I, like every other pony to live, have little to no memory of my foalhood. I do not remember learning to walk, nor do I remember my first words. This first chapter is not a memoir, but rather a biography of the pony I once was. I have no reason to include this section, but I assume that some reader may appreciate its presence.
The one piece of information that may surprise you surrounds my name. Being an earth pony, it may seem odd that I was given the name Starswirl. It is a very unicorn name, with an air of mystery thrown in for good measure. Some may say that I was destined from birth to be a great magician, but they lack one key piece of information for their equation. The name given to me by my parents was not Starswirl. I was, instead, given an common earth pony name instead. I was forced to choose the name Starswirl so that most of the world would make the assumption that I was a unicorn.
I was born and raised in the city of Mahehattan. I was, by all accounts, normal. I played with other ponies during recess, I stole from the cookie jar when mother wasn’t looking, and I even had my fair share of crushes as time went on. The only thing that set me apart was my imagination and lack of cutie mark. I probably stayed in my imagination too much as a foal, but that mental meandering was beneficial later on in my life. As for my cutie mark, many stallions did not gain their marks until they reached a higher degree of education. This was the case for me.
I was never the smartest in my class, nor was I the most popular. Instead of being in the spotlight, I was content with being alone on the sidelines, simply watching the drama that would unfold instead of participating in it. I was quiet by nature, and rarely talked in class. I never felt that I had much to add to the conversations. Instead, I focused on my own mental playgrounds and worlds.
As my elementary education came to a close and my secondary education filled my life, I was enrolled in the Agricultural Academy. At the time, it was the only school that earth ponies were allowed to attend. The unicorns went off to study magic, as well as political and sociological research and the pegasi studied the weather patterns and systems that they would one day control. I, just like all of the ponies before me, believed that the unicorns and pegasi were a step above the earth ponies. This did not bother me, as being an earth pony meant I was given special power over the ground to feed the world. I was content with my race being subservient to those superior.
In school, as the hormones began to take control of my once levelheaded friends, I was surrounded with a new world of rebellion and freedom. Couples would form overnight, and then dissipate the next day. I saw their ventures to discover self quite meaningless and rash, but that probably stemmed from the lack of interest from the female demographic. Either way, I quickly defaulted to my imaginary worlds and ignored most of the chaotic happenings around me.
This was the beginning of the worst time in my life. I separated myself from the rest of the herd, and by doing so I let a feeling of pride well up in myself. It all started when I was accepted into Canterlot University, while most of my peers went off to be farmers directly. I was overjoyed at the news, not because of where I was going, but, as I see so clearly now, because I was becoming superior.
I began to revel in my own importance.
Now, with that out of the way, we may move on to the memoirs.
Even in my old age, I can still remember that day I stepped out into the world and began attending the University. The buildings themselves seemed to be perfect in their construction as they had been meticulously carved out of massive blocks of pure marble. I remember having no understanding as to how they managed to bring such material to the top of canterlot.
As the ponies trotted about, eager to reconnect with friends and mourn the departure of their families, I felt frozen in time. Everything around me seemed to move with such precision that I could not help but think that it was all rehearsed. My classes were to start at eight am sharp and I was ready, but I didn’t feel ready. I watched the dynamics of the crowd that undulated around me, trying to parse any information from it. I guessed that the general movement of the hive mind would somehow tell me where to stand, sit, walk, and talk, but instead it only confused me more.
Looking back on that event, I realized I never took a moment to turn and look around myself. I was only looking ahead toward that chaotic sea. If I had simply looked to my left, I may have seen another pony standing beside me, fearing the exact same thoughts. But life is not about what if, no, life is about what now? That question that we always find ourselves asking, but we hardly ever receive an answer for our ponderings.
The massive bell tower that stood in the center of campus was the one that finally pulled me out of that rift in time. The loud bells chimed their tune, alerting anypony within earshot that there were only fifteen minutes left in the seventh hour. Class would begin soon, and with it I felt a sense of pride. I had come so far to stand at the base of these steps, and now I was beginning to see the fruits of my efforts. My parents were no longer by my side, no, instead I was alone, independent, and ready to tackle any challenge that life would throw at me. It would only be a few short months later that I would lose that invincibility of my intelligence, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I found myself following that crowd into the massive open doors to the school. It was wonderful, that feeling of power and position in a place of dignity and respect, and I reveled in it. I still remember pushing my way through the crowd, not with my strength, but rather with my determination and confidence. I liked the thought that I was somehow superior to those around me, that I lived a life somehow above to my peers, but again, I was simply naive.
My first class of the day was Agriculture 101, a class that I would learn to despise. It was located in one of the large lecture halls on campus. It was not difficult to find, for it was the largest of the seven and it was located just inside the main campus building. Hundreds upon hundreds poured into the doors and filed into their seats, I was one of them, one of the eager ones who was ready to start their lives as a student. I wanted to learn.
I spoke to nopony around me, it didn’t even cross my mind to socialize, I was too focused on the stage that sat so far away. Soon I would be watching one of the greatest agricultural minds give his first lecture of many to the group. I was excited, nervous, and I think I was beginning to smell. I had a nasty tendency to neglect completely washing myself in favor of a few more minutes to sleep, and that was the case in this instance. My body had conquered the soap I had used to clean it, and now I was beginning to smell like an earth pony as well.
A loud crash echoed through the room as the porters closed the door as the clock struck eight. The university was precise, organized, and unforgiving. The room grew silent, only to hear the faint knocking of a poor soul who hadn’t followed the herd into the room. I snickered, my mind reassuring myself that I was inside and that I was doing better than somepony else. I suppose many of the class thought the same.
“Greetings, fellow earth ponies,” a booming voice echoed from the stage. The professor stood up front, but I couldn’t quite see him. I knew he was there, but the manes of the hundreds before me shifted into every line of sight I tried to establish. “That will be your first lesson, and probably the most important. To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is unacceptable.”
I remember feeling a chill run through my body. Not because I was afraid, rather I was excited that I had been one of the responsible ones. I was, for lack of a better phrase, a good boy.
“As you already know,” the professor started, “Earth ponies were born to tend the land. Nothing more, nothing less.”
