I loved her, once. I know I did. I met her in school as all the young do and, at first, I wasn't so sure. She seemed quiet and distant to me, even though the first time I saw her we sat shoulder to shoulder. But, then again, I was the same. And I still am.
That's one difference between us. It turns out there was nothing in her that I had expected. She was lively, musical, a dreamer and a wisher and held so many aspirations. I on the other hoof could only admire. We only shared a few conversations to start, but she loved fantasy and magic and wanted to be a wizard and loved adventure stories so I took a book off my shelf that I liked more than any other story and gave it to her and she liked it.
Now I sit in a Manehattan bar, two blocks away from my college, while she's still in Canterlot learning the magic she wanted. Will I see her again? Would she want me to, after all her feelings toward me? She didn't need to say it, I knew from her actions. She must have known too, how it pained me. Or perhaps she thought I wouldn't care--and for the longest time I didn't--because my love was unconditional. In my wondering I still imagine the worst, that a she never deigned to have a thought about me save for those that she had to, when I was present and she could not get away.
We were good friends for some time. Over a year, where we joked. I learned more about her and grew more enraptured. She could sing and play music, and worked harder than I at it not because she had to, but because she could. We suffered the same through our courses. Canterlot is filled with competing students of nobles, and by merit alone we studied in the classes others had to pay a fortune for. No moment of day nor night was free for leisure, but she wanted to do it. Others were forced to by their parents, but she had to see herself through it all because she new she could do it.
No easy path was taken by her if she felt she could rise to the challenge and come out on top. Determined and ambitious, that energy to succeed drove my own. Since that moment of realization of how strong she was, I woke every day empowered by her. She was the reason I got up in the morning when all tasks seemed too daunting.
And what of the arts? I knew nothing of the stage or screen but she was a master at it. What else could I do but wish to be around some pony who grasped science and math but also the skillful complexities of acting? I watched her perform not just to look upon her beautiful face but to give support. She did so much and I seemed so little by comparison.
What does this bartender want? I have money to pay and a drink in my hoof so what business of his is it to ask if I am alright? The night is here and so I shall escape into it, whether it clears my thought or not. Why does he stare and whisper to others, as if words spoken behind my back would cheer me up? Take me from this watering hole you swine, ban me from your drink, and see if I can't drown myself in bottles of tears and sorrow instead.
I tried to support, I really did. She wanted to succeed at her classes, and I wanted that too, but such classes required more than homework and effort. It stole a piece of the student's soul, crippling all with fear and anxiety. But not me, because I had her. Yet she held no love for me so I had to make efforts to support her. Gifts for every holiday and words of gentle encouragement were all I knew to do, and whenever she had a problem I was grateful she would share them with me. But she never needed help. More precisely, she never needed help that came from me.
I don't know what force compels her friends. Perhaps he simply doesn't like me, he certainly showed as much before I told her how I felt. But after, at times we'd talk and he would wander my way, stepping into me like I was a puff in the wind to be ignored. I was blocked from her, by her friends. What words did she say to make them act so toward me? I had thought we understood each other, than despite my mind's emotions my heart would let her be. We could be friends, and I could simply marvel at the fact that such a mare could exist, and that I knew her well.
Maybe I didn't know her so well, though. Could she have conspired to avoid me? If so, for what transgression? She trots faster when I near, has no time for my words to hear, and though friendly she is when speak, I can spy her spite with just a peek. No. It is not my place to judge, only love and care and hope she does well now that we've parted ways. Half a country away, I cannot resent her so if she cannot herself defend.
Nor can I hold such feelings long. She may not speak to me unless she has to, but she is kind and appreciative nonetheless. I gave her a gift for Hearth Warming, a box of chocolates and a necklace from the Crystal Empire, and she returned with a gift as well. I still hang that bell and listen to its chime. No, I cannot harbor resentment for more than a fleeting second.
Curse these onlookers, this is a bar. Go play billards, or babble like senseless chickens, but whatever you do, leave me to my lonely night. Today has offered no comfort. I must escape into the night.