I don’t want to come outside today. My friends don’t want to play with me. They don’t like me anymore. They say I’m annoying. And I am. They say I’m heartless. And I am. They say I don’t smile. I don’t.
No, I won’t go outside today. Not when all they can do is show me how horrible I am for being there. I know they’ll see me as a snob either way, so I’d rather just stay inside where their glares won’t pierce my tattered conscience. If I walked out there, I wouldn’t survive the wave of coldness. They’d all see me as a snob before I even attempted to talk to anypony. And I don’t talk. If somepony wants to talk to me they’ll think I don’t want to talk because I have nothing to say. That’s not true. It’s not true at all. How am I supposed to know what to say if nopony’s given me a chance?
You’ve had hundreds of chances.
Well, I know I’ve had chances. But--
You’ve had more chances than you deserve so quit complaining.
They say you’re not supposed to put yourself down. What else am I supposed to do? I couldn’t have it any other way. What’s to say that’s good about me? Have I ever done a single thing right? No! Not a thing. Not a thing at all.
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“Dewdrop! It’s time to wake up! You have school today, sweetie!” Mother always sounds so cheerful I almost hate myself for being so dreary. I get up and go to my mirror to smile at myself, as I do every morning. I’m not too good at smiling; I was told from an early age not to smile in pictures, probably because I can’t smile good, and I’ve never been good at it since. Everypony denies that somepony told me this, only because they dismiss a foal’s words as easily as the ravings of a madmare.
I hate everything.
Finally as satisfied as I can be with my smile, I hold it to make sure I can make it stay so Mother knows I’m okay. It’s important she doesn’t suspect my sadness. I feel a small part of me heal as I realize I’m getting better at a realistic smile. With this relatively happy thought, I fly down the stairs of our home, smelling the tasty smells of breakfast rising from downstairs.
“Good morning, sweetheart! Happy Birthday! Did you sleep well?” My mother is a great cook. Today, for my special day, she’s made waffles. She’s yellow, like me, but not the same color. Her coat’s brighter than mine, but at least I have her clear blue eyes. She sees my smile and smiles a little brighter before turning back to the cooking. Father is already waiting for me at the table.
“Dewdrop! Happy birthday!” My dad picks me up and flies me around the room. He used to do that all the time when I was younger and couldn’t fly. Even though I can fly now, it’s still comforting that he makes time for me still, despite his busy job as a Tree Keeper. He’s the one responsible for a certain patch of trees. He keeps the clouds above them floating and waters the trees when necessary.
I can smile for real now, for a little bit. My parents are always so happy for me I can’t help it sometimes.
When the time finally comes for school, my parents give me permission to walk by myself. They’d been coming and dropping me off to make sure I could find the place and wouldn’t get lost. Now that “I’m a big pony, now” I can’t count on them to watch over me. They’re not doing this so I’ll be independant. No. They’re doing it so I can walk with my friends.
“Not a chance.”
I’ll never walk to school with friends. The very thought makes my hooves tremble in anger. I know the reason. But to make my parents happy, maybe I’ll try talking to somepony. Maybe they’ll look past my lack of a smile and play with me. These ponies are nice, right?
After school that day I was singing a pretty mournful tune. Nopony stood beside me. Nopony called my name on the playground. Nopony wanted to share my colors at craft time...
I’m worthless and should just quit trying.
What would my parents think? They have no idea. They don’t know...
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I think it was the day I finally showed all the ponies that I was...displeased...with their behavior. Unfortunately, I didn’t use words. I just got really mad and left school. After breaking a few things on my way out, I believe, because I was covered in bits of other things; wood and fuzz, mostly. I barely remember what happened. I just remember flying out of there and landing in a grove of trees. I wondered if they were Father’s trees. Then I just happened to touch one of the leaves. It was so beautiful, so free and careless. The leaf was green, just like Father. That was when I realized I was crying and wiped my face with a hoof. With that same hoof I touched the leaf because for some reason I thought it’d make me feel better. Amazingly, seeing the tear drops glistening on that leaf made me feel strangely triumphant. I felt like this leaf was my friend. I couldn’t ignore the heat radiating from it. I couldn’t help but feel it was trying to share something special with me. That was when I felt a tingling in my flank and looked down. There, where once was only pale yellow fur, the perfect image of a green leaf shimmered. My cutie mark...
I didn’t really believe it at first. I kept looking away and back to make sure it was actually real. So I stopped looking. I turned back to the leaf and smiled, chuckling softly to myself. The leaf was my friend. Friends protect friends, right? Just as easily as we became one, I vowed I would protect this leaf, just like my father protected the trees.
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It’s been awhile since I got my mark. I’ve finally learned to truly accept the familiarity of loneliness. The other ponies aren’t for me.
Here, the leaves adore me. They show me by brightening and reaching for the sky when I blow sweet dew from the fluffiest clouds onto their green skin. They depend on me, and I’ll never let them down. Not like others who’ll just abandon us when we need them most. And I adore the leaves.
The others left me here alone one too many times. Since it’s happened so much, I can only assume that nopony likes me. After all, how was I supposed to know?