As I fumbled for my quill and notebook, I captured those few words in my mind. It’s funny. The whole point of the notebook was to remind me of the things I should remember, but it has long since been lost. Instead the phrase etched itself into my mind. I decided to believe that lie that I so blindly followed all of my life.
“As tenders of the land,” the professor continued in his pompous soliloquy, “We have a duty to be farmers, planters, and caretakers of this earth. We cannot leave our posts to meddle in the affairs of the unicorns, nor can they control the weather. We were born with different purposes, our destinies etched into the very blood in our veins. This is why you are here. Your desire to till the land and work it to provide for you is innate in your very soul. Remember that as you study, for this is your purpose.”
He paused for a moment, as though he was challenging the crowd. Nopony spoke up, for none believed that it was their place to challenge that great mind that stood before them. I didn’t see him smirk, but I felt it. I felt his arrogance as he watched the crowd, daring them to confront him. Maybe he and I were not so different. We both reveled in our superiority. The only difference was that one of us was above the rest, and the other simply filled a seat among the sea of ponies.
As his lecture continued on, he waxed eloquent about the assuredness of his assumptions. At the time, when I young and naive, I believed him. His authority was so monumentally overwhelming that I could not help but agree with whatever he said. He had control over our minds, an ability to bend and twist ponies into perfect, form fitting molds that would create the same stamped personality en masse. I was under his spell from moment he started to the time the porters opened the door behind us. I was enraptured, unable to consider anything but the reality that my destiny stood firmly on the ground.
The lecture was over seemingly before it began. I had been so entranced in his speech that I was unable to even comprehend time itself. I had taken the bait, and his ethos ruled over me like a general. I was nothing, he had told everypony that, and yet, somehow, we all readily accepted it. Everypony fed off of his arrogance, stroking their own individual egos as he spoke with power and rhetoric that I had never before witnessed. I was under his spell, and I loved every minute of it.
As the group spilled out into the hallway, I couldn’t help but hold my head just a little higher in the crowd, asserting my height over the few that were shorter. I had just witnessed a god, and lived to tell the tale.
My next class was Finance 101, conveniently located in the same lecture hall that I had just exited. I had an hour to do as I pleased, but I did not use it well. I could have spent that hour poking around campus, finding places to study and to explore. I could have spent that hour looking for new friends, a group that I could recognize as a family away from family. Instead, much to my regret, I trotted out onto the fields and picked up a clump of dirt from the ground. To this day I still feel embarrassed for that fool as he tried to apply the few pieces of knowledge he had as he stared at that mass of ground. I tried to understand the dirt, to feel the dirt, to be the dirt. I was so entranced, focused so much attention on that piece of ground, that I began to lose sight of who I was.
I should have known that the others were snickering at me. The ones who had been immune to the ramblings of that professor were assuredly jeering at my stupidity. I say this because I would do the same. There I was, enraptured in the ground that I had walked on for all of my life. I, in my pride, had let myself become a fool.
An agonizingly long 45 minutes later, I heard the sound of the clock tower. Again, that earsplitting sound echoed through the campus and stirred me from my trance. I gently placed the dirt back on the ground and trotted off toward the lecture hall. Again, that herd of my inferior peers trotted into the building. I learned from my past mistake and chose to sit closer to the stage. I wanted to see the professor, to understand every last emotion that he presented to us. I was hungry for knowledge, and I was about to be fed.
Again, the porters closed the door precisely at 10 o'clock and I sat smugly as another poor soul rapped on the door. I was two for two and my pride swelled even further.
“Hello everyone!” a jovial voice announced from the stage. Immediately I scoffed at it, my pride desiring more than a happy go lucky teacher. He looked to the back of the room, where he could barely hear the knocking of a pony on the door.
“When was the last time you didn’t open the door when somepony knocked?” he shouted to the porters. “It sounds like somepony is eager to learn today, why not let him in?”
I couldn’t help but hold my jaw open. It wasn’t right to me, for the professor to break the schedule, we were supposed to be punished for our wrongdoing, not shown mercy. I resolved, then and there, to despise this teacher. I felt as though he did not understand what I thought I knew. I felt that he must be somehow beneath me.
I glared at the stallion as he walked into the room. Immediately I made these rash assumptions about who he was, what he was like, and how terrible of a pony he truly was. He was the definition of everything I was not, and I hated him for it. That was the first time of two that I would genuinely despise a pony for his actions.
As I tried to pay attention to that stallion in the front of the room, I couldn’t help but feel as though he was somehow a lesser. His language was plain, his posture informal, and instead of being above the crowd, he was in it. He asked us questions, encouraged us after giving us our homework assignment, and reassured us that the course wouldn’t be difficult.
I compared him to that commanding stallion that lead the class before, and how my current professor could be nothing like him. I was in a dog eat dog world, and somepony was trying to feed me. I did not accept the food, but rather I focused my education on the most difficult of subjects. I remember that first class seemed to drag on for hours, and I could not bring myself to pay attention to that kind stallion. I decided to read the text instead of attending class. I wanted to ensure that my education could not be marred by his jovial attitude.
I was one of the first out of the doors as the class came to an end. I had seen the other side of college, the gentler, more understanding side, and I hated it. The way the stallion encouraged us was frustrating. I had fought my way to where I was. Through years of hardships and turmoil I surmounted my peers and strode into a new era of education, and this professor had the audacity to treat me like I was nothing. I was infuriated with his kindness, frustrated at his humility, and shocked at his forgiveness. In short, I refused to believe he was above me, I decided to treat him, in my own bloated head, as a subordinate.
As my mind snapped back to the present, I realized how much of a predicament I was in. The group had broken up, dispersing into their various classes, and I was left to fend for myself. It was lunchtime, yet I didn’t have a clue where the cafeteria was. I thought that it would surely be marked, but, to my surprise, the only directions I could find were from eavesdropping on the small gatherings of friends scattered about the campus.
I watched as the groups peeled off in a myriad of directions. For the first time since I had entered the campus, I realized that I was completely alone. I tried to extinguish the thought, and the implications of my solitude, but they only grew as the courtyard began to drain. I found myself, in sporadic fleeting moments, wanting to be able to talk to somepony else, but that desire for fellowship was crushed by my pride. I wouldn’t talk to anypony, for they were not deserving of my company. They were my peers, and all I did was make them imaginary subordinates.
