//------------------------------// // Dear Diary // Story: This Is Your Story! // by Mahayro //------------------------------// Dear Diary, I, Miss Colgate, have decided to 'repurpose' this spooky little thing for our own benefit. Since it seems a few days of our lives have been catalogued in here already, why the hay not continue it ourselves? Also, the shared-diary phenomenon has really picked up ever since the Elements of Harmony started doing it. Like them or lump them, they've helped our town in a lot of ways both grand and subtle. And it's a lot cheaper than the therapy we all need. As for "the pale unicorn", he still hasn't said a word. I know it says earlier that we killed him. Berry's just being a butt again. Judging by what I read from that part, she was Queen Evil Butt the Second. (I don't know why I find all this funny...I mean, the guy could be a real psycho murderer, and Berry could get in real trouble for treating someone like that, and this is basically evidence for all of that. Maybe it's just knowing that he's locked up and can't hurt anypony anymore. Hooray for rationalized relief!) I suppose I should probably talk about Berry. (And I'm not just writing this only to you whenever you read this, Berr--it's for all our good.) Things went south for us two nights ago. Like, past-the-Badlands south. Our relationship is basically over. When the adrenaline rush from the party and its fallout died down, it finally sank in. And considering how she's acted lately, I am beginning to think it's been over for a while and I just got the memo. But we're still talking. We're still dealing with things like before, almost like nothing happened--just no hugs or "other activities". Actually, when was the last time we got it on? Berry--now I am addressing you directly, but also in the abstract (don't worry, that's not an insult)--I do take your words to heart. I'm not sure how to deal with them just yet, but I'll make the time to. You have to be a priority in my life, and not just because I agree to go along with your crazy adventures or you agree to go on my missions. We'll have to talk about the missions thing again sometime. I know we've gone over it literally a hundred times now, but it really is important. Maybe #101 will be the one where it all makes sense for us both. Alright...that's most of the venting. Now I can finally think about actual life again. The Ponytones gig is two days from now, and we've done nothing. It really makes me feel sick to my stomach. Considering Carrot's current state, this is basically a two-mare operation now. We've both missed so much work already, and I know on my end it'd be asking entirely too much of my clinic to sub out yet again. (They already figured out it's not a 'family emergency'--I don't even talk with my family!) So I don't know how it'll get done unless we pull an all-nighter. I haven't been able to do one of those for years. There's definitely one good thing to come of all this, though--I have an interesting tale to read and re-read when I'm at front desk. Too bad this doesn't go further back. It'd be great to just be able to reflect on everything you've ever done. I've only skimmed it so far--and it seems fairly accurate, at least where I can verify. But I have a feeling I'll think differently once I read it more closely. There has to be an explanation why that Boogeycolt was doing this, and--forgive me for being superstitious or judgmental--I can't imagine somepony like that having good intentions. Guess I'll be off for now. Whoever's reading this: Don't forget to brush! I'm not kidding! Nopony particularly likes going to the dentist. I'm just doing my part for everypony's sake. ~Colgate Dear Diary, Ms. Punch skipped her turn. I'd kind of predicted this. It's not just because she's not really the "think-brain" type either. Or the writing type. Or the considering-feelings type. Oh, Berry, I'm just messing with you. Please don't beat me up again. At least don't leave any bruises anywhere other Oh goddesses. I really shouldn't write about my Berry that way. I wouldn't blame her or anypony if they didn't want to think about what was in this book, though. I just about burned the thing when I realized there's probably some dark magic going on. I read through it last night. While it's written like it's narrated--though there are parts where it gets a bit crazy--I noticed some words in it here and there that don't match the story very well. I mean, my life, not 'the story'. Geez. I took special interest in the one in Chapter Eight, right when I suddenly realized I heard something from my dream. Berry knows, but I don't think I fully explained to Carrot. My dreams are messed-up sometimes. I may drift off to sleep, only to wake up an hour or two later, repeating things to myself or laughing or crying...but I almost never remember it. I've only caught myself a couple of times doing this, but every once in a great while Berry would sneak into my apartment to check up on me and she's seen it full-on. One time, she caught me singing in my sleep. I'm not even a practiced singer. (I'm not counting karaoke night!) So this thing was about making Berry my enemy and getting my life back. That's kind of an unequivocally creepy and out-of-place thing to have stuck in my head. It