Nothing Exciting Ever Happens Here

by Blank!

A Filly Named Andromache

Some people like to say that I'm smart. "Genius", they call me. "Andromache, you’re just gifted". A "Prodigy". Nonsense. Utter nonsense. It consoles them, in their comfortable, numbing mediocrity, to think that I'm just better than them, that there is some goddess-given gap between us that cannot be bridged. I'm not better than them. It's all hard work, or, to be precise, deliberate practice, and constant training, ceaseless self-improvement.

My grades are better than theirs because I like to study, and I've studied for much longer than them, because my father, who is an engineer at the Rainbow Factory, got involved in my education as a kid, and taught me so much about numbers and things and people. Because he encouraged me and praised me and believed in me.

I'm more athletic than them because my mother was a champion flier, and I wanted to be more like the one person in the world that I looked up to the most.

I'm better organized because, early on, I encountered a teacher who pointed me towards the cutting-edge of time-management and self-discipline research, all summed up in convenient, practical books.

And, perhaps most importantly, my parents always encouraged me to improve, to top myself, to do better, always believed in me, and always, always had my back.

I was lucky, yes, and fortunate. My parents, my upbringing, that was my gift. There's no such thing as "an ability to improve more with less effort". There is no talent, only hustling, and those too lazy to commit to it.

No, that's an unfair thing to say. And unkind. And untrue. Some people have the will to work, but do so with the wrong mindset. Some people have the will sapped out of them by discouragement, and harsh, unfair criticism, and environments that just aren't receptive to their accomplishments.

And then there's this colt. I can't figure him out. His name's Mustang. He's black. An unusual color, for an Equestrian pony. Makes him seem plain, at a distance, if not outright too formal. But if you look close, you notice the hues and the shades and the reflections. The potential. And he's one of the very few ponies that are receptive to my help and my advice. Definitely the only one who seems to actually like me...

He takes it, too. My advice. I've seen him making his to-do lists, pacing himself in races, organizing his timetable. But his results don't improve as much as statistics say they should. If he weren't always so diligent, I'd think he's holding back! Like he's somehow trying to give teachers just what they want and not an ounce more. But why would he do this? And, what's more, something seems to be eating him up inside.

Every day, he looks more strained, drained, empty... There's a reprieve in the weekends, where his dark mood seems to improve... But every Moonday he's more... tenuous... more extenuated than the last. I hate to intrude, but I'm going to have to ask. Otherwise, at this rate, there's no telling what could happen to him... And, without him, even though I'd still have my parents... If I lost him, I'm not sure I could go on like this myself...

He hasn't showed up to school today. Maybe he's caught a cold? It would be extremely unusual for a pegasus. I'm just hoping it was nothing serious. Either way, as his friend (and as class representative) I need to make sure to bring him his homework and help him with the courses he missed. Plus, it gives me an excuse to visit him at his house...

Comments

[SteampunkBrony]

is anyone else getting the 'coke bottle glasses, but manages to make it look good while kicking ass' vibe with this one? either that or the 'hu- er... pony calculator?'

either way, this is an interesting read, keep it up.

[Blank!]

867968 I don't really get this post, but thanks, I guess.

[SteampunkBrony]

868932

eh, from the looks of things I was really tired, i don't even remember writing that