That was my first mistake.
As I kept pondering the consequences of simply talking to another stallion, I was met with a new realization: I was alone. I had felt the traces hours ago, when I had first walked through that group of ponies toward my first class. At that time, I had shrugged it off, believing that somehow I could still remain as an independent being above those around me. I was able to keep the world beneath me using the one resource I had an endless supply of; pride.
Now, however, as the stallions and mares departed from the courtyard to their classes, I was confronted with the effects of isolation. Thoughts pushed themselves into my mind as my pride began to falter. Like a crumbling castle, my ego was beginning to crack.
That stallion, right over there, my charity whispered as my eyes caught a glimpse of another across the courtyard, all you have to do is ask him where the dining hall is.
It was a tempting thought, but almost immediately, another appeared. But you shouldn’t have to ask anypony for directions. This voice was much more hostile. It was defending its crumbling castle, and I was sympathizing with it. No, you shouldn’t have to ask for anything. Everything you do should be earned, just like how you got here. If you do not know where the cafeteria is, then you should go hungry.
It made sense. I wasn’t deserving of a reward if I had not earned it. I had neglected discovering where the cafeteria was located, and therefore, I did not deserve the reward of food. It was simple broken logic, but I was too blind to see past it.
As I was busy chastising myself for not having this small piece of information, my mind was abruptly pulled from its self-loathing. I felt a force strike me in the side. It was not intentional, that much I was sure, but my adrenaline rose all the same. My entire body trembled, violently reacting to such a force. I stumbled to the side, my legs barely able to catch myself while remaining in perfect posture.
Before I had a chance to confront the stallion, he spoke up. All he said was “I’m sorry about that,” before my castle of pride took over once more. I noted two things about the voice, two prejudices that built themselves up before I even saw who had stumbled into me. First, I noted that the voice was not just apologetic, but genuinely filled with concern. The stallion who had crashed into me was more interested in my well being rather than his. Secondly, I realized that the voice was familiar.
“Say, weren’t you in my finance class?” The words stung my soul. Half of me wanted to break down my pride and get to know that jovial professor, but I couldn’t. Instead of being the stallion I knew I should, I decided to be the one that I would come to hate.
“I believe so.” The words rolled off of my tongue like venom. I wanted to be caustic to damage that stallion that was being so open. Even though I had not faced the stallion, I could feel him flinch. I could feel the pain that I had caused him because I was too selfish to do anything else.
“O-oh…” he stammered, his mind seemed to be recoiling from the unnecessary hostility. “Are you headed to lunch?”
“Probably.” Every time I replied with disinterest, and he reacted with sadness, I felt satisfied. The beast of my pride was being fed with each and every opportunity I had to destroy the stallion who was putting his life aside to help a lesser.
“Well would you like to join me? I have always enjoyed getting a feedback about my classes.”
A chance to show him the error of his ways? I can’t pass this up. “Alright.” My voice still had its arrogant tone, but I noticed that he wasn’t reacting as violently as before. Part of me was relieved, as my lunch would go on with food in sight. I was also quite interested in letting this stallion know what I truly thought of his class. I was given the opportunity to change this stallion into who he should be, or at least, who I thought he should be.
I finally moved my gaze from the world around me to the stallion. I wanted to seem as disinterested as possible, but something about him made me crack the slightest smile. He was younger than I had realized. His hair wasn’t greying, his eyes were still bright, but he seemed to have a sort of glow around his persona. He was happy, and something deep inside me was not.
“When is your next class?” he asked as he started toward the cafeteria.
“Noon.”
“So we have an hour,” he said as he glanced at me. I was sure that he noted the confusion on my face. He could see through my prideful exterior and could somehow make out the true me. It was as comforting as it was frightening. “Let’s make the best of it, shall we?”
The cafeteria was on the other side of the campus, providing us with a few unadulterated minutes to talk. I had made so many assumptions about this stallion and who he was. I was starting to see that he was a pony, just like me, nothing more, nothing less.
“So why did you choose Canterlot University?” he asked as we began our journey.
“Well,” I started, trying to find the most eloquent way to phrase my response, “The Agricultural program here was the best in the nation.”
“So you are studying Agriculture Any specific concentration?”
“Cereal production.”
“Fascinating.”
His response struck me, never had someone made such a cliche response sound so genuine.
“From an economic standpoint, ” he began as we rounded the final bend to the cafeteria, “cereal production is one of the most lucrative fields right now.”
“That’s why I chose it,” I replied with a slight nod of the head. “I knew of its benefits and the wide reaching elements of its employment. Everypony uses cereals in nearly everything they consume.”
“And since the market is growing every day, we are seeing a new push toward a more cereal-centric meal standard.”
By now we had reached the cafeteria doors. As he pulled the door open for me, we were met with the din of the dining hall. It was a large building filled with ponies, all eager to converse with their newfound peers. Walking in with a professor was quite an ego boost for myself. With the short few statements I had exchanged with him, I realized that he was much more intelligent than I had led myself to believe.
As I started down the line, tray in hoof, I came up with an idea. This stallion should know how smart I really am. I scanned the menus and foods, searching out for the most complex cereal connection I could make. I was still uneducated, but I wanted to continue to make an impression of intelligence on this professor. I needed to keep my castle of pride intact.
Then, through the sea of ponies, I spotted the pasta buffet line. Bingo. I knew that pasta was a derivative of wheat, a cereal, and I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to flaunt my knowledge.
“Professor,” I stopped. I just realized that I hadn’t properly introduced myself. I was too busy being self important to even get the name of my professor.
“Yes, Starswirl?” He didn’t call me starswirl, for that was the name I chose later in life, but for my own sake, and the sake of continuity, I will be using the name Starswirl in this memoir.
And he knows mine, great, I thought before beginning my intellectual journey. “Do you see that pasta in the corner?”
“I do,” he started as a wry smile crawled across his face “but you need to be upfront with it to have a chance.”
