In the past, I often used the figure of speech ‘between a rock and a hard place.’ As I looked back on my prior usage, I slowly began to realize how completely and utterly spoiled I was. While I’d been in plenty of awkward, unpleasant situations before, nothing even came close to this new level of damning complexity. Between a newly acquired case of acute agoraphobia and a premature ejac (er, sneezing) unicorn, the odds were not stacked in my favor. It had been a few days since that little incident, and if things were just a little awkward around the library, I’d suck it up and deal with it. Things are not, however, a ‘little’ awkward. It was like I had an invisible bassist following me around: every time I did something that could be even remotely misconstrued as erotic, the bassist would play the ‘bow-chicka-wow-wow’ rift and a certain lavender unicorn’s jaw would hit the floor. Yesterday for instance, I spilled a bit of orange juice on myself. As I’m not exactly rolling in piles of extra clothing at the moment, I quickly ran it under some water in the sink on the off chance it might stain. I turned around to see Twilight literally salivating with a dazed look on her face. And that hasn’t been the only time:

Pulling up the bottoms of my pants so they don’t get in the way of clipping my toenails?

Drool worthy.

Stretching in the morning and revealing a bit of midriff?

Trip and fall down the steps worthy.  

Smiling at her for making pancakes?

Well, there went breakfast.

It became clear that I had to get out of the library, at least for a little while. My motivations, however, were not so transparent. As amusing as Twilight’s reactions were, I knew I must have been rough on her. The poor pony had been paying an unpleasant cost to put her own emotions and needs aside for my sake, a total outsider. For me to stay around her constantly and pretend to be oblivious to her needs would just be cruel. Coming to that conclusion brought me to my next problem.

We had it all worked out on the second day; I would go jogging on the route Twilight had helped to draw out for me, making a beeline for the outskirts of Ponyville and then circling around and running along the edge of the Everfree forest, heading back when I felt I’d reached an acceptable halfway point. As for why I was jogging; well, if my introduction to Ponyville was any indication, I figured I needed to keep myself as fit as possible. I had already learned the hard way my only advantage in a chase here was agility and endurance. If I went out early enough, I’d run a very low risk of running into anypony, so the pros outweighed the cons. Twilight had volunteered to time me. As she gazed a little too intently at my low-to-the-ground starting position inside the library, I channeled my inner Balboa; visualizing my own little training montage and everything. I prompted her after about thirty seconds of pretending not to see her staring at my ‘flank.’

“Twi… “

“Oh! Sorry, right, GO!” And I was off, full speed all the way to the… doorframe.

The sensation was strange, it was like all the will and determination required to exert myself drained out of me the second my body realized I was trying to go outside. It wasn’t even dawn yet, from what I could see there wasn’t a single pony in sight, my route completely clear. So I backed up and tried again. No dice. After engaging in some psychology assisted deduction with Ms. Sparkle, we established that I had somehow acquired PTSD linked agoraphobia, better known as being a complete coward and not being able to go outside. It was then I realized that all my machinations of surviving a zombie apocalypse were meaningless: I hadn’t been chased by flesh-eating monsters, no; I had been chased by a group of adorable looking equines, who only came up to about my waist in height. Yet I had still come through psychologically scarred… by ponies.

Note to self: Would not do well in a zombie apocalypse.    

We tried a few more times, to no avail. Twilight was patient, but I was getting frustrated enough for both of us. Suddenly my shoes had to be retied, or I needed a drink first, or Twilight was looking at me funny (when she was always looking at me funny.) It was like trying to break through a locked door composed of anxiety, apathy, and ADD. And she really was looking at me funny.

“Maybe we’re talking the wrong approach.” Twilight suggested thoughtfully.

“How so?” I asked, softly bumping my head against the doorframe a few times.

“Well look at you: you’re not taking your starting position anymore and you're not picking up nearly as much speed as you were.” While I don’t take criticism well in general, I had to admit she was right. My enthusiasm had run out the door in my stead.

“Okay, I see your point.” I assumed the starting position again, my legs complaining at the sheer repetition of the act. I looked down, instead of straight ahead, focusing my eyes on the hardwood floor.

“Wait!” Dammit, another false start. “Let’s see what shifting your weight around might accomplish. If we set up your pose the right way, we might be able to remove your counter-balance so won’t be able to stop before you’re already out the door.” I was desperate at that point.

“Sure, fine, anything.”

“First, close your eyes so you can’t estimate the distance.” I complied, though my subconscious cheerily reminded me that it was, in fact, about three steps to the door. My subconscious could be a real jackass.

“Go down on the knee of your back hoof, so you’ll have to launch yourself.”

...Done.

