Reflections
Worst part of the day.
Morning again.
Awake again.
I was having the most beautiful dream. I was in the air. The other kids were there, too, but it was me. That was the important part. I was with them. In the dream, I remembered that usually I can't fly with everybody else. You know how dream logic works.
I'm not a pegasus, but I could fly. I could fly, I really could! I was soaring and looping and zipping around and I was free. I was free! I threw it all off. All the pain, all the doubt! Left it all behind! I was FREE diary, FREE!! I was flying over the farms, the school house, the town...I even got high enough to see Canterlot! It was amazing!! I was so absolutely, and utterly happy.
Then I woke up.
The alarm was a death sentence to another day of suffering, and I was the star attraction in a carnival of freaks. I was sick today. Severe lack of school spirit in addition to a bad case of I-could-care-less. Not that Miss Cheerilee would buy it. I crawl out of bed and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room.
The sad eyes of a broken colt glaring the devil's glare into a mirror that could never make him beautiful. Never be a princess. Never be queen of the crowd. A woeful wicked device that spit lies every time he passed by. Chalk board bangs and an pale orange completion. The utmost cusp of school-aged geekery. I wanted to scream that it was wrong. That I was beautiful, and I COULD be a princess one day! I was sweet and desirable and I was everything it was showing me I wasn't. And at the same time, it wasn't showing off anything that I was. Big full length sucker, too. From stand to top, it stood gleaming in the corner of my room, screaming its lies every single day. Mom wanted me to be a well dressed young stallion, and she figured this thing would help jump-start that process.
God did I hate it.
Not only did it seem to take great amusement in reminding me, on a day to day basis, that I was born one letter too late, but it seemed to catch every single light in the room, drawing my attention to it, no matter where I turned. I was its prisoner. A slave to its whims. It demanded I peer into it, every single day. Somewhere, somehow, no matter what, I'd end up looking into one of its siblings. I'd tease my mane back and forth, make pouty faces, blow kisses. But no matter what I did, I was still hopelessly wrong.
I growled at myself. I tried to tell myself it was dumb to get worked up at looking at my reflection. I barked at myself; the ugly dog in the mirror. I hissed and bit and snapped and snarled at that dog. That me that wasn't me. That horrible thing was something else I was trapped inside of. The shell of a pony. Like my Cutie Mark.
Sometimes, I wish I could talk about it. Spit it all out. Explain everything to everyone with just the right words in just the right way. I wished it would be that easy. But whenever I try to talk about it, all that comes out is a black, rotting ball of gunk. Like, try and imagine the biggest knot of string that you can. Now cover that with tar on a hot day. Now try to pull it apart. The words are all there, but they're tied up and gunked up and stupid. I can't say them like that. I don't know how to say them like that. And that frustrates me so much I just want to scream. But I when I scream until I'm hoarse it doesn't help. My screams echo into nothing. Not that there's any pony to listen, anyway.
Somedays I wondered if there was a spell that could help me. Some ancient secret words that I could recite. Maybe, if I really really studied hard, and did my best, maybe I could learn that spell one day. If it even existed. I've never been good at magic, but I liked the idea. My horn gave a soft yellow spark. I wondered if there might be other unicorns, like me, who have felt this way before. Maybe they were all working on a spell like that to help them. I liked an idea of a spell like that. I would spend hours planning out exactly how my hair looked. What kind of make up I might wear. Who would ask me to the winter sock-hop? Or being able to go out shopping and not worry about weird looks while I stare at the Carousel Boutique... I liked the way that felt. It was a bright spot on most of my days.
I think I'm getting sick. Not like, Sick-sick, but like, sad-sick. Like this feeling in my tummy that won't go away and I just don't know what to do about it. Like sometimes the biggest problem I have is having all the words, but not having the right way to use them. I just wish there was somebody that could understand me. The closest pony I have to talk to is Snips. And...he's not...exactly great conversation material. Hes my best friend yeah, but ...He'd never understand. I don't think anyone understands. And that upsets me, and that frustrates me, it just feels like I'm trapped in this place that I can't break free from and sometimes it all just comes crashing down. Collapsing on itself like a house of cards. And every time it collapses it gets harder and harder to build it again. So everyday I'm just left with a mess.
I call that time "Being awake."
I gazed sadly into the mirror, ignoring the shouts from downstairs. Mother said I'd be late for school if I didn't hurry. I would be so lucky. For a moment, I caught sight of my cutie mark. Silly thing. Nothing pretty about a snail, but if only it could be. I smiled gently, staring at that shell for a long few moments. All in all, it really wasn't a bad little cutie mark. It was cute, if I dare said so myself. I wished it was different though, maybe something more...pink? Sparkles would be cute. Sparkles all over the shell. I pondered that for a few moments.
"Glitter Shell. " I said, letting the word balance on my tongue before I repeated it again. Glitter Shell. That was a very pretty name. I liked it! I liked it a lot- but I didn't have time to dwell. Mom was yelling again, and I didn't have the time to spend staring into mirrors. Still...
I force myself to flash the mirror a dazzling smile. The same big fake one I used everyday at school. If you smile big enough and wide enough, ponies don't ask what's wrong. And if they don't ask, I don't have to lie. So I just smile like this, and pretend that everything is okay. And that it's gonna be okay. Because sometimes, lying to yourself is the only weapon you have, and I hate being defenseless.
I stared into the mirror. One day, I'll be beautiful. I smiled again and headed down stairs for breakfast.
