponies like Mrs. Cake, Pinkie, Spitfire, or Applebloom?’ You’re no different from me, or from anypony else. It doesn’t matter who you love or how you want them to love you. You’re a pony with feelings.” Twilight took a deep breath and closed her eyes, finishing her outburst more quietly. “And sometimes you aren’t as subtle as you might believe.”
I wanted a lot of things at that moment. To vanish, to be at home, to have never come out there. My face was aflame with shame. She knew? How had she guessed? She’d never told me, warned me? “Thank you, Twilight,” I managed to say with a monotone voice. “Thanks for listenin’ to me. I’ve got to be gettin’ along, it’s about time to start the chores.” It was the first sentence I’d said all night without botchin’ my meanin’. It felt like nothin’.
I was down the stairs in a flash, tryin’ to beat the tears, knowin’ they were comin’. She didn’t need to say that last bit about knowin’. She didn’t understand. Not at all.
The door glowed purple, and I heard the lock snap shut. Whirlin’ around, I met Twilight’s eyes; they were unreadable, starin’.
I spoke. “Don’t test me, Twilight Sparkle. I wanted advice, I wanted help, and y’all just give me the same shame I can give myself. If-- if you can’t help me, then I can deal with it on my lonesome.”
“You don’t mean that, Applejack--”
“I mean it like I mean anythin’ else I say or do,” I said. My eyes felt hot, but my cheeks stayed dry. The sounds of Spike in the kitchen had come to a halt, but I didn’t much care that he was listenin’ in. “Like when I come to somepony in particular for a problem, it’s ‘cause I... I mean to say somethin’ by it. To trust that pony especially. I--”
I wanted to say it. I really, truly did. But nothin’ came out.
After half a moment, Twilight’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and her mouth formed a small oh. Then, gently, with only the slightest hint of frustration, she retorted. “For the Element of Honesty, you sure have a way of beating around the bush when it comes to your own feelings.”
Immediately, my anger dissipated, replaced by a growin’ guilt. She’d laid the blame on me without any harshness or anythin’, but we both knew what the score was.
I had overstayed my welcome by several minutes, at that point. I didn’t know what else to say besides a sheepish “yeah,” at which Twilight smiled a little. She looked sad.
For that one moment, I let myself realize that she was beautiful when she was sad, but only just for that moment. It was a step, I supposed. The next one was thankin’ her a bit more politely than I had before attemptin’ a dramatic exit.
“Everything’s all right between us,” she’d assured me. I’d nodded, hopin’ she was right. She wouldn’t let me leave ‘til I’d promised her I’d show my face ‘round Pinkie’s later in the day, like we’d planned. It was hard, sayin’ yes, knowin’ how the next few times I saw her would feel. I ain’t one to pass up a challenge, though.
The next step was returnin’ home. And as I ran in the warm mornin’ sun, the mist around me vanished like smoke. A lightness filled me-- relief, sweet relief, floodin' every inch of my body like I were a pegasus, soarin' through the clouds, well above all the problems and strife below.
* * *
You grow to think of somepony a specific way, and then you wonder how your life will ever let them fit when you’ve got to try to change it. That’s how everypony sees me, I expect. Unchangeable, unsurprisin’. I wondered, then, as my hooves kicked up dust on the path back to Sweet Apple Acres, whether lettin’ ‘em all see me as I am would be unsettlin’ for my friends and family. I wondered whether I’d be able to someday take somepony home for dinner with me, and have Granny pull me aside so as to tell me what a well-mannered, well-spoken young mare I’d found.
I didn’t think I could do anythin’ quite so bold for some time, but... well. Twilight had a point. It ain’t just bad to go on pretendin’ one way when the heart wants another; it’s unfair.
There are things every pony goes through in life, and I’m no exception. We all have heartache. We all want someone to love and to love us in return, and sometimes, it doesn’t go quite how we want.
But that’s all right. The world keeps on turnin’. The heart heals, the friendship perseveres, and the future doesn’t look so dark after the wonderin’ and the fear are put to rest.