Derpy doesn’t remember yesterday because it was Wednesday and the day before that was Tuesday and then Monday and she doesn’t remember those days because there’s nothing about them that remembers her. She delivered mail. The mail doesn’t remember her either. Sometimes the ponies with the mail do, and Derpy smiles at them, and her smile doesn’t hurt as much.
Derpy remembers a song sometimes. She can’t remember where it comes from, or maybe if she made it up in her own head, but it’s a nice song and she sings it especially when she’s in the shower and it makes the water feel a bit warmer and she wishes somepony else knew it because she wants to hear them sing it, and then they could sing together and maybe it would be a nice pony Derpy could kiss and the kisses would make her lips feel tingly.
Derpy doesn’t think she knows how to sing. She wants to play an instrument, like the flute. She likes the flute. She saw a concert one time and a pony there played the flute and he was so good that Derpy felt sad for a bit, and then she felt happy because she forgot to feel sad because he was so good, but then when he was done Derpy went home and pretended she had a flute and she did it for a few seconds before her house felt too quiet and then she hit something with her hoof and went to sleep.
Derpy thinks if she could play the flute her song would sound really pretty. But she’s scared that it might not.