Like a Caged Bird
I open my eyes and find myself in the familiar clutches of the iron bars. They surround me and snare me like a dragon’s paw. I stretch my wings, and they brush against the bars on either side. Huddling against myself makes it feel slightly bigger, but the sense of claustrophobia still remains.
Curious ponies stand outside. They tell me to leave the cage, as if it were a matter of simply squeezing through the tiny door and walking out. I remember doing that once, with the help of friends. I suspect it will not be so easy now, for they are elsewhere. They’re doing better things and talking to better ponies, I suppose.
The onlookers get bored and walk on. Maybe they hoped for some dramatic moment of triumph, where I leave the cage, slam the door, and never look back. One time, long ago, I had thought such a thing to be possible. I even thought I had done it last time, when my friends opened the door. Yet, like a seductress, the cage whispered in my ear. It offered me stability, a safe place to rest and suffer no more disappointments or doubt. So I, with my wounded pride, returned to its cold but familiar clutches, shutting the door on life outside.
I wonder what my friends would say if they were here. I want so badly to apologize for mitigating their efforts. But I suppose they wouldn’t understand the life of a caged bird.
A flash of blue rushes past, breaking me from my thoughts. My eyes follow the blur as she quickly climbs and then drops. Before she quite hits the ground, there’s a boom and a flash of prismatic light. By the time my eyes adjust, she’s turning back, toward the crowd of adoring fans.
One of them can’t reach her.
I slump in the cage. Oh, what it must be like to be her! Spreading one’s wings and flying higher, faster, farther than anypony has ever gone—that is the dream of a caged bird. But everypony knows that caged birds’ wings are clipped. They’ll never taste the sweet mountain air or feel the rush of the earth racing toward them, only to swerve at the last moment. They’ll never know the twin highs of adrenaline and oxygen deprivation from soaring above the clouds. No, we’ll only ever know the feeling of falling, no matter how hard we try and no matter how high we throw ourselves from.
Idly, I find myself rubbing one of my nastier bruises that covers almost half my chest. It’s a gnarled mess of yellow, with a purple that almost matches my mane. At least the cage keeps me safe. I have yet to bruise myself even once here. Peculiarly, the bruises never seem to go away either, as they would have on the outside. Here, I just sit and hurt.
The onlookers have all left to gawk at the pony who was—is still—my idol and inspiration. She deserves it more than me, I suppose. She performs amazing feats of speed and acrobatics that other ponies can only dream of. Me? I just sit in this cage and watch.
She drinks in the praise, strutting, bragging, gesturing wildly. Foals swarm her, begging for autographs that she’s only too happy to offer them. Before I was here, I would have been in the front of that line. A smirk creases the corner of her mouth as she talks to each foal. Despite the burning in my eyes, I smile a little. I’m genuinely happy for her.
That smile soon disappears, however. She’s searching for something. Or rather, someone. Her eyes scan the crowd, and her smirk turns into a frown. She says something I can’t hear and walks away from the other ponies, ignoring the confused looks and the glares of her fans.
I watch her walk around for a while. She calls out something, but she’s still too far for me to hear. She scratches her head, looking around frantically. At last, her eyes lock on me and she takes flight.
I’m frozen in place, not that it’s like the cage would let me go anywhere anyway. What would she want with me? I’ll never be as good as she is. I’ll never be worth something, or inspire a whole bunch of ponies the way she inspired me. I’m… broken.
I’m just a stupid crippled bird.
She grins as she approaches. She lands just outside the cage, and her hoof rattles the iron bars above the door.
“Heya, squirt!” She reaches out to ruffle my mane, but I shrink back. She frowns again. “What’s the matter?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m fine.” Turning away, I say, “Why don’t you just talk to your fans instead? I bet they’re pretty ticked that you just walked away.”
She snorts. “Yeah, they’re not happy.” She tosses her mane. “They’ll get over it. I’m talking to a friend right now.”
I just ignore that. She can’t mean it. My wings are pretty sore, though, so I stand and stretch them. To my surprise, they don’t touch against iron. I look up and see that the cage feels a little bit more spacious. The door reaches up to her chest now.
It’s then that my wings brush against the cage’s top. A weight sinks into my stomach. “Why would you want to be my friend? Aren’t you too cool for me?”
A smile forms, and she laughs just a little bit. “As if I could be too cool for you! You’re awesome! You can do all sorts of tricks on your scooter that I wouldn’t have thought of.”
The weight starts to lift, and I let a small smile appear.
Emboldened by my response, she continues. “I mean, I probably never would have thought of doing tricks on a scooter at all. Hay, I just thought of it as a way for non-pegasi to get around.”
Her words stab me. I collapse, feeling the cage press in on all sides.