seems more like mind control. I mean, crazier things have happened in this world--but why to us of all ponies? We're not trying to foil some heinous plot... Or have we coincidentally foiled one already by stopping this freak? One thing's for sure, in any case: That guy's not going anywhere. Work's fine. We've gotten about half of the reschedules done since I figuratively skipped town--guess it's been about a moon. I helped draw up a complex restoration order and did some prepping today. Wish I could just stick to the paperwork--I hate the pre-anesthesia conversations. Ponies get so nervous, and nothing you can tell them ever really helps. They just want it over before it's begun. But what was creeper-pony saying in the preface--every actor plays their part and worries about consequences later? That's medicine in a nutshell, no doubt--just change "later" to "as they come". You might think that doing everything possible to minimize risk and liability somehow makes that not the case...but there's always the pony element. You never know what might come up. Prepare all you want, but you can't predict every dental fragment or prevent every drug reaction. On missions: Right after the last entry, I found out about some other thing sprung on Ponyville at the last minute--a Fashion Days Festival. Apparently it's annual, but I can't even remember the last time they actually honored this tradition. No complaints here, though--the designer isn't even hiring any outside help, so I can't feel guilty about being too tied up. More than ever to do around here, and still only one of me to do it. Berry at least has clones. And I only have one thing to say about that stage-building miracle (besides yes, we got it done)--Berry, what did you do to those fireflies? I get the funny feeling you used that kind of 'Berry magic' on them. Better hope Fluttershy doesn't ever read this, or you'll never hear the end of it. Oh, I guess I'll say one other thing about it. The acoustics were off. I could barely hear Big Mac. Oh well--hire amateur help, get amateur results. I thought the Ponytones were bringing their own sound system, though. It's getting a bit late. Weekend's right around the corner, at least. ~Colgate Dear Diary, Today I learned all about the magic of friendship thanks to my wonderful friends and their love for each other and donating food and puppies to the orphanage and throwing all the bad guys in a giant rainbow-powered magical bonfire. It was pretty good. Cole's making me try this again. But I guess I can write whatever the hell hay I want as long as Lord Sparkle Breath approves of it. Whatever. So she says we're gonna go on another vacation this time, no business, no writing, no nothing. We bucking nee I'm okay with this. I was able to find a heavy enough chain to keep that rapscalion tied up. Charged Up is getting double for taking care of the dog. Will give Sunny something to do while she's suspended. Can't believe she hit somepony at school. She'd never hurt anypony. Normally us BGs are always doing things. Doing missions. Even the Apploosa thing was Carrot's idea for a writing article. Then she didn't go, what a shame, lot more guys out there. So I'm gonna try to write from the heart. Cole will not get off my back about this. She can be a rea Carrot, I'm sorry. You musta figured out by now I had a backup plan if the thing with the tooth ended up being real. And I lied because I didn't want to screw up your party. You have no idea how much it sucks worrying and thinking about things you're not even sure are real. Or maybe you do. Aliens my ass. And I made Cole leave so I could write this part so BUCK YOU COLE! Okay, that's not an apology, is it? Trying again. Carrot, you really suprise me. Suprise in a good way. Sure you're a random crying little shit sometimes. But then you always knew how to keep it real. You kept me from getting too real on the fake Pinkie Pies. You kept me from turning Twilight to a pile of purple gravy when she screwed with ol' Blue Girl again. They both had it coming that time, but still. And now I break your house to bits because I gotta do things my way. I already know my way isn't right all the time. Doesn't mean an Wait. You believed in me more than anypony else that day. I know that's not saying a lot, but it really is a lot. Holy crap. Holy crap Carrot. I owe you. The booze was because I thought it was the only way you were gonna get all the way through your crazy phase. I should know. But I owe you a lot more than that. I know one way I can but I can't do it yet. Or I can't tell you yet anyway. Let's just try and fix your house, I bet we can get it good as new. I'll pay for the new ceiling. Hell, keep the shotgun too. And Cole. I'm not talking to you right now. Not about you and me, anyway. I mean, don't worry about me leaving you or the BGs forever, that's impossable. I can't even imagine. Carrot and I are gonna catch up 100% on this vacation of yours--catch up on chilling out, none of this stupid talk. Just mediate or something, get your blood pressure down. And don't try sneaking this book in. Just the three of us, no dogs allowed. Nothing else really happening these days. I'm just glad Planter didn't get hurt from the moment Sunny and I had. I wonder what it feels like to be that