There is one thing that I truly hate in many romance stories. I hate it when the couple just falls in love without a hitch. I despise that. There is so much more to it when you’ve been near the real deal. There are always flaws, disagreements, problems. The phrase ’happily ever after’ is a complete and utter lie. You can live happily, but you can’t keep it all the time for your whole life, like it or not.
Another thing I hate is the saying ‘it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’ Horse apples, I say. I consider having that love go unreturned as a form of losing. I’ve spoken to many others about this, and it seems to be a universal thing. The pain of being turned down is beyond agonizing. It rips your heart from your chest. Your very soul bleeds and cries in desperation to feel the one it longs for holding it close, to protect and be protected in return.
‘Love’. Four little letters that when put together name the strongest of all emotions. This emotion can lead ponies to do smart things and stupid things. It can lead to families being made, but also being torn apart. It’s a complicated thing, this “love”. I’ve felt it, and I still do. It can bring tears of joy. But in my case, all of those tears have been of sadness. I’ve cried so much, and I still do cry. And it is all because of this one moment, this one instant on that fateful day in the town plaza.
The day my heart broke.
<^><^><^><^>
“Hi, Nettle,” Swallow greeted, stopping in front of me. I came to a stop as well, smiling broadly.
“Hello,” I said, nodding gently. Swallow turned slightly and motioned with her head, beginning a slow trot. I fell into stride next to her. “So, how’s your cold?”
“It’s mostly gone. Just a slight bit of congestion in my sinuses and throat leftover,” Swallow replied, clearing her throat a second later. I nodded.
“I see.” There was a brief pause. “Any idea what next week’s weather is going to be like?”
“No. The schedule hasn’t been released yet,” she said. She looked over at me. “What about you? How are you doing?”
“I’m doing good. Great, in fact,” I answered, smiling at her. “Best I’ve been since Raider attacked me.” She grinned.
“That’s awesome, Nettle! Finally getting away from that, eh?”
“Yeah, I finally found the motivation to be happy,” I said.
“Sweet! What is it?” Swallow asked. The question came as no surprise, and while the answer was quite obviously ‘you,’ I chose not to say that. I figured it would be too sudden. I wanted to build up to my confession.
“It just came to me one day,” I said, looking over at her. There was warmth in her expression that made me giddy, and I had to keep myself under control.
“Good to know,” Swallow said. She gave my shoulder an affectionate pat with her hoof.
“So, how are things in your dream world?” I asked.
“Oh, things have really changed in the last few days. Most notably, we have a new enemy,” Swallow said.
“Oh? Who might that be?”
“It’s a necromancer calling himself Splintered Bones. He’s really creepy, and he’s raising an army of the dead to try and take Canterlot.”
“That’s not good.”
“Especially since he raised Longbow…” Swallow trailed off.
“Oh… Well, I’m not sure what to say to that. How do these undead behave?”
“They’re brutal, ruthless, and violent. They have no minds of their own,” Swallow explained, her voice a mixture of pity and disgust.
“Well, if that’s the case… It isn’t Longbow that Bones raised,” I said, glancing ahead.
“Huh?”
“It’s not him. The way I see it, the individual doesn’t reside in the body… but in the heart. No matter how familiar a face, if the heart and soul of the pony that it belonged to are no longer present, it isn’t the same pony,” I explained, turning my eyes over to Swallow. She nodded.
“I guess that makes sense. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We walked on in silence. I took in the scenery around me. Ponies were everywhere, going about their business. I spotted a fair share of couples sitting at plaza-side café’s and outdoor restaurants. Some seemed to be flirting, others were kissing, and a few were just talking. I smiled as I looked over at Swallow. The fact that I might be taking part in such things with her before too long filled me with an indescribable joy.
However, the first step was actually confessing my feelings to her. I was getting sick of stalling already, even though we had only been walking for a couple of minutes.
“Say, what are you thinking about right now?” I asked.
“I want my cold to go the rest of the way away. I’m also thinking about my parents. They’ve been hiding something, and haven’t told me about it.” Swallow replied, looking down a street. I knew that it lead to her house. I realized I hadn’t met her parents yet. I decided not to get sidetracked, however, and continued.
“Well, if it turns out to be something bad, know that I’ll always be around to help you out,” I said softly, smiling. My heart started hammering in my chest. Swallow smiled at me.