“Er, I mean, before I met you, that is—” She drops her head and whispers, “Aw, feathers.” Her hoof touches my wing through the cage. I see her open and close her mouth a few times before her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry. I really suck with words, don’t I?” She laughs bitterly. “Y’know, as much as I complain about mushy stuff and everything… I care about about ya, squirt. It sucks to see ya so down.” She instantly shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t just suck. It… it gets me down. I don’t like to see ya talk bad about yourself.”
If I had any room at all, I probably would have looked away. “Well, what good is a pegasus who can’t fly?”
“There’s lots of good!” Her wings ruffle. “There’s more to being a pegasus than just flying. Hay, half the pegasi in Ponyville are weak fliers, and they get along fine. It doesn’t just matter what you can do, it matters who you are.” She sighs. “Maybe you can’t fly, but you’re an awesome friend. You really care about your friends.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think I’ve spent enough time with you lately. I never should have let you get this down.” There’s a pause, and I look up to see her wiping her eyes. “Scoots, do you still want to be my friend?”
My jaw drops. I struggle to stand. The cold metal chills me. It hisses at me. She’s lying. You’re no good. The time you spent out there only proves that. This is where you belong. As I look into Dash’s eyes, however, I have another thought. Maybe… maybe I’ve had the wrong focus. Maybe flying isn’t so important. As I stretch and approach the door, I smile. I don’t know for sure, but I’m sure as hay gonna find out.
“Who wouldn’t wanna be friends with the great Rainbow Dash?”
Her hooves clutch the bars of the door as she leans against it. “Heh. You’re pretty great too, kid.” She grins. “Now c’mere and give me a hug.”
Together, we open the door. The hinges squeal all the while, fighting my escape. Eventually, we open it all the way, and I walk through. With her help, I slam the door shut and turn away.
She picks me up, holding me tight against her. She blows a raspberry on my stomach and we both laugh. We collapse onto the soft grass. Turning to me, she smirks. “Do you want to fly?” She gets up and pats the empty spot on her back.
I almost accept, but I shake my head instead. Her jaw drops as a smirk of my own appears. “Nah. How about I take you on a scooter ride?”
She shrugs and climbs on behind me. “Sure. I mean, how bad could it—”
Her sentence is cut off when I take my first few kicks against the pavement. It’s not even as fast as I normally go when it’s just me, but I feel her hooves hold me just a little bit tighter. I cut off toward the skate park. She’s gonna eat her words for saying that scooters are for non-pegasi! I flap my wings, building speed. My laughter follows us all the while as I cherish being the fastest pegasus on wheels.
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Think lots of us have been in where she is in this story at some point. That feeling of inadequacy or hopelessness.
It resonated with me, that's for sure.
Well done.
4870935
Thank you!
P.S. I somehow missed this notification. Sorry!
Very, very nice. You captured her feeling well and that's how I've felt more than once in my life.
I really wish I could come up with something half-intelligent to say regarding this story, or even a clever witty remark, but I just cannot think of what I could say...
I read this story from the link in your blog post the other day, and I've read it several times since then. Again, I wish I could come up with more to say, but all I've really got to say is:
I knew there was a reason I decided to follow you. Stories of this quality are far too uncommon.
Thanks for writing!
[Clapping intensifies]
4881321
I had hoped I might be able to pull that off. It was a bit difficult; I haven't felt that low in a long time. The last time I can recall being even borderline depressed was in high school, which has already been... more than two years now.
Oh geez, I'm getting old.
4881325
I've heard things like this a few times and I still don't know what to say! I'm really, really glad you liked my story. 
Awe, shucks.
4881526 I had my fifteen-year high school reunion in 2012.
Not bad. Not bad at all. While the idea you used to surround the theme of this story is quite overused, it still stands to make the message just as powerful. However, a couple of things. Well, I suppose it's one thing, really. But it rather big, in my opinion.
See, when Rainbow started crying . . . it seemed so sudden. It was kind of thrust in there and told to do its job instead of it coming in on time for work and doing its job because it likes its job. I'm not saying the situation didn't deserve it, but it didn't FEEL very real. It lacked the proper emotion for something so paramount as that. It's an emotional crossroads between Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo, where the two will recompense, in a way.
However, it lacked enough dialogue between the two to make this work. It could have been better, but . . . what was going to be my point two was the thing she says after she wipes her tears. Now, there isn't anything intrinsically wrong with it, but it doesn't seem to fit overall. It's almost as sudden as her wiping her tears.