Inwardly, I was erupting in laughter, but all I could manage through that pride was simply rolling my eyes. “Regardless,” I said, dismissing the quip, “That is one of the prime examples of—”
“What’ll ya have?” a commanding voice shouted from my side. I was startled, but I quickly contained myself and turned to the server.
“A daisy sandwich,” I said directly.
“We are out of daisies, would clover be alright?”
I nodded as I turned back to the professor to continue my spiel. “As I was saying, pasta is becoming a staple in modern day diets. With ponies finding its production cheaper and the nutritional value higher, it is becoming one of the most use-”
“You sure do speak like you know what you’re talking about,” a voice said from behind the professor. I flinched, for I recognized that tone, it was the same that I had used with the professor I was now trying to impress.
“I would like to think that I do,” I responded as I cocked my head to the side to see around my professor. The pony who had responded had done the same. Immediately I realized that his head was tilted back ever so slightly.
“Well clearly, you know nothing of cereal production.” His sweeping comment struck me like a hoof across the face. “You see,” he began with the most high-flown toss of his mane. That moment was when I saw it. Protruding from the center of his skull was a piece of bone that somehow made him automatically above me. As soon as I realized what he was, I began to regret ever opening my mouth. “The production of cereal only seems to be going up. During the flowering fruit shortage a few decades ago, ponies began looking for alternative nutritional sources. The one that seemed the most promising was cereal. It had a wide variety of plants that could be grown in an even broader spectrum of climate zones.”
I felt a need to listen to him. He knew what he was talking about, and the way he spoke made me feel like I knew nothing at all. I noticed that the professor, an earth pony himself, was also paying attention to the student. I didn’t know if it was out of his kindness, or out of the knowledge that unicorns were superior.
“Soon, the demand for new food types began to feed an industry.” He looked at me with a confident smile. “I can only assume you are studying to be part of that industry.”
“I am.”
“Well then, you may be disappointed to hear that the market is flooded. The amount of cereal production majors being hired is going down each year.”
The words cut into me like a knife. Within only a few minutes, this unnamed unicorn had completely discounted my intelligence and my career choice. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I was forced to listen to this voice of perdition. As he droned on, I began to formulate a few choice thoughts of my own. I didn’t like this unicorn, and he wasn’t going to simply tell me that my intelligence was going to waste.
“You don’t need to explain this to me. This is my field.”
“Oh,” he said, more out of disdain rather than realization. “So you’re studying cereal production?”
“I am.”
“Ah, I assumed you were.”
I wanted respond, I wanted to attack his very being, but he had already begun on another tangent. All I could do, was wait for him to continue, and keep the rage that was building within from boiling over.
“So,” I exclaimed, interrupting him during one of his trains of thought. “Where exactly did you get all of this information? I assume you have sources for your facts.”
The unicorn rolled his eyes and chuckled. He glanced around, as though he was rallying a group of ponies to his side, ready to cheer for his next comment. “I’m the source. I published a paper in the Journal of the Agrarian Society last fall. It chronicled the newest and latest theories on cereal production and their economic impacts. I’m not surprised you didn’t see it. It was part of a larger section I penned on the drastic changes we are seeing in the economics of farming.”
“If that is the case,” I stammered, trying to gain my footing in my crumbling castle, “Then why does the cereal production major still hold the highest average wage out of college?”
“A good analogy is that the market is like a shower. It wants a lot of hot water because it is cold, so it turns the faucet to hot. The water isn’t immediately hot, in fact its quite cold, so the market turns the faucet hotter still. Soon, however, the market will receive all of the hot water it had requested with the faucet, and it will be forced to turn it cold once more. The hot water will go to waste, and, cereal production majors and the like, will be left without a job.”
I was speechless. Everything he had said made perfect sense, and here I was, trying to make ends meet with a major that didn’t matter. I turned my attention back to the meal line and requested the other pieces of food that I desired, but I was no longer hungry. The professor that walked behind me said nothing. He must have known my pain, but he did not address it.
I’m sure I look like an idiot now. I strolled, head hung low, over to the tables. I focused my energy on the tray that balanced precariously on my hoof. Anything was better than having to face the reality that I had just been so rudely given. Is my major truly worthless? Am I really just wasting my time here? Thoughts of confusion began to fill my head as I struggled to coincide who I was with what I had just been told.
“Starswirl?”
I turned my attention to the sympathetic professor who had sat himself across from me. I wanted to respond, to apologize for everything I had done to him, but all I could manage was silence.
“Look around you,” he said with a comforting smile. He let himself lean onto the table before continuing. “What do you see?”
I turned my attention to the mass of ponies that sat around the room. A sea of colorful manes and coats ebbed and bobbed as though it was breathing itself. They sat in rows of tables, but that was the only bit of organization to their chaos. Ponies came and left the building some in groups, and others alone. Some wore hoodies, advertising the university to the rest of the students, others wore hats memorializing their favorite sports teams, and others still were comfortable simply being who they were.
“I see a group of ponies all eager to learn,” I said with a shrug. “There’s nothing much more to it than that.”
“Oh, but there is,” the professor said as he gestured to the small raised area behind him. “What do you notice about them?”
It took me a while to get his point. At first, all I could see was that same ocean of colored hair and organized chaos, but it slowly began to dawn on me. A particular pony in the crowd caught my attention, it was the unicorn that had confronted me in the buffet line. One by one, I realized a pattern. “They’re all unicorns,” I whispered.
“Exactly, starswirl,” the professor started as he leaned closer. He was about to tell me something that I would fight throughout the rest of my life. “You see, this University, and world actually, runs under the unspoken rule that unicorns are on a plane higher than the rest of us.”
I had known this for a while, being raised in canterlot taught you the ins and outs of unspoken etiquette, but somehow I had not grasped its extent.
“The reason I did not speak up, was that earth ponies are not to address unicorns unless the unicorn addresses them.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but somehow the words were deafening
“What?”
“Speak when spoken to,” he said, his voice calm yet stern. “The unicorns here are some of the top thinkers of our time. If they say something, it is because it is true and should be spoken.”
I was speechless. A professor, a stallion with the knowledge to teach others, was telling me to keep quiet and accept anything that was told to me. This must be some sort of joke. “Has anypony ever dared to speak up and call a unicorn out on their bullshit?”