“That’s very sweet of you, Nettle. Thank you,” she said, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “What about you? What are you thinking about?”
“A lot of things, actually. I’m thinking about how I got over my depression. I’m thinking about how you’ve stuck with me through my hardship. I’m also thinking about just how great of a friend you are,” I said, barely able to keep the nervous tremble out of my voice.
“Flatterer. I really do try to help,” she smiled over at me. I slowed my pace. Swallow strode ahead a bit, and then turned to face me as I stopped. She tilted her head in curiosity.
“Maybe we would be able to help each other more… if we were more than friends,” I said, looking at her carefully. The moment those words left my mouth, her ears perked up, and her eyes widened. I slowly took a couple of steps forward, and knelt in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. You mean the world to me, Swallow, so… what do you say? More than friends?” I lifted a hoof out to her.
There were several seconds of silence. My heart began to sink with fear and worry. Swallow moved. Slowly, she sat down, too, looking me in the eye. I couldn’t read her expression at all. My heart soared when she placed her own hoof atop mine.
But it shattered into a million pieces when she gently pushed my hoof down into the snow. I looked back up at her, opening my mouth to say something, anything, but she cut me off.
“Don’t, Nettle. Don’t say a word.” Her words were soft, and sad, like she felt sorry for me. “I know what you’re saying, but… I don’t feel the same way.” In that instant, my emotions fully caught up, and I felt the tears starting to hit my eyes. “I’m sorry, Nettle… But my answer is no.” Swallow slowly withdrew her hoof. I felt dead inside. It felt like the force of Dusk Raider and his punches multiplied a thousand times dealt directly to my heart.
Swallow looked at me with a searching, sorrowful gaze for several moments before sighing. “I’m sorry, Nettle, really, but I should go. You need to think this over a bit.” Swallow slowly backed away. I looked down at my hoof pressed into the snow. I could still feel residual warmth from the contact with Swallow. I slowly reached down with my other hoof, and rested it on top. The warmth faded away. I looked back up at Swallow, who was walking away, glancing over her shoulder at me.
I stared after her for several moments, until she finally disappeared around the corner of a house. The second she was out of my sight, my reality shattered. I collapsed into the snow, sobbing uncontrollably. I know that ponies came and asked if I was okay. I know ponies who knew my face sent for my parents. I remember countless voices, all blended together, trying to calm me down. Unfortunately, absolutely none of it worked. I clutched the hoof that Swallow touched to my chest, holding it as close as I could.
I remember my parents came. I remember mom lifting me onto her back, and taking me home. I remember being set down into my bed, and having soft tunes hummed to me. I remember staying there with my mother and my father by my side for a long time. And all the while, I cried. At points it was nothing more than quiet whimpers, but at other times it became screams of emotional agony.
Finally, as the sun set, my parents each hugged my crying form, gave me a kiss on the forehead, and went off to bed. I cried myself to sleep that night. The love of my life had just pushed me away. I lost my only chance, and now I was paying for my rash behavior. I began to attack myself, mentally. I demanded of myself why I was so quick. I demanded why I didn’t wait longer to tell her. Give her feelings a chance to shine and grow.
Now I’d never get that chance. She knew how I felt, and her answer today would prevent her from being able to feel the same way. I cried and cried until I fell asleep. And that night, my mind was filled with dreams of sorrow…
<^><^><^><^>
When I awoke the following morning, it was to the sound of a bird chirping on my window sill. I lifted my head, opening my tired eyes to behold Swallow’s messenger bird. It had a note tied to its leg. I clambered out of bed, and slipped the sheet of parchment out of the string holding it. I hesitated. Whatever this letter said, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to read it. However, I had no way of knowing for sure. Reluctantly, I unrolled the note, and began reading.
Nettle,
I’m sorry about leaving you like that yesterday. I thought that you needed time to think things over. You never showed up to school today, and your brother came by to let Cherilee know that you were unable to attend due to an emotional meltdown. I am so sorry, Nettle, really. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings like this.
I’m afraid I have some bad news. My parents have found a suitable house to move to in Canterlot, and have made arrangements to move there. That’s what they were hiding from me. We’ve already started packing things up. We are going to be leaving in a week.