“Now… arch your back…  yeah… just… a little… more…” When I realized the quiver in Twilight’s voice had been reminding me of Herbert from Family Guy, I almost fell over. I had fallen for the ‘comeer sweetheart let me teach ya how to swing a tennis racket’ routine.

“Hmm... maybe… we should try a few practice launches, very slow ones-“

NOPE

“No-thanks-I’m-good-say-go-please” I interrupted her through grit teeth, words blending together. My eyes were still shut, but I know I heard her sigh disappointedly.      

“GO!” I rallied my willpower for one final attempt, counting the steps.

One… Two… Three…

TRIP

I wasn’t terribly surprised by the results. To her credit, Twilight’s ‘pointers’ actually got me farther out the door than I’d managed to get on my own. I just wasn’t in any state to go running. We had theorized that this was a self-created barrier I had to push past. We had been wrong. The door was the proverbial frying pan and Ponyville was the fire. I’d not had an asthma attack since middle-school, but there I was, splayed on my stomach less than a foot in front of the door frame, gasping like all the oxygen had been sucked out of my surroundings. Other than the anxiety, I was just plain pissed. I’m a perfectionist by nature, and my time thus far in Ponyville had been anything but perfect: now I couldn’t even get out a damn door to go running, an activity I barely even like. It was too much for me to deal with combined with the sensation of being submerged in a sea of anxiety. I was gasping for breath, and in a moment of weakness my mind was displacing the frustration onto Twilight.

Why is she not doing anything? She’s... She’s watching... she’s enjoying this- Having a panic attack look ‘hot’ to you too? Enjoy, you -

A gentle tug stopped the venom before it could seep out; In the process, I realized that the harsh telekinetic field from the other day must have been a product of haste. I was levitated much more gently than before, lifted just enough so that my back didn’t impact the bottom of the doorframe, the force carefully pushing me up to a sitting position once I was inside. My anxiety diminished, but the lack of oxygen and frustration remained, though I was now only frustrated at myself.

It’s a strange sensation being hugged  from behind by a pony. Despite their small size, it’s almost heavier than being hugged by a human because they have to place more direct body weight on the top of the recipient’s shoulders to stay upright. Twilight’s embrace was like an over the shoulders harness, imbuing a similar sense of security.

“Breathe… you did fine, we made progress, just breathe. There’s always tomorrow.” Her voice was genuine, free of ulterior motives. Oxygen made a merciful reappearance and the anxiety seeped out of me, leaving only a growing sense of guilt at how coldly I had thought of her…  Where did that even come from, anyway? A few minutes past, before I became overly-conscious that the unicorn had yet to release me. I was just about to gingerly disentangle myself from her hooves when she beat me to it, trotting up the stairs without looking back. I kicked the doorframe irritably. I didn’t know what I felt, other than pathetic. It was awkward for me to be around her and it was obviously difficult being around me.

For the millionth time that day, I thought about how much I needed to get out of the library and clear my head.

I settled on dragging half a dozen books upstairs with the intension of bunkering down in the ‘terrarium.’ And by terrarium, I mean the guest room, which Pegasi ponies liked to treat as their own personal zoo. The situation constantly reminded me of Planet of the Apes. I wish I was kidding. The sliding glass door/window led to a miniature balcony, or, as the Pegasi would have called it, a perch. Closing the curtains worked fine for the first day. The second day, I started getting a little stir crazy, missing the outdoors and the sunlight, so I opened the curtain… which proceeded to break beyond repair as soon as I touched it, naturally. I had originally dealt with the lack of privacy by staying out of the room as much as possible, an option no longer viable with the current state of awkward. I covered up with a blanket and grabbed a book, mentally steeling myself.

So it begins.

If it was anything like the previous day, the battle occurring on the fields of my sanity would be deceptively calm at its onset. My foes would wait until I was engrossed in my task, striking only when I was inches away from tranquility. Even now, they circled, shadows in the sky, waiting for me to drop my guard. They would be sorely disappointed. I could feel their eyes on me, I knew their game; they would attack the second my mind wandered. Only vigilance, skill and perseverance would carry me through. I would welcome the battle, embracing it, laughing maniacally into this raging onslaught from the very gates of hell itself.

Huh. It’s like they completely gloss over the reason why Luna was banished-

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP

Well, hello to you too! I will not be lowering my book. I’m going to finish reading about the early history of Equestria. I am a woman of discipline, and will not fall for such petty-

TAP TAP … TAP TAP TAP

Syncopation will not alter my resolve-

TAP…TAP…TAP…TAP  TAP-TAP

No, the rhythm doesn’t remind me of a particular famous Queen song. Your petty attempts to rouse me are but raindrops in the sea. I am at one with the-

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAPATAPATAPATAPATATAPTAPTAPTAPTAP

“GOD DAMMIT” I threw the book, altering my trajectory just in time so it struck the wall instead of the window. I got a little surge of glee as it appeared the offending Pegasus might lose her balance, tipping over the side from the sudden noise and movement, but that would have been far too fortuitous. Rainbow Dash (and of course it would be Dash…) recovered her balance, sticking her lower lip out and pointing at the latch.

