Society is a deceiving rumor-spreading machine. We are stereotyped based on our homes, backgrounds, and jobs. And that seems to be ok. It's the norm. And if you happen to have the perfect combination of these three things, you might as well be royalty. Anything below that is looked upon as if they were no more than rotten garbage. And many ponies just accept what they are born into and mold themselves to fit the stereotype. If you are willing to listen, every pony who has ever lived anywhere other than the higher districts of Canterlot tells of how much better life would have been had they had only lived among the riches and glory of the upper class. They tell of how they wanted nothing more than to have middle class lives in the very least. These ponies think that by living in a better house that everything would have been perfect for them and their families. They will speak to you of how awful their lives were. And I'll agree, they were pretty awful lives to be living. No pony deserves to be treated that way, to be that scared all of your life. But not everything in this life is made up of diamonds and gold just because of where you live or how wealthy you are. Money can't buy happiness, it can't buy friends, it can't buy fairness. Money can buy you out of the lower class. But it can never buy you respect. My name is Silver Dawn. And this is the story of how my "perfect" life almost killed me.
My story begins in a pretty little hospital room. I came into this world with shimmering amethyst eyes and a light heart of innocence. My parents absolutely glowed with pride every time some pony cooed over just how perfect and beautiful of a little filly I was. My silver coat shimmered and my pink mane flowed like water. I was the gem of the neighborhood. All my neighbors knew my name from the moment I was born. I grew up a total momma's pony. This due to the fact that my mother didn't work after I was born. But she never truly needed to. She had her degree. But my father had one of the best paying jobs a pony could ask for. He was a messenger for the Royal Court. He was often away traveling during the day, but he was back in time to put me to bed most nights. I grew up in a very happy home. My parents never fought and they loved me very much. However, by the time I turned four I had two sisters, Wild Clover and Cherry Blossom. I hated the sudden lack of attention the siblings brought, but loved having someone to play with. Before my sisters came along I was the only filly on the block. Naturally, Cherry Blossom, the youngest, got the most attention as a filly. Mom spent the most time with her doing whatever she wanted to. I had already gotten old enough to care for myself. This lack of attention from my mom turned out to be both good and bad. I grew much closer to Wild Clover, but the older we got the less she wanted to be around me, which hurt rather badly. But I adjusted and learned to entertain myself.
Anyway, as I said before, my family was extremely rich. We basically bled money. We were at the very top of the economic ladder. So growing up, I heard nothing but smack talk about the quote on quote "slums". Being the "perfect filly" I was never directly told about it by the adults. They were too afraid of corrupting me. But I overheard plenty of the adults gossip about it and I heard stories being told on the streets as I passed by. Stories about what the Royal Court had told them when they had gone once again to complain about the beggars who were unfortunate enough to live in the Slums. Stories of crime and murder and trials. But I couldn't fully wrap my head around what could possibly be so bad about living a different lifestyle. I knew that the criminals were bad, but not everyone in such a large area could possibly be a criminal. But I knew better than to question the views of my parents. After all, they had made it in life. My family hated every single aspect of the place. It seemed that all of Canterlot did. Even the thought of it made them cringe. So naturally, all three of us fillies were sent off to school with the other rich little fillies and foals to make sure we got good jobs and didn't end up filthy beggars. I was never allowed anywhere close to the center district, but I knew plenty about it. But somehow I always found myself wondering why Celestia would allow such terrible things to happen in our town.
The fillies at school told me stories. They told me about how giant rats swarmed the streets every night. They spoke of how the only ponies that lived there were dirty thieves and murderers. I often heard them talking about the high crime rates and how dirty and rotten all the buildings there were. Thinking about living that way hurt me deep down inside. I never was able to understand why I felt physical pain for ponies I didn't know. But at school, it became a joke. We would threaten to send each other to the Slums if we didn't do what we were dared to do. We would laugh and joke about the center district all the time. We would find cardboard boxes and pretend to beg for food in them while the other kids pretended to beat us with stick and throw stones. I had no reason to doubt their stories and gossip. I had grown up thinking that it was ok to do these things. That it was alright to mock other ponies because of their lifestyle. I trusted the ponies around me because from the time I started my schooling, I had managed to keep the same group of friends. We were the closest group of fillies you would ever meet. We loved each other. They were my second family and I was theirs. We did everything together as a group. Because we did everything together we trusted each other completely with everything. Including our deepest, darkest secrets. Well at least... That's what I thought....