“The last earth pony to do that was ejected from the school,” the professor said before casting a glance at the unicorn that had started the mess. “And you came close. If you hadn’t left the conversation when you did, who knows what kind of mess you would have created.”
I tried to close my gaping jaw, but my body was failing me. This institution that I had worked so hard to attend had deemed me as less because I was not part of a group I could never dream of entering.
“Has the council ever tried to do anything about this?” I asked as I watched the flow of ponies from the buffet split off to their varying sections of the cafeteria. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“It never does,” he said as he leaned back and took a bite from his sandwich. “But it’s better than before. It used to be that earth ponies couldn’t attend university at all. Times are changing.” He let out a sigh as he swirled the water in his glass. “Maybe one day we will be able to eat alongside of them.” That was the moment that I realized the sparkle in his eyes had disappeared. He had thought of something that had made an impact on his life, something had changed him, and not for the better.
As he watched the swirling liquid in his cup for an extended period of time, I decided to ask him. What’s the harm in asking, right? “Is something wrong?”
“Oh,” he said as he pulled his gaze away from his water. “No, everything is fine.”
He was distracted, some thought was pulling his mind deeper into himself. I had to figure out what it was.
“That was pretty unconvincing.”
“It doesn’t need to be convincing, it just has to ensure that you do not try to pry further,” he muttered as he took a drink from his glass. His tone caught me off guard, it didn’t sound like the jovial professor whom I had met only minutes before. As much as I wanted to continue on, I kept my mouth closed. The road I was traveling was one I had no business following. For the rest of lunch we sat in silence. I had no idea how to reconcile what I had said, no way of mending the mistake I had committed.
As we sat in the cafeteria in silence, I felt as though I was losing the only friend I had made. It was only a few minutes later that he dismissed himself, despite only having eaten a few bites from his sandwich. I needed to follow him, to make him understand that I was ready to help, but I did not. Instead, I simply remained in my chair, thinking about myself and about the unicorn that had so dismissively proved my degree worthless.
Several minutes passed as I stared at my small meal, wondering whether or not I should continue to fill my disinterested stomach. I didn’t think about much of anything during that time. I simply let the feelings of being alone finally manifest themselves in my soul. For the second time in an hour, I felt truly distant from the world. Ponies of all colors rushed around me, chattering to themselves about their own interests, and yet I was completely isolated.
I felt as though nopony cared.
The entire crowd seemed to shift as the bell tower signalled the end of the lunch period. I, along with the rest of the cafeteria, dispensed of my tray and exited into the light of day. We had ample time to get to our classes, and most ponies were using that time to continue making friends and enjoying their time together. I, however, was dead set on making my way to the next class in my schedule; Equestrian History 201.
I had thoroughly enjoyed history during my secondary education. This enjoyment made pursuing advanced placement courses not only rewarding for my academics, but also for my own imagination. I reveled in the stories of how equestria was founded, how the two sisters came to power and defeated Discord, and how the world had flourished under the peace established by Celestia and Luna.
The classes let me imagine battles of old, and ponder on their effects on the rest of the world. I loved the way that everything was connected, the way that nopony could escape the history of the world they lived in. It was the perfect subject for my musings as a colt, and it was the perfect subject for study now.
My pace to class was much faster than usual, and I was becoming excited to see what kind of knowledge I would be learning. History was the one subject that I loved, and I was about to get it in its most concentrated form.
I was at the lecture hall before I knew it. The auditorium was only a few doors down from the others I used, but it was much smaller than I had expected. Instead of the massive hall I had been introduced to, it was a simple classroom. The lights were off, and there was nopony to be found. After checking and rechecking my schedule to ensure that I was where I needed to be, I sat myself down on the floor and began to wait. There’s no use in standing anyway.
It wasn’t long until another stallion strode into the hallway and repeated the actions that I had just done. I waited patiently for him to address me, to ask if this was the right place.
“Are you here for Equestrian History 201?” he asked as he checked his paper again. “I could have sworn that was supposed to be in this room.”
I felt a twinge inside of me. That castle that I had built up, the one that now lay in a heap of shameful ruins, was trying to come back. Something deep inside of me tried so desperately to prove myself worthy. I knew I didn’t know the answer, I knew that I was as unsure as he, but I still responded with, “This is the correct room.” The confidence I felt was fake, and I knew it, but he did not.
“Thanks,” the stallion said as he sat himself next to me. “I guess there’s no point in standing around anyway.”
“Quite,” I said as I let that small castle arrange a few more bricks onto its foundation.
The stallion nodded and looked away, probably from a feeling of discomfort that I had forced on the discussion. We sat in silence, both of us trying to keep to ourselves rather than have a discussion like civilized ponies. We simply sat and stared at the various objects around us. All I could think about was whether he thought I was somepony special, if he thought I was on a tier higher than him. Despite having been thrown from my pedestal an hour ago, and becoming quite damaged in the process, I still wanted to climb back to that self centered height of before.
“My apologies!” an old voice shouted from the hallway. An aged stallion was moving as fast as his legs would allow. His saddlebag was heavy with books, yet he seemed to have no issue carrying them while galloping through the halls.
He reached the door and quickly strode inside. I rose to follow him, silently and precisely moving to ensure that those around me would know of my feigned importance. I was ready to learn, and I wanted to prove that to the professor in every way I could.
“What a great first impression I have made!” he exclaimed as he raced to the chalkboard and began scribbling onto its surface.
As he was preparing the room, I found my seat in the very front of the class. I wanted to be in front, to gather all of the information I could on my favorite subject. I was ready to learn.
“Alright class!” the spry old stallion said as he leapt to the podium. “We are a little behind schedule, but I think everything will be alright. Welcome to History 201! I will be your professor, Professor Bales.” He threw his hoof behind him to point toward the scrawl on the chalkboard. His voice sounded like a squeaky door hinge that was inexplicably excited about being a doorhinge. There was a constant smile on his face.
I could hear a few other ponies chuckling at his antics. It was either that or the terribly written lettering on the board. He seemed a few strands short of a haystack, but I would soon find out the reality of this stallion.
“Umm…” a voice from the back of the classroom spoke up, “I think you wrote the B in your name backwards.”