inocent. Well there you go Cole, now I'm getting all scentimental again. Face it girl, that's not the mare I am anymore. READ IT AND WEEP. Mega Queen Super Evil Butt the Second Dear Diary, There was nopony else at Rainbow Falls yesterday. It was a truly magnificent, exquisite sight. Makes me wonder why we even try so hard to bend nature to our whim. But I couldn't care less today. It finally hit me like a sack of lead. She's gone. And I have to stay with her every single day through all of this. I can't leave her, but she's gone and she's right there and oh Celestia what have I done????? She attacked me. She attacked who I am. And I attacked her back with who I am because that's all I could do. That's all I am--I'm her accessory. But I let myself become that accessory. And I was the one who started it in the first place. How messed-up is that? It's not just taking things for granted. It's not just getting lost in living a hoof-loose life with her on my off days. I'm the lost mare. I really have lost something precious, haven't I? Who does Colgate want to be? Berry has the next generation; Carrot has her creative contributions. And me? If I outlive the other two, it'll be a very lonely funeral. (I don't think my life and its stresses will be that 'generous', though.) I tell Berry, again and again, that my missions are part of that--a way to secure my legacy, or make a difference, or inspire others to live a better life. But it hasn't felt that way to me. I've been lying to myself... How in Equestria did Berry know I was lying when I didn't even realize it? Or did she even have to know? Oh, but that doesn't add up either. We've also talked so many times before about us being the color of this town--of making them all give a care. So what is the truth? (Not like I'd expect her to be honest enough to tell me--I was quite sincere about that, at least.) Maybe I wouldn't be so stressed if a loose buck happened to slip my way at the Falls. But you can't have it both ways, can you? I don't know whether 'mediation' is what I really need, but next Sunday's office work is off. I don't care what they say. This mare needs a day entirely to herself; the day is long overdue. ~Colgate Dear Diary, Today I had the best margarita of my life. I finally figured out how much Cointrough to use. I don't have 'em that often, so that must be why it took me so long. Definitely gonna become part of my Sunday breakfast now. Jams showed up, and she wanted the Dammore. Fine, you can have it, you sly sis. I'm still the oldest. Don't think you can push me around. But you'd better enjoy the shit out of it. We caught up a bit on what happened after she left. She wasn't laughing anymore when I told her the house fell down. She was pretty pissed, actually. Not sister pissed, either. I think she really likes Carrot. Maybe I should just dissapear into the mist, like whoever built this goddess-forsaken house, and let Jams be me. A few days ago Cole told me about Carrot wanting to be her. So that got me to thinking today, and I brought it up with Jams. She said Cole had it wrong. We all want to be something other than what we are. That's how we know we're still growing and we haven't given up. Holy shit Jams, what were you on when you came up with that? You should become a teacher. Or a preacher. Or something around here, at least. We'll have to dye your coat and mane if you wanna stay though, because I think some ponies were going nuts trying to keep us straight. So anyway, she agreed with me on the secret I have planned for Carrot. The only reason I'm even telling you this is because I'm a mischevous little tramp and you all know it. We talked about being a mom, too. What happened with Sunny is something that shouldn't ever happen to anypony ever. She's just unlucky because she had to come out the gate into my sorry little world. But Jams liked my way of avoiding the drama. Punchie's still got it, yo. Plus free baby sitting! Well, when I get the dog out of here, anyway, I don't trust her alone with that thing. She might forget to give it doggy treats. Or it could steal her bucking mind or something. That Hinny Boys mistery ain't totally solved. Her little Peachie's doing great. She's only eight years old and she wants to be an econimist. That's just a total mind blow. Even if she doesn't know how horrible and boring it is, she even knows what that is. Talk about dreaming big. My dreams ain't so big though. The damn winery's gonna take me someday and then I'll be stuck here forever. Uncle Saucy keeps trying to teach me the way of things. But he ain't anywhere near ready to kick the bucket. Probably tired of it himself and just wants to retire. Like I'm the Princess of Wine or something? In case you all hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly "cultured" for that kind of thing. Too many snobs out there, not enough ponies just wanting to get shitfaced. Jams and I had a good laugh about that one. Then we talked about Carrot herself. Jams didn't get enough time to really know her, but she knew there was something off. I explained the sex-change thing, but she said it wasn't that, either. I had another idea though, so I brought it up. I keep calling it a dog, but it's a pony. A real, breathing, living, thinking pony. I know it thinks because