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// Entry 37 
// Story: Owner Of A Lonely Heart 
// by AlwaysDressesInStyle 
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Dear Diary,

I hate you.  No, it's more than that.  I truly, honestly have come to absolutely despise you, Diary.  You're a good-looking journal; filly me did have great taste.  I'd expect nothing else from moi, you know.  No, it's as I go back and reread these entries that I've come to realize that you, yes you, Diary, represent everything about myself that I hate.

I'm almost thirty, Diary.  I'm over the hill, Diary.  My best years are behind me.  Why, I practically have one hoof in the grave already!  Do you realize that means I've been writing in you for well over two decades?  Spilling all my secrets over your pages in ink, and running the risk of Sweetie Belle reading you and discovering all my deepest secrets.  Or worse, publishing them in her school newspaper like my other journals.  My younger sister, who I might add, is getting married this weekend.  She wasn't even born when I started writing in you, Diary.

I never found true love.  Instead true love found me.  Oh, I resisted it for a long time.  But Diary, deep down inside we both knew this day was coming.  All those years I was terrified of becoming a crazy cat pony?  Why, Diary?  Why did I think this is the worst possible fate?  It isn't.

I'd love to say our time together was pleasant, Diary, but we both know that would be a lie.  You're the record of all my hopes and dreams failures.  Now the time has come for you to die in a fire, Diary.  Quite literally, I'm afraid.

Burn, Diary, burn.

Sincerely,
Rarity





Rarity levitated the bound diary into the flickering flames of her fireplace.  The flames slowly consumed the ghosts of Rarity's past as she cuddled on the couch with the ones she truly loved: Opalescence, her snow white companion of many years, Obsidian, a purely black cat, Quartz, a pink point Siamese, and Topaz, a Chartreux.