I cringed. We weren’t supposed to correct the professor, or at least that is what I thought.
“Hmm?”
“The B in Bales, the loops are supposed to go the other way.”
“Ah!” he muttered as he hobbled over to the board and quickly corrected his mistake. “Either way, let us begin!”
The rest of the class seemed as confused as I was. Was this really our professor for History 201? The second semester course?
“Instead of handing out the syllabus, or explaining who I am, why not tell a story instead?”
The room was silent. What is wrong with him?
“If you haven’t noticed, I am not a normal professor.”
The class chuckled in agreement.
“And that is because history is not a normal subject. You see,” he started.
The entire class was quickly becoming enraptured in his speech. And we all waited in baited breath as he paused for a moment. He caught the eye of every pony in the class, ensuring they were all ready to receive his lecture.
“History is one grandiose story! Everypony plays a part in it, but only a select, important few ever really become remembered. In the same way, you can hear history lectured and commanded to you, or,” he left the podium and strolled down the center aisle of the room. “You can live history yourself. Through extensive research and lots of study, I have concluded that being slightly loopy draws my students in and really makes them understand the interaction of ponies that make up history!”
By now, we we were all enchanted by his speech. He was so attention getting that nopony in the class could help but give him his full attention.
“So! Let us begin from the beginning!”
I’ve heard this a million times, I thought as my mind begged me to not to put it through that agonizing talk of the founding of Equestria.
The professor scanned the room, probably noting that the ponies were not nearly as fascinated as they had been.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I see most of you are familiar with the story of Equestria’s beginnings, so let’s jump to something more exciting.”
I was beginning to see why this stallion in particular was teaching the class. He understood how to teach.
“So! Let us start with the rule of discord.” He slammed his hooves on the desk of an unsuspecting mare. She let out a yip in fright.
“It was a dark and dreary time…” he growled as he rubbed his hooves together. It was the way I had imagined the beginnings of those great stories I would read as a colt. I loved it.
“During his rule, the world was left to stagnate in cesspool of varying magic. It was his monopoly of sorts, and he reveled in his ability to stop all progress that all of the unicorns tried to conceive. Whenever they would create a new spell, or conjure up an incantation, he would ensure that something would foul up. When they tried to fire energy beams from their horn, out would pop glitter instead. When they tried to levitate something from the ground, it would grow these eerie mushrooms all over its surface.”
The room was silent. All eyes were on the professor.
“This went on for a duration that is unknown to us. Discord decided to also foul up their conceptions of time itself. This was probably the most cruel trick he played on us historians. We have little knowledge as to how time was changed during that period. Some report that the reign only lasted for a few moments, others believe that it lasted for centuries. Needless to say, he was a very naughty being.”
“Well… Then one day, two alicorns appeared from seemingly nowhere. One was white as snow, and the other, as violet as the night sky. Together, they used a set of stones they dubbed the “Elements of Harmony” to defeat this vile creature, effectively turning him to stone!” By now the professor had ventured back to his podium, climbed atop it, and thrust his hoof into the air in victory.
He paused for a moment. I, along with the entire class, was completely awestruck at this stallion. It was obvious he knew what he was talking about, but the way he delivered it was so strange that we couldn’t help but listen to his rants. Within only minutes, I had decided that this was going to be my favorite professor for the year, and he was in my favorite subject nonetheless. Needless to say, I was excited.
As the professor clambered down from his podium and started on other subjects, I decided to close my eyes. Not out of tiredness, mind you, but rather so I could see the history unfold. I could see the wars he described, the leaders he ranted about, and the ponies as they stood as pawns in the entire matter. It was amazing, and I loved every second of it.
Class was over seemingly before it began, and I could tell that there was a sense of frustration among the group. Everypony wanted to hear more, but we all had our other classes to attend.
“I hope you enjoyed class! I’ll see you here on Wednesday I presume!”
A volley of gratitude, laughter, and general happiness erupted from the group. We had all seen the other other side of college, the wacky, crazy, and amazingly informative side. Everypony loved it.
As soon as I stepped out of my class, I turned my attention toward the clock. It was 12:55. A wave of terror washed over me, freezing the smile on my face. I was to be at my applied chemistry class in 5 minutes. The only problem was that the class was in the science wing of campus. A surge of adrenaline washed over me as I briskly trotted out of the building.
My legs began to gallop before I told myself to run. I couldn’t be late to class. As I slowly picked up speed, carefully dodging the crowds that flowed through the campus, my mind began to drift to that stallion that had lingered into my finance class late. I hated him, and for no reason I cast judgement on him, believing that I was somehow better. Now, however, being put into the same situation, I was beginning to understand the reality that he had faced. I rounded corners, leaning so hard that I nearly lost traction against the grass. With every step I could feel my heart racing faster. I was not going to be late, I was going to be better than that stallion in finance 101.
As my heart pounded, I began counting the seconds. I had no way of keeping track of the time otherwise, but I was making progress, and that was what mattered. As I counted, I let my mind wander. I was stressed, and whenever I was faced with a stressful situation I would always let my mind drift to my imagination. It was what kept me focused. Strangely enough, it seemed to work. Every time I was presented with a new conundrum, I would simply let my mind drift away every now and again, like taking a breath while drinking water. The idle thoughts let me pass the time in peace rather than stress. I was breathing heavy, but I was not frantic. My mind was at peace.
As I stumbled through the doors to the buildings, I checked the clock on the wall. The second hand pointed toward the floor. I had only seconds of time to get to my class. Frantically, I raced to find the room. I could feel the tension in the air rise once more as the doors to the classes closed around me. I couldn’t let my mind get distracted now, for now I was about to become the very stallion that I had hated.
I rounded the corner, hoping upon hope that my class would soon be revealed to me. By some miracle, it was. I stumbled into the classroom, wiped the sweat from my brow, and quickly found the only empty seat in the room. I was in.
“Well,” the professor said as cast a glance in my direction. “I see somepony was eager to learn.”
The class chuckled as I struggled to catch my breath. His comment was amusing, but all I could manage was a weak smile. As my mind turned its attention toward the rest of the room, I realized what kind of a place the lecture room was. Instead of being an auditorium, or a simple hall, it was a lab. Various test tubes and beakers filled the shelves on the wall, and the small nozzles on the table itself were labeled as sources for different gases.
