"What does it mean to be reborn? Or to be born again? To... like... metamorphosize from what you were into something greater. Something on a higher level? Caterpillars into butterflies and shit?
"When I was a kid, my parents were obviously juggling multiple botched ways to raise me while also yelling-the-shit out of each other. So, at one point, they had the bright idea of putting me intp Sunday School. What's Sunday School? I won't go into crazy detail, cuz I don't see how it friggin' matters over here in horseland. But—needless to say—I was briefly inundated with a whole bunch of traditional proverbs and thoughts at an elementary school level. They were meant to steer me along a righteous path towards redemption and spiritual fulfillment, which is cool, I guess.
"And... and I remember being taught about 'baptism.' Lots of cultures believe in it, mostly Christian cultures. It's a ritual someone goes through to display before witnesses that he or she is willing to make a transcendent change in their life... that they are willing to undergo a spiritual cleansing and come out the other side transformed... converted... healed... whatever.
"Anyways, this ritual typically meant being dunked in water. I'm talking like a river bank or a baptismal pool or... or... whatever the heck it is that Mormons use. Sorry, I'm rambling again. Anyways...
"...I used to think to myself—as a kid, mind you—that it all seemed so stupidly simple. And easy. I mean—sure—maybe that's the draw of it. Lots of people who believe in baptism are keen on getting people to do it, because... I guess there's some invisible scoreboard for winning souls in heaven or whatever. I don't know. I'm sure there's a lot more complicated stuff to it, but back in Sunday school I couldn't get past how silly and basic it looked on the surface. I secretly told myself—and maybe this is what they really wanted me to do in my head without managing to convey it—that a baptism... a true baptism had to involve a whole hell of a lot more sacrifice... that there had to be some pain and anguish involved with getting rid of your old self... of peeling the former skin away and revealing your sensitive, vulnerable, beating soul underneath.
"That struck a cord with me. And I couldn't... like... think my way out of this ironclad box that I had made for my mind... and soul. So when my Sunday School teachers asked me if I wanted to get myself baptized someday, I straight-up told them 'no.' They probably thought I was just trolling them... or perhaps I was an honest-to-God hellbent devil in sheep's clothing. But truth is, I didn't believe in myself enough to think I could actually go through with such a change. I mean, who could? And who ever really thinks about it? Like, truly actually weighs upon the concept with every inch of your soul? Like... do we even have souls? Are we more than the sum of all our collective actions? And—if we are, and somehow we could cleanse that nebulous loophole essence of ourselves—what does that say about the mark we leave in the footprint of time? Where do you separate one's goodness from one's do-goodness?
"I didn't stay at Sunday school long—for various reasons, mostly my parents' doing—but that sensation of confusion and self-doubt stuck with me for a very long time. I worried so much over agency and purpose that—at some point—I allowed laziness and ennui to reign supreme. I simply gave up on trying to accomplish anything whatsoever. I guided my life towards becoming an artist... a starving musician with nothing to give to this world but subjective creativity. I allowed a crazy powermongering soul to become my girlfriend and dominate my life because cowering to her bullshit day by day was still somehow less stressful than facing my own decisions and aspirations in the cold heart light of my own intuition.
"And after all of that—an entire young teenage life of just... floating around like a loser and deciding nothing... I was left alone. In the darkness. Without a foundation or a foothold or anything. And for a brief moment I figured that maybe... just maybe... taking the plunge into the cold cleansing waters that intimidated me since childhood would have yielded a far better, warmer, prouder fate. But I wasn't about to yield to any faith established by the creatures around me. I didn't believe in them anyways. They wore all the same skins as every saint or asshole I had ever known. No—any baptism, a true baptism—would rely on my own courage to dive in to something unknown... a future unfathomable... an ocean of promises but no guarantees.
"And... and I think that's what brought me here. I think that's what brought me to Equestria. It wasn't to frighten anyone back home. It wasn't to grab for attention. It wasn't to destroy myself or... or d-disappear.
"It was to see if I could transcend. If I could become better than the ambivalent pool of lost souls that I now look back on with nausea and regret. To see if I could find goodness... submerge myself in that... then emerge a changed creature. A better creature. Someone transformed—not in hooves and tails and manes—but in soul. In respect. In good will. And now... now I've gone through with it. I've made the plunge... almost drowned for a bit... and I've come out cold and shivering. And... and h-here I am, I guess."
... ... ...
"And do you feel that it's worked, Flash? Do you feel as though you've actually changed for the better?"