The main reason I am pointing these things out so heavily is because . . . depression doesn't necessarily work that way. The effect of the two things, I mean. Sure, people will be able to get over it for a bit, but it rarely takes a single conversation to pull someone "out of their cage." Especially at the level Scootaloo was at. It would have been far better had they had a longer conversation and maybe an argument. It would be able to solidify the point better.
Because, to me, it seems like the story itself is contradictory to the point Scootaloo made: you can't simply open the cage and leave it on a whim. And no matter if Rainbow helped or not, it certainly seems like it was a little too easy for her to get over it.
Take what you will from this. I may be a little too nitpicky because I've dealt with people with depression, and . . . I wish it were this easy. Sadly, the truth is far from it.
4881538
I can't be old, I'm not even drinking age yet 
It was a joke!
4881705 No, you most certainly are not old.
As far as depression goes, this is all so, so true....It touched me, right in the feels, the heart, because I can very much relate to this little piece of literature.
Well, very well, done. Several hundred thumbs up from me.
4881632
Fair enough. Dash did feel a little off, and I think I may have rushed that scene. To be honest, I didn't really want to write this because I didn't feel qualified. It's just that the idea wouldn't go away, so I wrote it to the best of my ability. It's very tricky to write about depression if it's not a constant presence in your life, which, for me, it hasn't been for years.
Your review kind of highlighted a concern I had, which is that I made depression seem too easy to get over. Obviously, that wasn't my intention. I probably should have picked a different metaphor or at least been more careful, since leaving the cage was more symbolic of not being constrained by depression than just not being depressed anymore. I did try to show depression as being more difficult by implying that she had "left the cage" before. The encouragement of friends does help people live with it, but I suppose it comes off as overly simplistic.
Overall, it perhaps wasn't the best way to handle it, and I certainly wouldn't call this my best piece of writing. I'll take this as a reminder to be very cautious with touchy topics, especially ones that I'm not a total expert on.
4881716
Several hundred? Wow, that's like an insta-feature!
I call hacks.
4881773
I thought the metaphor was perfect. However, like I said, the execution felt off. It still handled the theme very well, so don't count your losses yet.
I forgot to leave a comment earlier... So I wanted to say that this was a great story! Although, it could have been longer. But it still works. So good job!
4882319
Thanks! Glad you liked it!
Nice story. You've earned a fav!
4882612
Thank you! Glad you liked it!
Awesome fic! I can somewhat relate to this so I loved reading it. Like and faved.
I love how friendship helps Scootaloo forget her depression a little. It's very inspiring.
4882688 Welcome!
4883373
Thanks! Glad you liked it!
4883420
That's what I was going for.
4887344
Not the best story I've ever read, but I'll give it a thumbs up
4887344
I'm having a really hard time trying to figure out what to say in response to this.
I'm... not entirely sure any psychological implications apply to my stories. My stories aren't really about me, per se. The characters do have some aspects of my personality, especially when I have blank slate characters like Octavia or Lyra. Still, I can't recall writing anything that's actually happened to me, exactly as written. That's not to say it's not therapeutic (I've always loved creating my own stories!), but it's not really personal. I just write whatever story idea strikes me, and this one struck me hard enough that all other ideas left me for a while. I literally had to write it because it just wouldn't go away.
So, uh, I dunno what bits of psychoanalysis you want to gather from that. But yeah, I don't write to vent. It's always turned out ugly in the past.
Turns out that people don't like me writing about them, even if I don't do anything bad to their characters.
A really great little one shot. I can totally relate to the feeling of being trapped in a mental cage.
4888518
Thank you! Glad you liked it and found some personal connection to it
Thank you this was perfect, it's how I feel most of the time even with meds, if it isn't my depression it's some other issue & it all feels like a cage where the bars are layered so thick you can't tell what a happy life looks like.
4915031
Well, I hope you at least get a reprieve once in a while, like Scootaloo did. And it sounds like you liked the story, so I hope that helped, even if just a little bit.
4916759 It did and I did, saw V for Vendetta and in watching found a way to ignore the bars as if they were mere mental smoke stepping beyond them & destroying their source with truth & power.
4921747
Well, that's good! Glad things improved
This is how I feel when other people at school bully me. Sometimes I forget that other people have suffered worse, like Michael Morones. He was bullied so bad for liking MLP that he attempted to hang himself. It's always good to know that I'm not completely alone in this world.
Beautiful! I love stories like this. They're like a piece of art and not just a tale.
Fantastic job!
Wow. Throughout the story I could barely tell if Scootaloo's cage was metaphorical or real.
I totally understand what Scootaloo's talking about, though. I have self-doubt and insecurity just like her. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a cage where all of my confidence and potential is nothing. I'm glad I have friends who care about me the way Rainbow Dash cares about Scootaloo in this story, and family too, or else I'd be in that cage all the time.