I also noted that several of the students were unicorns.
“Either way, welcome, all of you, to applied chemistry 101.” The professor walked to the board and precisely wrote his name onto the grainy surface. “Much to my chagrin, my name is Sparky.” He turned toward the class with a serious look in his eye. “I would prefer to be called Professor Spark.”
What a shift, I thought as I averted my eyes from the professor’s gaze. He was not hateful, but he was menacing. He seemed to be a down to business pony, one who would rather have work done and lessons learned rather than a few humorous quips or a comfortable atmosphere.
“I hope you are all having a wonderful first day,” he started as he walked over to the elaborate chemistry set. It stood as a barrier between the class and him. “To begin our time together, I would like to start on an experiment that is relatively complex in procedure, but simple to understand in theory.”
Spark took the small test tube from his desk and carefully dripped its purple liquid into the top of the apparatus. Immediately a chain reaction began to occur, as the chemicals began to change color.
“This is the process that is used for the creation of enriched nitrogen. This chemical is used extensively in farms and other industries around the nation.” He glanced around the classroom, ensuring everypony was paying attention to his lecture. “Despite our differences,” he said as his gazed drifted between the two segments of the class, “Chemistry works the same for all of us. I trust that most of you would leave your prejudices at the door. It will be for the best of all of us”
It was obvious that the professor, an earth pony, was addressing unicorns in such a way. It seemed dangerous to me, for one of us to dare to call out a unicorn on their bigotry. Then again, I began to notice subtleties about the classroom. The room was segregated, unicorns on one side, earth ponies on the other. I couldn’t help but notice that the tools and instruments that were allocated to the unicorns seemed to have a cleaner look, as if they had been brand new. The ones to be used by the earth ponies were scratched and marred, but unmistakably clean.
The professor began to go over the details of the class. The typical expectations, rules, guidelines, and introductions that I had become familiar with through my first day at university. He expected our attention, just like we expected his guidance. He wanted us to work together, he implored us to always try and put our differences aside. Unfortunately, as I would discover, that was akin to asking oil and water to mix. He meant well, he wanted to make his classroom a progressive society, rather than the pseudo caste system of the real world, but the result was the same as always: earth ponies on one side, and unicorns on the other.
I never wanted to be left out, and this professor was doing his best to try and make all of us feel as though we deserved our seat in the room. He meant well, he was trying to do the right thing, to bring us together under a unifying pursuit of a knowable truth, but there were some boundaries that simply could not be crossed. During the lecture, one of the unicorns decided that he could not stand being put on the same plane as earth ponies.
As the unicorn rose from his seat and walked toward the door, the professor said nothing. It was as though he could not see that stallion as he left the room in a disgruntled rage, but as the door closed, he spoke.
I will never forget how that professor responded to that unicorn’s departure.
“Students, I will not stop you from leaving this class,” he said, the closing door punctuating his sentence. “If you cannot handle being placed on an equal plane with your common equestrians, I recommend that you leave. This is a class, not a dining hall. You will all work together, or you will all fail separately.”
Another unicorn rose from his seat, the entire class turned to watch him. Immediately I began to notice things about who he was, and about what he represented. He wore a pair of glasses that were perched on his snout. He had that same air about him that all of the other unicorns seemed to have, that pride that was natural to their being. The class fell silent, the teacher allowing the weight of the attention to fall directly on this outlier. I began to form an opinion on him as he began to place his items in his bag and, as nonchalantly as he could, walk to the door.
Then, without warning, something in him changed. It was subtle, and I’m not sure exactly sure if the others noticed, but I know I did. His head dropped, for some unspoken reason his soul could not let himself leave the classroom, and something in him changed that day. He turned back to the class, his chin now pointing slightly lower than it had before, and he strode back to the chair he had taken.
The professor broke the silence. “Making such a decision to stay is never easy. When the world lies to you through your life, especially when it tells you that you are superior, it can be difficult to realize that you are on an equal plane.” He turned to the unicorn that had nearly left the class. “I commend you on your bravery. Not many come to the realization that you have just had. I want you all to learn from his example, for this stallion truly understands his place.”
Then I realized there were a few that went against the grain.
A strange feeling stirred in me as I left that class. I was stepping back into a world of subtle racism and cruel reality, but stranger still was the feeling of no more classes. I now had a decision to make. I could either go back to my dorm, or go attempt to socialize at the student center.
As I wandered through the campus, I began to realize how beautiful the day was. It was still summer, and the birds were happily chirping away in their nests above the trees. The world around me began to come into focus as the blue sky shone with such vibrancy against the vivid green of the perfectly trimmed grass. The trees and shrubs stood in proper organized rows around the campus, forcing a utilitarian control on the natural beauty they held. They all seemed identical, yet somehow each was still unique.
Most of the ponies on campus were enjoying the pleasant weather, each choosing to meander through the courtyards rather than hide away in their dorms. That was for the winter months that would soon be upon them, and they were making use of the precious few moments of warmth by communing outside. Unlike the rest, was alone in the crowds. Most had their fair share of friends and colleagues around them, but I had nothing. I had neglected even entertaining the thought that a friend would be a worthwhile investment. I looked on in envy as I watched them enjoying their time together.
Eventually I will make a group of friends, I thought as I turned my attention to the massive student center in the middle of campus. The building itself stood apart from the rest, its form more abstract than the marble buildings that surrounded it. It was the main gathering point for all of the ponies who wished to join their fellow classmates to discuss their courses and study together. That was the intent, anyway. Instead, the center was mainly used as a place for relaxation from the exhausting classes that they attended. It was a place that represented a community inside the school, the place where life was breathed into the student body and where many found themselves spending most of their time.
Maybe some social interaction would do me well, I thought as I confidently trotted toward the center. I believed that somehow I would be able to converse so naturally with others, and that I would be a likeable pony. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
As I stepped into the center, I realized that I knew no one. There was not a single pony in sight that I had seen earlier in my day, and I was unable to find anypony that was as alone as I. For several awkward minutes, I strolled around the center, trying to find some pony who I deemed worthy to talk to. Again, despite all of the situations that had proved my pride was worthless, I was ready to begin building it up once more. I saw a few ponies, a few which were disconnected from the rest, but I avoided them. For some reason I was completely fine with selecting my friends based on mere appearance.
