My name is not Misty. It can't be. My parents would never name me like that, would they? Well, I suppose I can never know. I was raised with Opaline, after all. How did she get me? Was I a foal without a family? Did she... create me?
I sit up. I can't sleep, even though I'm in a nice room in a nice house, surrounded by really nice ponies. Maybe that's why I can't sleep. With my past, should I even be here?
"Misty?" I hear my name called in a whisper from across the room. My eyes dart around the room, landing on Zipp’s silhouette. It seems she called me, and I can only guess why.
I bite my lip. I decide it's best to walk over to her so we can talk and not disturb the others. When I’m close enough, I can kind of make out her smile, but I definitely see her wing motion. She wants me to follow her. To where?
We end up in the front room, where Zipp sits down on a couch. I sit on another across from her. I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but I’m scared. I’m just as startled when she turns on the lights, then zooms back down to the couch to sit with me.
“So,” she suddenly says, her voice soft but strong, “tell me.”
“Tell you?” I say nervously. “Tell you what?” She looks at me expectantly, harsh but kind.
My voice isn’t anything like hers. It’s nervous, just like me. “I- It’s just…” I look at Zipp, who breathes deeply.
Joining me on the couch I’m on, she says, “It’s okay, you can spill it. I trust you now.”
She looks at me with curiosity when I say, “Do I really belong?”
Zipp laughs, although I’m not sure if it was at me or not. “Of course; why wouldn’t you?”
I swallow my lump of worry, which returns to my throat quickly. That stupid lump, leaving my words unclear and my head clouded. I point to my cutie mark, which she raises an eyebrow at. I guess I’ll have to explain. With words. Oh, how I hate words.
Pushing down that lump again, I ask her, “Do you know what your cutie mark is supposed to represent?” She nods, not speaking, probably because she wants me to get to my point already. I nod, too. “Well, I don’t know what mine is supposed to mean. I just got it, and I don’t even know what this butterfly is to show.”
Zipp smiles. “Is that all?” I want to say no, but I let her go on. “Lots of ponies don’t know what their cutie mark means. I think, sometimes, a cutie mark is just a symbol of reminding us that our destiny is to be ourselves.”
I blink, trying to clear the drops of water that are sitting on my lower eyelids.
“And,” I start and sigh. There’s always an and. And in this case, that’s a bad thing. “I don’t know just who I am. How is my destiny to be myself if I don’t know who that is?”
“You’ve got to explore your options. And you can’t be afraid; you’ve got friends surrounding you. You could ask them for help finding yourself. We’ve all needed help before,” she tells me, not seeming to get it.
I nod, just agreeing at this point. “Okay. But it’s not like my friends can help me find out who my family is. I’ve left them so far back, and they probably don’t even know who I am. And my friends, they won’t know who my parents are.”
“Your friends are your family, Misty.
She sounds like somepony mature. Can’t we just be normal and young and have fun? What is she, an advice fountain? I hate it, and I just can’t help but let my anger boil.
I sigh and shout, "I'm trapped as somepony I don’t even know! I’m stuck as Misty, but who is Misty? I don’t know Misty’s past, Misty’s destiny, or even Misty’s original name!"
“Does that really matter? Sometimes, you just let go of the past and enjoy the present while it lasts. The present is very short-lived, Misty.”
I grit my teeth. “WHO IS MISTY?” I start hyperventilating. I stand up and turn around, back facing Zipp. “My name is not Misty. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not.”
I run off to a place, maybe a storage room, not ready to face her again. Zipp’s handled so many problems, and I’m one of them. I just don’t know how she does it. I don’t deserve someone like her. She doesn’t deserve someone like me. None of them do. I sigh, ready to apologize. When walking out of the closet, I bump into somepony. Zipp.
She opens her mouth, shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she finally says.
“I know but- Wait, you?” I ask, unsure. “You’re sorry? For what?”
“Not listening,” she smiles, that all-knowing smile. I bite my lip as tears well up in my eyes. Were my parents as advice-filled as she? Maybe I don’t need to care, and maybe I’ll never know. “I was acting ignorant, just trying to give advice like ponies often do for me. Maybe that’s not how it works for you. I’m open for listening now, if you’d like. Just vent. I’ll stay quiet until you ask me not to.”
I sigh. “Can we go back to the couches? I think I’d like some comfort first.” She smiles, and with that, we head back to find four other ponies and a dragon waiting on the couch.
“Oh,” Zipp smirks, “and I forgot to mention, they woke up, concerned for you, and they’re here to listen if you need it.”
I smile and motion for them all to get in a group hug. With me. “No, I think I need to 'enjoy the present' right now. With all my friends. Technically, my family.”