I don't really know what I'm suppose to say here, I mean am I suppose to explain to you what my talent is? It isn't even a talent! It's like...some sort of curse, my fate perhaps? I guess I'll just explain how I got this stupid cutie mark.
. . . . . . . .
An average sized colt sat at a window, his gaze averted directly towards the scenery displayed to him through the glass. His dark blue irises scanned the green yard, his small solid white barrel heaved as he let out a sigh.
"Hey are you okay?" A voice familiar to the colt's ears came from the doorway.
"Yeah, everything is fine." The colt answered his mother.
"Why don't you go out and play, it's really nice outside." The colt's mother tried her best to persuade her foal into leaving the house.
"It only looks like that." The colt replied.
"What do you mean?"
"Right now I'm looking through this window, I see beautiful green fields, clear blue skies, and the bright shining sun, everything looks perfect, but if I go out there the truth will come to me." The white colt blinked as he continued his gaze.
"I'm not sure if I underst-"
"Because if I go outside, I will see everything, I will see the neighbors and how they abuse their foals, I will see the dry and dead lawn of the abandoned home that resides beside our home, I will see the homeless ponies that live underneath the bridge, I will see the horrible truth that is life." The colt turned to look at his mother.
"Son, don't you think your being a bit melodramatic?"
"Please, just let me see through the window and let me live this lie, if I go outside I can no longer pretend the problems aren't there." The colt calmly begged his mother.
"I'm sorry but you have been stuck inside the house for weeks, I think you need some fresh air, go out and make friends, do something." The mother didn't want to upset her foal, but he had to be exposed to the real world eventually, he couldn't just hide away forever.
"But mo-"
"No! Go outside and make friends!"
"..." The little colt said nothing as he left for the front door. As he raised his hoof and put it to the door he took one final look outside of the window. He let out a sigh and pushed open the door and left his home.
. . .
The pristine white colt was standing in the yard, his dark blue irises scanned his surroundings, he found the dead lawn that belonged to the rotting house that took its place next to his own home.
His ears flicked as he heard the loud sobs and shrill screams coming from his neighbors home, his ears continued to flicker until he heard a loud slap followed by silence.
The colt looked around once again and saw the homeless ponies underneath the bridge. Most of them were visibly malnourished, their ribs poking out from their sides, the exaggerated jawlines. The colt looked away as his eyes caught site of a pony falling onto the ground due to starvation.
The colt grew weary of the problems that surrounded him so he turned his eyes towards his own house.
Through the window he could see his mother pouring alcohol into a mug followed by her popping some pills into her mouth. He always knew she had a drinking problem ever since his daddy died, but he never actually saw her drinking or downing pills. He always avoided it, believing if he never saw it, then it didn't exist.
Now he saw it through his own eyes, yet he saw it through the window.
Windows, they always were a way to block out his problems, the colt could always position himself so that he could see something amazing through the window.
Like when it rains and storms, he could always move around until he saw the silver linings in the clouds, the beauty of such a bad situation.
Even in normal situations like daily life, he could position himself so he couldn't see the homeless ponies, or the abandoned home next to his house.
But now, the window, the key to his life has betrayed him, for now he saw the truth, even in his own home he wasn't safe from anything.
The colt felt something inside him break..no..he felt something shatter. All around him he could see only the worst of life, he could no longer look at life and see the little things that could make him happy, now he could only see the things that made him sad.
A bright light flashed and a warm sensation took hold of the colt's flank. He looked over and saw his cutie mark, a broken piece of glass.
. . . .
I cant really call it a talent can I? I mean all I can really do is be a pessimist, that's not exactly a talent. All I can do is the the worst in all of life's situations.
I don't like my fate, but at least I know the truth to my surrounding.