I didn’t want to be ‘that stallion,’ the one who socialized the others who seemed to bathe in mud rather than a bathroom. I wanted to be part of that ‘in crowd’ the crowd that I had come to hate in my early life. Somehow, they seemed to be above the rest, and I felt that I deserved a place in their ranks.
I watched from the sidelines I had been so accustomed to only to find that my place was still here. Despite my desire, I felt an urge to keep myself away from them. I have no idea why I did this, but the thoughts that swirled around my head were so confused and so terrified that I could not bring myself to simply walk up and join them in their discussion. I believed that I could be above them, and that feeling brought me to a place where I felt excluded. I continued to watch from the sidelines, to live my life alone and above.
As I watched the crowd, much like I had before my first class, I realized that I was frighteningly alone. I wanted to be part of the group that I could never bring myself to talk to, while I strived to be above those who wished to talk to me. I was so high up in the clouds, that I lost sight of my true social standing, the one place I could fit it. I fought it with every portion of my soul, trying to be the pony that nopony wishes to be.
Much to my regret, I ended up leaving the student center only minutes after I had entered. I felt as though I was unable to make a connection into the groups I wanted, and I didn’t realize I was making the others feel the same. As I stepped back out into the warm afternoon air, I realized how deceptive it truly was. Nature seemed inviting, ready to accept me with open arms into its warm embrace, but it was the only thing that was willing to accept me for who I was. I had decided, in my own arrogance, to act as though my life were completely unattainable. It worked for the celebrities, and I figured it would work for myself as well. I was wrong.
I decided to make my way back to the dorm. Instead of humbling myself, I let myself be an outcast. As I meandered through the warmth of the afternoon, I felt powerfully alone. This wasn’t the feeling that had been creeping up on me through the day, it was much more powerful than that. I had let that pride inside of me to turn me into the shell of the pony I should have been.
I had had several chances during that day to make friends, to influence the other ponies to like me, but instead I decided to hate. The realization of this fact began to dawn on me as I stepped into my dorm. I was going to live with the ponies that were loitering around the lobby, but I didn’t know a single one. I took no notice to them, despite my soul now begging my pride to give in. I wanted so desperately to be known, to be cared about in this new and frightening world, but all I did was ignore them.
Instead, I walked to my room and closed the door. It would remain that way until the morning of the next day when classes would begin once again. I hated myself for it, for leaving that last best opportunity to join that family of stallions. I ignored those around me, instead replacing them with the thought of the peers I had grown up with and surpassed. I was quickly becoming disgusted with myself, but I soon realized that I couldn’t bear to socialize with them. I thought I had done too much damage, and I was now facing the consequences of my actions. I was alone, and I deserved it.
I started my homework, the only thing I knew to do amid the swirling doubts that filled my mind. For hours I poured myself into my books, trying against all odds to avoid facing my own mind with no distractions. I knew I was too far gone, I had made too many errors to reconcile, but I avoided it nonetheless. I wanted that drug of pride for the few remaining moments that I could. For as I did my work, as I poured every last bit of myself into my studies, I began to attempt to rebuild that castle. I had no reason to believe that I could be redeemed, and I knew it. All I could manage was occupying my time with something that I knew would only delay the inevitable.
As I the night pressed on, I was confronted with the thoughts that I so desperately did not want to acknowledge. What is wrong with you? Why are you so hateful? What will you gain from this endless push for superiority? These thoughts swirled amidst the chaotic happenings outside of my door. I heard laughter, I heard the one chance that I had to be accepted being played out in the hallway just behind that wooden barrier. All of my soul, wanted so desperately to be included, but that tiny castle still held me back from my one true desire. All I could do was drown myself in the negligible work that I had been assigned. I was miserable.
Soon, the sun set on the university, and plunged the world into darkness. I pressed on through the night, studying the subjects I had looked at through the day. I poured through them, trying to understand everything I could, but all I managed to do was fill my mind with jargon that I had yet to comprehend. As I read and reread pages, I began to realize what I was doing to myself. I was only waiting, spending the last few moments of wakefulness that I had in an attempt to keep my mind from thinking of my isolation. I could not bear it, but it crept ever closer to my mind.
Several hours after the sun had plunged beneath the horizon, I finally realized that I could stave it off no longer. Instead of building my own pride, or ignoring the thoughts that pushed their way into my mind, I was finally forced to confront my biggest and deepest fear; that I was not worthy, and I knew it. I had been waiting for this moment for hours now, but when it finally struck me, it hit hard.
In that moment, as I recounted the events that had transpired during the day, I began to realize what I was doing all along. I had loved that first professor with his pompous attitude and important nature because I wanted to be like him. I realized I disliked the professor that had been so kind to me after I had been so hateful because I wanted nothing to do with compassion. I understood why that unicorn, who called me out on my own self importance, had cut so deeply into my being. It was because he had, in one hasty comment, completely destroyed that very castle that I had been building for years. I generated that self importance because I could not find it anywhere else. I forced myself into this mindset that I was important because I could not get the validation anywhere else.
I let my head drop to the desk, the whole of my body desiring that the contact would knock the consciousness from my mind. Tears began to stream from my eyes as I realized the monster I had become. I had, within only a minute, discovered so much about my flaws, that I was beginning to hate myself.
It would take me several years before I could truly say that I had been absolved from the pain that I had felt on that night. I ended up staying awake, my mind torturing me by forcing those thoughts of self hatred into itself. It was the second time I would truly hate somepony for who they were. I began to realize I did not deserve the things I had rejected. My mind began to ride trains of fallacious logic to their final outcome. I resolved, then and there, to never forgive myself for what I had done.
I don’t remember much after that. All I know is that I woke up feeling no better than I had when I had fallen asleep. I tossed my coat over my body, that barrier that would become my first layer of defense against the world as I retreated into my own mind. I distinctly remember the feeling I had as I paused at the door for only a moment. It was a feeling that I kept locked away in my heart, for it would become the definition of who I was.
I felt as though I did not belong.