There must be a reason behind it. She talks in riddles but moves in rhymes, drifting from non-sequitor to non-sequitor like hooves across piano keys. It's fine when she's all giggles, the party pony with the permanent smile. It's painful when she breaks, when she's trying so hard to communicate but can't find the words or the way, lost to static of her mind.
Twilight's given up trying to explain Pinkie Pie. She can barely explain herself. But there's no way she's letting her friend float away, like balloons set adrift in the wind.
She just wishes she could understand.