Applejack followed the unusually quiet pink pony into Sugarcube Corner. Where downstairs ponies filtered in and out as they pleased, going about their business, upstairs was another matter. Applejack couldn't remember exactly when the last time was she'd been up to Pinkie's bedroom, though it was exactly as she recalled it.
Bright posters covered the walls, held up by sticky tape. Photographs of various parties she'd planned were framed and filled with smiling faces. Streamers were everywhere, and Gummy sat in the middle of all of it, a blank expression on his face as if he didn't know exactly what was going on at all.
"Are ya gonna explain to me what's goin' on or not?" Applejack demanded. She had seen Pinkie act all sorts of strange ways before, but there was something different about this particular situation that bothered her.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Pinkie said.
"Ah ain't never seen ya without a smile on yer face, and as soon as ah mentioned Bloodrayne y'all looked more outta sorts than a rattlesnake in a vegetable garden."
Pinkie frowned. "Don't rattlesnakes usually live in gardens?" She asked.
"That's not the... alright, fine! A water bug in a desert!"
"What would a water bug be doing in a desert, anyway?"
Applejack threw her hat down on the ground. "Ah ain't good at metapods!"
"I think you mean metaphors. There's no such thing as a metapod."
"Yeah, those. Now listen, somethin's goin on here, Honesty is mah thing, ah know when somepony's bein' bothered. Now ah can't help ya until ya let me know what's goin' on. Ah ain't gonna ask ya again now. Tell me why yer so upset about Bloodrayne," she said.
Pinkie sighed, and very slowly lowered her head. "Because," she said quietly. "I created him."
There was a long moment of silence between them before the country pony spoke again.
"What?"
Pinkie slowly moved to sit by the window, and looked out at the streets below. "I've never told anypony this, but it's really hard being me. I love what I do and everypony I do it for, you all know that. But it's really really hard being happy and cheerful all the time. I get angry. I get upset. I get hurt. And everypony expects so much of me, I try not to ever let them see it. Not if I can help it."
Applejack looked stunned. "Sugarcube, ah didn't..."
"So when I start to feel like that, I write. I take all my anger and mean feelings and I pour them into this stupid pony I made called Bloodrayne, a pony who's everything I'm not."
"But that don't explain how he got out here, an' now he's wanderin' around Celestia knows where tryin' to marry Rarity." She paused. "Why is he trying to marry Rarity? Did you write that as well?"
Pinkie's ears turned bright red. "Well I had to ship him with SOMEPONY, and I couldn't decide, because you're all my super duper best friends. And he was just a story and I was never gonna show it to anypony, so... I shipped him with all of you," she admitted.
"Great," Applejack said.
"Don't tell the others," Pinkie said. "Please, please don't tell! I have a reputation! If ponies knew I got upset sometimes, they'd..."
"They'd not think of you any different," Applejack finished. "Ah think yer puttin' too much expectation on yourself. Nopony can be happy all the time, Pinkie. It ain't possible."
"But I have to try!" Pinkie said. "How can I make ponies happy if I'm not happy myself?"
Applejack shook her head. "We'll discuss this later. In the meantime, where are ya writin' all yer stories at? Can ya show me?"
Pinkie nodded, and rummaged underneath her bed. A housecat sprang out from underneath, gasped for breath, and bolted desperately out the door.
"Oooh, Colonel Cupcake! He's been lost since last week!" Pinkie said, pulling out a new looking binder from underneath the bed.
"Isn't that the organizer Twilight gotcha fer Hearth's Warming? She said y'were supposed to use it to make lists."
"Nopony makes lists, Applejack," Pinkie said. "I use it for my stories."
"And now your stories are coming to life," Applejack warned. "Ah think we'd best get to Twilight's Library, for all we know she coulda put some magic doohickey on it. We gotta stop this. Grab yer stories, and lets go."
"No," Pinkie said.
"...Beg pardon?"
"I said I didn't want anypony knowing about my stories, it's embarrassing!" Pinkie seemed genuinely afraid that others wouldn't take kindly to her being anything less than her perfectly cheerful self.
"Pinkie, do ya trust me?"
"Of course."
"Then ah say this as one of yer true friends... stop bein' so silly. Ah don't think any less of ya fer knowin' ya feel down now and again, and Twilight won't either. We helped ya stop talkin' to turnips, didn't we?"
"I thought we said we'd never talk about that again."
"Yeah, well, yer bein' ridiculous. Now ah ain't gonna ask ya again. Grab yer stories, and let's go. We have an alicorn what needs erasin' from existence."
"Okay," Pinkie said. "I'll go."
Applejack paused by the bedroom door as Pinkie gathered her things. "Is he really as bad as you say he is?"
"Yes," the party pony replied. "He is. He's hatred and jealousy and egotistical and sadness and everything I don't want to be. He's as smooth as silk with the mares and as relentless as the water that makes the canyons. He was never meant to be anything more than secrets on a page, a way to make myself feel better, and now he's running around Ponyville and I don't know what to do."
"I can think of a few things," Applejack said, and Pinkie followed her out the door.