Coming To Terms

by DerpyStarlet

Matching

Not a normal colt.

That's how I would describe myself, But I'd never say it. Because it's one of my closely guarded secrets, not because I'm bad with words. Well, maybe it has a little to do with that.

Though, I'm not bad with words, not really, I'm bad with speaking. Numbers catch me and I'm slow, But the one thing I can do is read. And write, But my hoofwriting is so terrible only I can read it. It doesn't matter though, no one would think to read it even if they could. Miss Cheerilee has tried helping me, she still kinda is, but she's given up a little. Not that it matters, they're just words. But words can carry so much meaning.

Not a normal colt.

It's an incomplete sentence, a fragment. In a book we were reading in class, "Bleat House", fragments were used to address the incomplete nature of the cases at Cantery Court. Charlie 'Horse' Dickens uses this on purpose, and I do too. It could represent the incompleteness I feel, the reason I'm not a normal colt.

Not a normal colt.

This is essentially my self summary. If I had an opportunity to tell the world about the real me, this is it. This is usually difficult to do for some ponies, but I've thought about it a lot. I'm just a pony so devoid of noteworthiness that my attempt to summarize myself as a pony is reduced to the sole fact I'm not the norm. But there's nothing more to say, I'm just not that important.

Not a normal colt.

But what would anyone care about the abnormalcy of a nopony? Why would I ever tell anyone I'm not normal? Much less the thing that makes me abnormal. And the thing is, I wouldn't. That's why no one knows, because I don't matter. My parents don't know, my friends don't, I'm not even entirely sure what it means to be honest. I just know that it's different, and it scares me a little. I'm afraid of being found out, of judgement, of rejection. That's another reason I don't tell anyone, fear.

Not a normal colt.

How many ponies aren't normal? I could be any one of them. But, my different is a different sort of different than just any kind of different. Or, at least, the different I'm worried about is.

Not a normal colt.

Though, looking at the word normal, what even is it? Everyone's unique, somehow. I guess normal is more like an average, an average of certain traits. I'm not exactly sure what that average is... I just know that in one aspect I am most definitely not that.

I'm clumsy, slow, and my cutie mark is misleading. Because of this everyone assumes I'm stupid, but it's not really that. Sure, I don't think some things through completely and I'm not that great at certain things, but I don't consider myself stupid. I know things, it just takes a while to get the answers I need, takes me a while to realize a mistake or a solution. I realized my mistake in bringing an ursa minor into Ponyville, just a little too late.

Not a normal colt.

The real problem is that when I look at myself, I feel like I don’t match what I’m seeing. Like I look inside and see two images, and neither match. I look to one side and it doesn’t match my look, but it feels more right. Then I look at the other and it does match how I look, but it doesn’t feel right at all. I feel like the mirrors shattered, and these two reflections show up in different pieces of glass.

I equate it to having the choice of wearing two different types of colors, one purple, and one orange. The orange matches my skin, but it feels wrong, it feels like a lie. The purple is comfortable, but it doesn’t match me either. I’ll put on the orange, but only for everypony else. But, I like the purple silently. It makes me sad a lot, to think that I’ll never be able to wear the color I like. If I were to look at the colors, purple and orange, In the two reflections, I know what I’d see. I look into the orange reflection and look at my own hoof. The colors match, but it’s almost as if it were shaped wrong, because the hooves don’t fit. I’d look into the other reflection and the colors won’t match, but the hooves fit.

I don’t match. It’s just a fact, I don’t match an I don’t know if I ever will.

My name is Snails and I don’t match. My self summary is composed of a meager four words: Not a normal colt.

Comments

[Divine Path]

Does she have Asperger's as well? Interesting move. I wonder what this surprisingly eloquent mind of hers hides.

Never lose sight of that blackness,
for it shan't consume you now.
You have much to experience,
much to become,
then cast aside your fault-filled life
and be reborn into maidendom this very day.

We shall read on.

[Hexy]

...Woah...

I feel this. I know this. I know what this is like. Put on the orange sock and you hate what you see. Put on the purple and it doesn't quite lay right. You want, you yearn, you need to be one, but no matter how hard you try, you can never cut ties with the other.

I'll continue here. I'm curious as to where this goes.

[SkittleQueen]

Listening to 50 ways to say good bye while reading this v.v I shall read on...

[sne1105]

A phrase, even of 4 words, can have huge meaning. This starting chapter captures this extremely well. Seeing as Snails is so under developed in the show you can do whatever you want with them.

look at me typing big words... ha...