I am Scootaloo. I live like a normal filly. Well, in the eyes of normal ponies, that is. I am basically a fun filly always bouncing around and having fun. Always putting a smile on my face.
But the truth is, I don't feel exactly happy.
I go home, in the dark, feeling the wet ground on my hooves, going through streets and narrow alleys.
Why do I have to put up walking through the alleys to get to my house? Well you see now it’s become everyday life for me.
You got to be tough. You got to be tough. Are the encouraging words I tell myself as I walk through the dark alleys. I stumbled upon a trash can, and fall onto the ground. Well, shoot. I have a little blood coming out of my lip. I slowly get up.
As I try to keep my cool, and try not to cry. I stumble around with exhaustion. If I hadn’t stayed too long with Sweetie Belle, in her usual expeditions around Ponyville, I wouldn’t have to be in this much pain.
I just prance along just acting like I wasn’t afraid, but the gangs are usually up at this time of night.
I look up at the night sky, the moon shining brightly, and the cool breeze. I long to be able to fly up there, where it would be a little safe. To be able to fly through the deep blue sky, and maybe I would be able to relax more. If I could fly.
I am a disabled filly by the way.
To let you know, I can’t fly! I’ve tried to push my wings up so I could fly, but I could only go for a few inches of the ground.
I am the so called handicap to flying.
It’s not fun to break your leg, right? You just sit there watching people do things that you wish you could do! To always want to be like others, but your leg does not work, and you can barely lift it.
I can't fly and it makes me feel useless. It makes me feel ashamed to call myself a pegasus, since I am more of an earth pony anyway. My parents are earth ponies, and I inherited my wings from my fifth cousin twice removed.
Yup, pretty bad isn't it? Well, you may be thinking to yourself. Heck with it, you can at least walk, you silly filly! It's not the worst thing in the world to ever happened to a pony, you could've lost your mind and be crazy, be thankful!
Okay, I am not in the worse condition. But it just feels depressing losing something that could be your talent, losing something is hard, not being true to what I want to do is not fun. It’s humiliating .
But what I think hurts most. Is that of my sister Rainbow Dash, she’s an awesome pony, who can do awesome flying tricks! She’s teaching me how to improve my flying. But what I have to tell her now, is that I can’t fly, I can’t lift my wings of the earth, there’s no point in trying. Having some pony do something kind to you, to spend their time teaching you something she knows, like teaching me how to fly and then Rainbow will discover that I can’t do it, cause I'm disabled! I can’t tell Rainbow that! I have to look tough for goodness sake, to get her attention! I can’t just walk up and say I’m handicapped, and I can’t fly. I have to push on harder!
Maybe, I am complaining, maybe, I should be feeling good that I haven’t died by now. But sometimes, I do feel like dying.
I miss my scooter though. I forgot it at school, I could’ve gotten home faster if I had it. I remember why I love to drive my scooter. I love my scooter because of the feeling of happiness that I feel while I drive, that makes me feel like I’m alive, and I long for the feeling always.
Driving a scooter, actually feels like flying if you think about it, it kind of makes you feel like your in the air, that you can actually make anything happen, that it is finally a decision you can make, go left or right, or turn, or do a back flip. The feeling of freedom that I don’t have to always rely on someone, is nice.
Sometimes I drive through nature, going to see the mountains, and the forests, and seeing the long meadows of flowers and grass. To smell the wet dew, and to smell the fresh mud. Or to feel the raindrops on my mane. To drive at the mountains and feel the big space of freedom, is beautiful, it is a feeling of life.
But, no, walking in a dark alley is not the same thing.
I thought I heard someone, I gulp, as I slowly walk away, looking around, hoping that what I think I heard is not there. I now keep my attention around the alley, so I could watch out for danger, instead of daydreaming my way.
I walk through a narrow path between two buildings on each side and I am going through them, I look at the tall buildings like they were trapping me in their large hands, making my feeling of freedom like in the meadows, now make me feel like I am trapped in darkness, like someone with no free will.
I pass slowly through the two buildings, where I go through the dark night, finally finding a old house at the street. The neighborhood is silent, and peaceful.
The hut I lived in, looked okay, it was made out of wood, and had a few windows. And you could also smell the thick aroma of alcohol.
I was prepared. More than anything else. I knew that the feeling of pain would come sooner or later, as I opened the door to the hut, fearing of going in, but knowing that I had to face it sooner or later.
It pierced me, as I felt the empty glass bottle hit my cheek, and leave a enormous cut of blood. The blood pooled of my cheeks, like it was teardrops. I looked up.
There stood father, grinning that grin. The grin I hate.