Is it still a plan to keep in touch through letters? I still want to be your friend, Nettle. You’re a very, VERY good friend, and I really don’t want to lose that. If you don’t want to be friends anymore, though, I understand. Considering how badly I hurt your feelings, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to forget me.
I’d say more, but I’m short on time at the moment. Please, write back soon, okay?
-Twinkling Swallow
I choked down a sob, but still managed a weak smile. I might not be able to be her coltfriend, but I could still be a friend regardless. I could live with that. I set the letter to the side, and started my reply.
Swallow,
I’m not mad at you, Swallow. You have nothing to be sorry for. Of course we can still be friends, and of course we can keep in touch. I’m not quite ready to see you again, though. Just let me know a day or so in advance when you’re going to leave, and I’ll see you at the train station.
-Stinging Nettle
It was short. Barely able to be considered a paragraph. It said what I wanted it to say, though. I turned to the bird, and fitted the new letter into the string. “Go on. Take it home,” I urged softly. The bird chirped, and took flight. I stared after it for several moments. My eyes lowered. Swallow was leaving, then. Off to Canterlot in about a week. I nodded slowly to myself. Maybe it was for the best. If I couldn’t reach her, it would prevent me from doing something I’d regret.
A pony overcome with grief, love, jealousy or denial is capable of doing horrible things. Despite the answer I received yesterday, I still loved her. I’d never hurt her if I had anything to say about it. I knew that it would be unwise to talk to her in my current emotional state, so I chose not to. The letters were just ink on a sheet of parchment. There was no living substance there for me to hurt or abuse.
I turned to my door as I heard it slowly open. Mom stood there, looking at me sadly. “Are you doing okay now, Nettle?” She asked gently, slowly stepping into the room.
“No. I need some time.” I answered, my voice hoarse from all of the crying I had done the previous night.
“We never really heard what happened. What made you so upset?”
I winced, and looked away. Silence prevailed for several seconds. “I… I’m not really ready to talk about that yet…” I muttered. Mom sighed, but nodded.
“Just... Take it easy today, okay?”
“I will.” The door closed. I lowered my gaze and fell into thought. What was I going to do now? I wasn’t ready to see Swallow again, and I had no will to talk to anypony. I glanced over at my desk, and saw my stack of blank papers. What could I do with those? I started walking in circles, the time starting to drag. Finally, I glanced behind me at the window as a breeze came through. I caught a glimpse of my cutie mark as I did so.
I paused. There was the red quill, and a tear coming out of it in place of ink. My eyes rested on the red feather for several moments. I nodded silently, and walked over to my desk. Okay, then. That was what I’d do. I’d tell a story. I didn’t know what I’d tell yet, so I just started scribbling on the first page. Ideas began to come forward, and eventually, on my second sheet, I had started writing my first actual story. One that could be considered good, anyways.
it was called “The Dead Heart”. It wasn’t long, as I only wrote three pages for it. It was about me, practically, just vague. I hesitated many, many times, not wanting to use names, or places. Two hours after I started, I had finished. It was no more than a short story, simply there to get the emotion out of my system. It worked, though only slightly.
Even to this day, thinking back to that day in the town plaza, I still feel the sorrow stabbing my heart like a sharp spear. There is no escaping it. I love her more than anything. I’d step into fire if it meant protecting her. I’d take a million strikes from Dusk Raider to keep her safe. So many things I would do, just to make sure she could stay alive, and hopefully stay happy.
I was happy to defend her against Diamond Tiara’s snobbish bragging and persistent bullying. I was there to comfort her when Longbow died before her.
None of it was ever returned. That smile I gave her when I held out my hoof had a warmth and love in it beyond any I’d ever given before. No smile I’ve ever gotten from Swallow even came close. Every hug we’ve ever shared, I put more of my soul in than she did.
Most ponies, when they get turned down by somepony they think they love, don’t get this bad. Many believed I was over-reacting. The fact is: they did not understand at the time what love really is. They may have cared for that friend in a deeper way than others, but they looked for much more than what was actually there. The rejection didn’t hurt as much because of this.
The facts are simple and clear as day to me. I know what love really is. I experienced it first hoof. I felt its comforting warmth. I felt the cold, dead sensation of rejection, magnified by the knowledge that I will never get that love returned. I love her so much…
But she never loved me.