Silver Belle had always felt different.
Ever since he was a foal, he'd felt... off.
He didn't like things colts would usually like - being rowdy and all - but preferred things that fillies would like - he loved modeling dresses for Rarity, loved flowers, loved singing, things that all the fillies and colts at school considered to be colt things.
He never knew why.
Until one day when he realized.
He wasn't a he.
He was a she.
"Silver!"
Silver Belle turned around, smiling as he - she - saw one of his - her - marefriends, Scootaloo.
"Hey Scoots!" Silver exclaimed.
Scootaloo galloped over to him - her. "How was school?"
Bad, the colt - filly - thought, as always.
Ponies calling him - her - a colt and patronizing him - her - in a way one would act with colts (saying he - she - was "going to grow up to be a big, tough stallion!" or asking him - her - "how'd you help your daddy around the workplace today?").
Silver was sick of it, and it made his - her - feelings internally explode.
He - she - kept that in, however, instead saying, "Eh. Yours?"
"It was good. I'm pretty sure I aced the Math test!" Scootaloo exclaimed triumphantly.
"Will Bloom be here soon?" Silver asked.
Before Scootaloo could respond, a familiar country accented voice exclaimed, "Ah'm comin' y'all!"
Both of them turned, smiling as they saw their remaining marefriend.
"Hey AB!" Scootaloo exclaimed, half hugging her marefriend.
"Hay Scoots, Silves." Apple Bloom said. "Whaday'all wanna do today?"
"Model dresses for Rarity!" Silver blurted out.
Both of his - her - marefriends looked at him - her, clearly dumbfounded.
"Are ya feelin' alright Silver?" Apple Bloom asked. "Yer a colt, remember?"
Silver reluctantly nodded. "Y - Yeah, I just thought, well, y'know, the school's holding a winter's ball and, well, I knew we'd all, uh, go so I figured we should model outfits!"
"You're a colt, though," Scootaloo said, "wouldn't you wear a, y'know, tux?"
"I want to try something new!" Silver insisted.
"Well ah don't see anythin' wrong with it," Apple Bloom shrugged, "Scoots, ah'll meet ya at Carousel Boutique at... 5'o clock?"
"Sounds good!" Scootaloo exclaimed. "See you there! Bye Silves!"
Silver nodded as his - her - marefriends galloped off, leaving him - her - all alone with his - her - thoughts.
What was with his - her - needless internal correcting of his - her - pronouns? Yes, he - she - hated it, but one thing was for certain.
He would always be stuck.
He would always be a colt.
He would never be a mare.
He was trapped.