Not going to happen.

To the day I die, I will never tap on an animal’s cage again. I raised my book, only to have another tap on the window remind me how impossible reading would be. Dash continued with the pouty lip, pushing her face up against the glass and touching a hoof to her chest painfully. It would be absolutely heartrending, adorable, and endearing… had she not just tried to tackle me the other day. I jotted something down in big letters on the back of the paper I was taking notes on. I wasn’t expecting her to get the reference, so it was more for my entertainment than hers. I held the paper up: How much is that doggy in the window?

Note to self: It is an egregious offense to refer to a pony as any animal less intelligent than a pony.

Dash glowered at me with the same sort of look I would have had if someone had called me the C word. Oops. I was almost feeling guilty enough to at least crack the window so I could apologize for my accidental violation of pony social norms when I was treated to another lesson on Equestrian customs: Dash, still glowering, turned around slowly, flank facing towards me. Her back arched; I thought she was about to take off when her tail suddenly flicked up as she pressed up against the-

-AFTER THE CONFLICT A THOUSAND YEAR PERIOD OF PEACE BEGAN, WITHIN WHICH CELESTIA’S LEADERSHIP MANAGED TO NARROWLY OUTLAST AN ESCALATING HOOVES RACE WITH THE DRACONIC EMPIRE, A CONFLICT WHICH WAS CENTERED AROUND THE PROLIFERATION OF ALICORN TEARS AND THEIR

Tap.

I peered over my book slowly, hoping the tap meant Dash had finished her retribution. Naturally, she had not, having tapped with her back hoof, still pressing her flank against the glass and offering an in depth look at her- 

-MASS STOCKPILING, EXCESS STOCKPILING ALSO LED TO THE MODERN DAY SCARCITY OF ALICORNS, THE DRACONIC EMPIRE WAS NEARLY AS POWERFUL IF NOT MORE POWERFUL THAN EQUESTRIA BUT EVENTUALLY COLLAPSED DUE TO THE FAILURE OF ITS OWN FLAWED ECONOMIC-

Tap Tap.

I really needed a new curtain. When I finally worked up the backbone to look, Dash had ended her little expose, much to my relief. She was still glaring at me though, hoof held back as if to say ‘I will tap again if you try to ignore me.’ I closed my book with a sigh. Whatever it was that had gotten under her skin wasn’t going away, neither was she, and I might as well play nice on the off chance I ever managed to breathe and go outside simultaneously. Other than that, there was the whole part where she had technically saved my life. She’d done a few things since then, sure… but she saved my life nonetheless.  I walked over and opened the side window enough for her to stick her head through, preparing to greet savior and assailant with my typical diplomatic poise.

“The hell do you want?”

“’Hell,’ do you want?” She emphasized the expletive, confused

“I don't know, you’re the one who was tapping on the window.” I smiled for the punchline, and in response she only looked more lost. Har har Kate. Very funny; it’s like a knock knock joke, except its only funny to you, since the pony has no way of knowing what you’re talking about. Good show darling, good show indeed.

I swear, sometimes it feels like my inner monologue is trolling me. Rephrasing, I imbued my speech with the grace and cultural sensitivity this pony deserved.

“What do you want?

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so in the first place!” Dash paused in sudden contemplation as if she had completely forgotten what her original reason for barging in was. “Ah, got any water? I’m parched” she asked sheepishly. Well, now I feel like a bit of a jerk.

“Sure, hold on.” I walked back towards the bed, grabbing the cup of water off my nightstand and wiping the rim with my tanktop. I placed it down in front of her on the window pane, making a slightly more noticeable effort to be friendly before turning around to grab a chair. It was an effort which, for reasons I was unsure of, failed miserably. When I turned back with the chair, Dash, with a single foreleg inserted  through the narrow side window, was looking at me like I was the biggest bully in the world, her face scrunched up in an expression that said ‘WHO DOES THAT?’

“Er. Oh” I looked at the hoof, and then the cup, taking far too long to realize the monumental ass I had made out of myself. The pony does not have opposable thumbs, and is not a unicorn. For her next act, ladies and gentlemen: the clairvoyant Kate Winsor will go to an orphanage and ask little Timmy what time his parents are picking him up. I really needed to work on applying logic to the real world. “Oh god I’m really sorry, Here let me hand you- Actually would a bowl be-” I stopped myself just in time. I meant well, but I realized any further discussion of a bowl would most likely be seen as very demeaning, which was something I intended to avoid considering her reaction to the dog comment.