it tried to run away from me before I beat the shit out of it. And I know it wrote this story. He wrote this story. He's something. So I had Jams go over it with me, she's a better reader anyway. She said she could put her hoof on a few spots in the story where it seemed like Carrot changed her mind about something because of what the narrater said. Like that make-out with Cole in the street? That didn't even have to happen. Or when she wouldn't care about us when we were trying to get her to stop writing her story? Bucking hell, she was right! Oh Carrot, you're gonna get the biggest hug ever. How could you even put up with us dumb shits? And we're gonna make you read the story, too. Face your fears already. We'll be there for you. Both me and Cole. Oh, and Cole? You're starting to figure it out. Well, figure out a small part of it. Please don't give up. Your beloved, Berry Punch Dear Diary, I take a day to myself and it ends up being the craziest day of my life, I swear. Do the powers that be not desire my quiet contentment? This is getting unreal. If a grown mare could get drunk off of ginger root tea, I think I would have this morning. Ginger is supposed to help the body in all sorts of ways--and it won't stain your teeth like the stuff of roasted leaves or beans! I just happened to remember why I drink it today. Berry and I were fighting some years back (we've had our share of little ones--nothing like last moon). She was upset with me because we couldn't agree on when our relationship started. (Small potatoes, right?) I was pretty sure we'd been an item for over ten years. She got all enraged because I should've known exactly when I had the talk with her--like there was no chance in Tartarus that I would forget something like that. And I suppose I shouldn't have--but I still don't remember, and she won't tell me. It's been a while since I brought it up though, and we haven't had time to be together in a while, so maybe we can try this again. Drinking ginger root tea is supposed to help with memory loss, among other things. I guess I must've started the habit sometime around then. Strange, though--keeping track of details is my specialty. How could I chart the minutiae in life so successfully while I completely miss the big things? I refused to let that get to me today, however. With a bit of lemon and sugar, any trouble can be washed away. The irony is truly something, though: I drink to remember what I don't even remember that I forgot, and Berry drinks to forget what nopony else ever even knew. Well, I guess that's not a complete match-up. Berry knows exactly what she's doing to herself. And there's probably even a couple secrets she's keeping from me. I just stopped worrying about all that after a while, because she's a zebra whose stripes I'll never change. But enough about that. I never turn down company, especially the unexpected variety. Dr. Horsythe coming to my personal residence certainly passes as 'unexpected'. My mentor was deeply concerned about me, wanting to know more about my recent absence. He offered a surprising amount of comfort, far beyond his bedside manner. There was no way I could explain everything to him. He understood this and reminded me that my apprenticeship was not under threat. He just wanted answers for today...answers for himself, answers that would otherwise never leave the apartment unless I so chose. He said that I'd been getting more and more overtaxed in the last few years. He wanted to know if I'd sought help for a possible psychological condition, or if I'd at least found ways to reduce my overall stress. It wasn't that I had failed or made a lot of mistakes--to the contrary!--but that I'd revealed so much of myself ("who you are between the lines", as he called it) that needed to be at peace and wasn't. I explained in reply that I wasn't a spiritual pony; that made him laugh a bit, wondering how I became a missionary. (And I wasn't about to get into that conversation just yet...) He thought maybe talking with my family would help; I felt a bit ashamed when I realized I didn't even know how to contact them anymore. He said he would offer his own personal time to help me on that end, which made me just about cry. My professional mentor's cared about me all these years, and I didn't even know? I'd never hugged him before. And it wasn't like a lover's hug or a deep friend's hug. Do you know what it feels like to be called into your boss's office for an unknown reason, only to be greeted with a warm and smiling face? That sudden forgoing of tension, that profound personal relief and serenity--I felt that throughout my entire body, and I didn't want it to end. But it ended, and suddenly. It was the fact that I had to search through documents just to remember my parents' names that broke the proverbial camel's back. There is certainly something gravely wrong with me. He didn't say anything on the matter, however. He just took a few notes and inquired about the tea. His thoughts on my concern of memory loss amounted to, "just make sure you remember what really matters, and your talents will take care of the rest." He also recommended that I take a stroll for no reason--that that can lead to all sorts of good things both without and within. (Oh, Carrot's told me the