“No, I just couldn’t reach it. If you can just hoof that cup to me through the window that’d be fine.” Her response was surprisingly cordial, considering my unintended rudeness. Curious, I handed it to her, wondering if my assumption that I violated some sort of Fox and the Stork cultural insensitivity had been incorrect. I was only partially wrong. While she couldn’t fit both forelegs through the narrow side window, with enough room she could actually drink in a human-like manner if she used both fore hooves to hold the cup, almost like her hooves had some sort of static cling. It still looked awkward, as she had to use the balcony to prop herself up.

“Sorry about the cup thing, still getting used to... all of this” I indicated my surroundings. After putting the cup down with her hoofs so she could stand, she picked it back up with her mouth and gestured for me to take it.

“Mph unt e unly ing oo ave oo eh orry or.” I took the cup from her, making a mental note to clean it.

“Want to run that by me again?”

Dash stuck her head back through the window. “I said: that’s not the only thing you have to be sorry for.”

“Er, the dog thing?”

“Nooo”

“The bowl thing?”

“Nooo”

“The inside joke with myself?”

“No- eh?” I waved off the question dismissively. It seemed I was almost out of ways I could have offended rainbow dash, as unbelievable as that was. And I just refused to apologize for ignoring the tapping.

“I give up.”

“You’ve been playing favorites!” Looking at me reprehensibly, she said it with the same fire and indignation one would use to finger a sex offender… er, so to speak.

“With Twilight?” I tilted my head, confused. “That’s more of an issue of playing crazy and not crazy.” Dash ignored the jab.

“No, with Pinkie. She said you let her in, and that you guys had a sleepover together.” The temperature in the guest room dropped several degrees. My smile was incredibly thin.

“I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen.”

“Nope, she showed me the lock of hair you gave her” the Pegasus insisted, and I fought the urge to run to the mirror and frantically check my hair. Despite that, I couldn’t keep myself from brushing through it subconsciously with my fingers, and found a section of it that felt significantly shorter than the rest. Speaking of hair, I had found a long pink thread of hair in my bed the other...

My throat was suddenly very dry. I absent-mindedly took a drink, devolving into a coughing and sputtering fit as soon as I realized what the strange taste was. Skittles totally lied to me. I took a few seconds to compose myself.  

“Tell you what, you promise me you’ll stop tapping so much, I’ll think about letting you in next time.” Having acquired what she came for, Dash leapt to her hooves

“AWESOME! Well I need to run, cloud patrol duty and all.” Fine, drop the Pinkie bomb on me and leave why don’t you. With a single leap she dove off the balcony, flying off into the sky. I might have felt a little bit of awe, mixed with a smidgen of jealousy, though I’d never admit that to her; I needed to get out of the library, if only to stretch my legs for a short time. Now conflicted on whether or not I’d ever sleep again, I figured I might as well try to go on a night run, but that still left the problem of how to get out the door.

A mental image of the Pegasus leaping off my balcony replayed in my mind. Why bother with the door? It was an attractive notion, though slightly crazy. I opened the sliding door and walked the short distance out, leaning over the balcony. For a pony, the drop would have been dangerous. For an average human, however, it was just a little more than a single story, and as an ex-gymnast I was confident I could stick the landing. As plans for the night came together in my mind, I noticed a flash of blue on the balcony floor. Intrigued, I bent over to pick it up; the discarded blue feather felt surprisingly soft in my hand. Had I been the superstitious sort, I would have considered it a sign. I wasn’t particularly superstitious... still though, I felt a new wave of gratitude for Dash’s inspiration as I pocketed the feather. The warm feeling was tragically short-lived, ending abruptly the second I turned back and saw the heinous, snail-trail-esque residue now adorning the glass door. It wasn’t just skittles; the leprechauns were liars too.

“DAMMIT DASH! GET BACK HERE AND CLEAN OFF THIS SMUDGE!”

AN: Next time on LP, Kate dives into solo jogging … at night. What could possibly go wrong?

This was much easier to write than the previous chapter, hopefully thats a sign I’m getting into a rhythm. I want to take a second to thank everyone who’s liked/favorited/commented in the last couple days, the response has been absolutely amazing.  In the past, I’ve tried to reply to all feedback on a story I’m writing, but since there’s so much feedback here, if I addressed every comment I’d never get another chapter done. Just please know that I do read all the comments, and will definitely do my best to get back to you if it’s a question. Thanks again everypony.