same thing--there's probably some truth to that, then. And if Carrot can enjoy a stroll with her unusual Ponyville reputation, why can't I?) He hugged me back before leaving (I think he could tell I really enjoyed the first one). That one did feel more like one from a friend. Then I felt an odd relief for some reason I couldn't quite put a hoof on. I checked my to-do board, wondering if it had to do with something there; but no, I had successfully written everything off of the schedule for today already. Then I remembered that Dr. Horsythe hadn't asked for any refreshments other than the tea and the powder room. It was always awkward to explain to new company how I never had anything in the fridge. I don't even remember when it started...but a long time ago, I found that someone was pilfering my food. The authorities were never able to find out who did it. But whenever I would put food in the fridge, there was a good chance that most or all of it would go missing by the following day. I'd tried putting traps on the fridge, both magical and mundane, in order to catch the thief...but they never turned up, and they were always able to circumvent the traps! One might wonder why I still even keep food around here--and the answer is that I basically don't. Every once in a while I'll put a bottle of milk or a bag of carrots in there, but otherwise I've adapted to eating entirely on the go and at Berry's. And it always goes missing within a few days of checking. It's become a sort of superstitious joke by this point--a creepy one, but mostly harmless at this point with my income. (Well, income's been a bit stretched lately, but that's entirely a matter of circumstance. Quality lumber isn't cheap!) So I decided to check one more time today on the effects of my little kitchen demon. But the demon hadn't visited this past moon: a moldy tomato and a carafe of fermented grape juice told me so. That was just too much weirdness in one day for me to take. So I went over to ask Berry if she'd hear me out on this weird day over at the Hay Burger. Only I got the wrong Berry--Jam greeted me at Punch's place instead. She'd apparently agreed to watch the creeper-pony for the afternoon...but she was looking for excuses to get out of it, and I fit the bill. She did a lot of laughing off my concerns, as usual; but she also recommended I try to talk with friends outside of Carrot and my Berry more often. It's good to have outsiders to bounce your ideas off of, if nothing else. And if I didn't have enough opportunities in patients and folks at the marketplace, Pinkie Pie could act as a one-pony social network. Goodness, I guess I do have a lot of useful resources in that department. Well, the demented cherry on my nutty sundae of a Sunday dropped in when the whole restaurant was mobbed by little fillies and colts taking pictures of Princess Twilight. I think I spotted Sparks in the crowd! Pinkie was there too, but it felt too weird a situation to just start asking about everything all over again. Judging by the last time we tried that, she might have exploded or something. However, I also spotted Written Script on the way out. Carrot will definitely be glad to know he's back in town... Perhaps one day I'll look back at days like these and laugh. Overall, it's not so bad, now that I think of it. I'm as good as ever at stumbling into 'fun'. And ole Queen Cole's still got a lot of juice in her caboose--just gotta find out where to shake it up. Maybe my only real problem is not appreciating that fact more. ~Colgate The chickens have flown about for far too long, friends. It's time they come home to roost. Consider our supposedly addled prisoner--the one henceforth addressed as IPU. While currently docile, he has clearly presented multiple threats to the well-being of at least Colgate and myself, and possibly Berry Punch as well. There exist multiple lines of evidence to indicate IPU's ultimate design is premeditated and had been a work in progress prior to the book's penning. Despite my presenting pictures of him both to the police authorities and to Town Hall, no one recognizes him at all. On a hunch, I also offered these to the same authorities in Canterlot; results returned negative. He is now registered as a missing pony; however, as Berry Punch requested, he will remain inside her establishment and outside of the public eye for the time being. Therefore, we three Backgrounders bear the duty of assembling IPU's life history and determining any wrongdoing therein. I ask to consider, first and foremost, the self-incriminating descriptions IPU has given in the story itself (henceforth addressed as Story of the BGs or The Story): • In the preface, IPU states that The Story has taken a number of years to craft. IPU also treats the characters in it (that is, ourselves) as "actors" (this is alluded to again in the unnamed last chapter, which may or may not be intended as part of The Story). This strongly infers that the characters have been carefully chosen over a period of years for a given "story" before settling on ourselves as the subjects. • The preface also refers to an audience's expectation of "ponies behaving certain ways". This implies that the chosen characters bear a maximum resemblance to those needed for the desired outcome, so that The Story as conceived could be written with little to no embellishment of, or alteration from, the reality upon which it is based. An excuse is then provided to the audience for any imperfection in this pursuit. • Throughout The Story, text of an unusual quality can be identified; it glows green at a hoof's touch. A given unusual-ink passage's relationship to the story almost invariably falls into at least one of three categories: ○ Divergences: Textual passages enforcing IPU's vision of the story's overall direction when narrative description is insufficient, either for exposition or interpreting unseen or trivial events; in other words, IPU's editorialization necessary for overall story flow. (Examples: Ch. 1, "Still, Berry's hardship..."; Ch. 4, "But she didn't care..."; Ch. 5, "Wakey wakey" (this may also be a Modification; see below); various instances in Ch. 6) ○ Modifications: Passages accompanied by IPU's own invisible actions in order to permit "correct" story flow. The actions are not given but can usually be guessed, such as a telekinetic nudge. (Examples: Ch. 2, "Then, without warning..." (nudge plus pleasant air blown in from outdoors); Ch. 2, "Suddenly, however, she decided..." (pleasant neck stimulation, possibly with pleasant odor); Ch. 7, "This is your story..." (telekinetic inner ear stimulation to produce annoying phantom noise)) ○ Self-Inclusions: Passages where IPU assumes the role of a narrator-actor in the story's context, even though the action was actually done independently of him; in other words, taking credit from a pony for their actions in order to make the narrator seem important. (Examples: Ch. 7, "Let's see a magic trick!" (stated by myself); Ch. 8, "But did you really earn it?" (stated by Colgate)) Upon preliminary consideration, the "mind control" hypothesis given by Pinkie Pie and, more recently, my two fellow BGs does not align with the given evidence for two reasons: there is no evidence of such an effect being used on Berry Punch, even when it would be very convenient to do so; and its effect simply cannot be observed in entire chapters of The Story (namely Ch. 3 and most of Ch. 5). Second, The Story--however incomplete--makes no foreshadowing implication as to its intended conclusion. The Story's overall intention cannot be guessed with total confidence from the overall sum of unusual-ink passages because both positive and negative consequences directly derive from them. It does not even bear a book title or meaningful chapter titles. The most likely purpose in this is an avant-garde presentation of a story which lacks an understood premise except when viewed in retrospect--that is, an extreme and unguided example of the slice-of-life storytelling style. I took the liberty of brainstorming some possible overall story arcs, regardless of whether they are ultimately criminal beyond the unsolicited and unnoticed manipulation of others' lives. This is by no means a complete list of possible 'stories'. They are as follows: • Berry Punch, in dealing with a carefully managed and desirably chaotic but tragically selfish lifestyle, inadvertently leads her daughter Sunny down a road of iniquity despite every effort to avoid it • Colgate, apparently unfazed but emotionally disturbed by events in her past, passionately seeks to reconcile with all those she has wronged and ultimately her previous employer • Carrot Top, recovering from various medical illnesses not yet described, gradually asserts herself as the most helpful and reliable in her close circle of embattled friends (my note: I don't like the egotistical implications of even presenting this, but it seems plausible) • Berry Punch and Colgate, in seeking to rekindle their old relationship, are challenged by the unexpected interest from and frustration with 'third wheel' Carrot Top (my note: if this was the intention, they're terribly far off the mark from reality--and it's a rather overdone plot) • Three bisexual mares bounce between promiscuity and the desire for greater meaning in a more closed, highly trust-based triad, with relationship drama abound • Berry Punch and Carrot Top consummate a new relationship--one which the jealous and envious Colgate is doomed to behold, again and again, due to her integral role in both of their lives • Berry Punch and Pinkie Pie consummate a new relationship--one which the jealous Colgate and the envious Carrot Top are doomed to behold, as the above (with possible Carrot/Pie intrigue as a side story) • Berry Punch and Berry Jam learn to imitate one another so effectively that they can and do insinuate each other into the other's professional, family, and intimate lives on a regular basis • Carrot Top and the secretly male Vinyl Scratch are even more secretly dra Dear Diary, Berry Punch somehow had the keen intuition to barge into Ditzy Doo's home and interrupt my criminal analysis (and she also wants to write in the diary--a coincidence, I'm sure). According to her (and, I assume, according to Colgate), I must never use this book for recording anything but diary entries ever again. I suppose they don't understand the good I'm trying to do here; but then again, being misunderstood should practically be my cutie mark at this point. Apologies if this comes off as rushed; she is kind of hovering just a couple paces off, waiting for me. Going over that analysis, I realize that I'm a lot more...self-centered than I'd like when writing. I'd never say or even imply these sorts of things in public. Perhaps my strength will forever lie in descriptive articles, where this crime is more-or-less impossible to commit. It also occurs to me that nopony reading this diary will be able to tell from it what's happened to me in the last several weeks. To be perfectly honest, I've been wondering about some of it myself. I've gone to my therapist twice in the span, during which blood samples were taken to track my troublesome post-transition hormonal balance. They're still making fine-tune adjustments, but it seems I'm finally, finally getting where I need to be. Woohoo! Unfortunately, the actual therapy part hasn't been anywhere nearly as thrilling. They want no part in this crazy little story of mine. I don't either, but it's my life! They always approach the matter of IPU as a personal or even an imaginary figure. They don't even care about how my friends have dealt with him, or even my pictures. Maybe they get paid to haul folks like me to the loony bin. Or maybe they're just bad/disinterested therapists. Perhaps they've been right about me a couple times in the past, but there's no chance I'm wrong this time around. Nopony will want to read any of the nonsense I write. Maybe it's the self-centered thing. Or maybe I'm just too boring. I could sure use some music in a time like this, but Ditzy's not keen on anything but her own daughter's flute-playing. It must be beautiful to a mother's ears, and it certainly was to mine at first; but it sure gets repetitive. Perhaps I should try to round her up some songs. That would give me something productive to do while the others micromanage the other aspects of my life. Get me out of the house, too. Oh, right: I'm living with Ditzy Doo again. I say "again" since I was here while constructing my house in the first place, after the real estate honchos decided they didn't want to have to deal with my kind. Don't ask me how I figured out what they were up to. There were some broken muzzles by the time I was done. Is that why Berry's taken a shine to me? That I also seem to have a proclivity for violent solutions to my personal problems? ...Geez, now I'm dropping bad puns. Oh well--still not as bad as IPU's needless alliteration and talking about the weather. Oh, Berry. You sly dog (or dog's master), you. I don't even care if all the world reads this. You're really starting to grow on me. Guess the only reason I'm not getting all obsessive (as is my wont) is because I'd really hate to come between you and your Cole. Whether I understand the thing between you or not, it must really be something for you not to stay physically separate after the worst break-up I've ever seen. I'm just being honest here. Smack me later if you have to. Not the same way you smack her, guessing from her scribbled-out text... Okay, guess I'm getting smacked for that right now. And Colgate, who the hay likes paperwork? Here I am trying to sort out the weirdness in our unexpected stalker/house guest, and you're coming off as the weirdest dentist in ponykind. I can relate to the nerves about anesthesia, though... I still haven't fully gotten over the drugs thing you did to me, but I at least understand you guys did it out of love for a friend. It was just the most horrible, screwed-up way you could possibly do it. And I don't think Cole got drugged, either. I'll explain that later. But then I still don't have an explanation for Chapter 4... But no more analysis! Right! We're supposed to be getting on with our lives, not bound up by the past. And even if I'm the last mare in the world who should be entrusted with such a task, I'll certainly oblige. I decided to take a walk before continuing. Helps to keep me from getting too crazy lost in myself. Surprised Berry hasn't done anything. She's just sitting here and frowning at me now--par for the course with her. (Ow, smacked again!) No, I don't hate Ponyville--not in the slightest. I can easily imagine a worse place to be. Same with the kind of friends I have. It could be way worse. At this point, my biggest concern is knowing I'll never have a lifelong friend, since I've already lived some of my life without any. How do I not let that tear at me forever? I can't just turn back the clock. There are some chances that I'll just never get again. The fight you guys had really got to me, when I realized I'm not the only one dealing with that and that it's a very real thing with very real consequences. The irreversible nature of time, I mean. So what's the difference between a Carrot who's destroyed by existential concerns, and a Carrot who--while still aware of the concerns--makes the more beautiful choice for their own sake? Maybe I'm not ready to answer that. But maybe I already have. I could've just stayed buried under the stove and let the earth swallow me up in my darkest hour. Colgate couldn't have gotten us both. I saved myself. I should be proud of that. Truly yours, Carrot Top P.S. Berry really is a butt. She should've just told me this right when she came in the door. DEAR DIARY JAM IS DEAD TO ME FOREVER, WHERE THE BUCK IS FIDO!? Berry Punch