Also LikedSimilarAuthor
- DerpyStarlet · 9.3k words · 97 8 · 3k views
- SoundoftheWaves · 1.2k words · 90 6 · 1.9k views
- DerpyStarlet · 31k words · 101 11 · 3k views
- naikichangeling · 3.8k words · 103 12 · 3k views
- BurningBright · 4.7k words · 14 1 · 729 views
- Fillyfoolish · 4.4k words · 40 4 · 1.7k views
- DerpyStarlet · 5.8k words · 31 2 · 1k views
Stats
Page generated in 0.15 seconds
Total duration
886 users online
569,992 hits today, 2,280,440 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Deep.
This hit me on a personal level. Thank you so much. I love seeing other takes on a trans Snails, or Glitter Shell. Sometimes better takes. Than my own, that is.
I admit I don't have this problem, but I don't shrug off those that do. It's interesting to see this perspective.
I'd help you with editing, but I'm already doing one more project than I should be right now. Sorry.
I get crazy depressed every time I read a Glitter Shell story, they are always so painful.
Nice story… well, I should say… a well done story. There isn't really anything nice about suffering through gender dysmorphia.
I don't like glittershell. :/
6380138 She does!
A wonderfully descriptive story. It hits so close to home too, wow.
This is a great little introspective story on the issue of being transgendered. However, I had a hard time picture Snails thinking this. Not because of the trans thing, but it just all seems too eloquent for her. It's unintentionally funny when you try to picture all of this being said in Snail's voice from the show.
6381240 There is a rather large portion of the fandom that likes the idea of Snails being 'Glitter Shell.' I don't know why, but I figured if I were gonna write a story like this, I should use a character that is represented as such by the fandom.
6382349
Probably because of the tumblr ask blog that created it, though I keep giggling seeing that the character meme has managed to outpace the actual blog from time to time. Speaking of, do you mind if I post a link to your story on said blog? Or not? Or would you like me to wait till you got that editor you're looking for?
In regards to the story, I like it! It's more than a little heavy handed, granted. But well written!
6382785 Editor first, then blog! :D
6382802
coolio, shoot me a message whenever
I never though I'd read a thought provoking and emotional story about Snails
bravo author, bravo
I would like to to see more of this, Glitter Shell, is a cute name and Snails should become Glitter Shell. She knows she was born wrong, and should go out and become the real her.
Sweet Celestia this hurt to read.
Oh goodness I remember those days. Mirrors are evil, evil things. I love the voice that you have for Glitter in this, and, yeah, good job. Dysphoria sucks.
Ha, I wrote a song a while ago that is almost exactly this story.
Great minds think alike right? My only wish is for this to not be a one-shot, but that's just me being greedy.
In any case, good job ^_^
I haven't read on here in...too long. I've almost forgotten the beauty made by this fandom. The feels ran deep today.
Yeah, that's... that's about how it goes. Complete with the loving, supportive family that want to help you be the best $assignedgender that you can be.
Then puberty hits and things start to get really ugly.
6552239 Try begging a parent in the presence of a supportive therapist to look into pills that could prevent that damage before it happens, and they refuse to. That's fun. Or similar to a story or two over from the same author, having a parent whip themselves up into a frenzy about how the therapist is full of shit and their kid has no idea what they're talking about. That's fun also.
Loving and supportive my ass.
6393547
Amusingly the R63 version of Snips and Snails are named Sugar and Spice. I'm actually torn between surprised and amused that she picked something else.
6553970
Hey now, I didn't mean loving and supportive of you I meant loving and supportive of who they imagine you to be.
Awesome ;-;
What do you mean by
?
6601044 X chromosomes and Y chromosomes. The Y chromosome dictates a growth in testis, and Glittershell ls lamenting she was born a 'letter' too late
6601051
Ah, I was racking my brain for like an hour trying to figure it out. I tried every word for boy and girl to figure it out with no success. But what does timing have to do with gender? And there is a missing o in that sentence of the story.
6601265 It is an metaphor, darling.
6601281
And now I feel more out of loop then an unstrung shoelace. Just need to remember things are not as literal as I want them to be.
6601727 Snails is upset He ended up as a boy.
X Chromosomes= Girls
Y Chromosomes= Boys
He was born a letter too late, you see? He juuuust missed being X and instead, he was born Y. Ergo, he's distraught at having been born "One letter to late"
6608836
This is extremely pleasing. Sorry for being so difficult.
6609606 <3<3<3
6609728
as a person who's been right where snails is now that hit me like a freight train, excellent work.
I disagree that this is too 'eloquent' for Snails/GS, especially since there's a whole section talking about the difficulty in speaking the words that are inside. This is a beautiful piece, and the chunky, broken-up sentences really reflect what dysphoria is like. You've earned a fave, my friend.
I relate all too well to this
6553974 I'd never heard that. But then I don't usually look for r63 Snails, Glittershell (i.e. transgender Snails) is my fav non-canon personality.
It makes a big difference to my Glittershell that she has others she can trust with her secret.
I did the math, and there are probably a few other Ponies even in a town as small as Ponyville (population about 2000 but rapidly growing) who are transgendered in some way, shape or form. Probably not the exact same way Snails/Glittershell is, though, and probably not around her age.
My Glittershell doesn't know who they are. But she has other friends she trusts -- most notably Sweetie Belle and Rarity.
That helps a lot.
6406838
Who's the dark Pegasus?
6380138
Then why would you want to read a story about her? It's not as if you were dragged to this tale at crossbow-point, now is it?
7093767
Why the fuck are you responding to a months old comment?
7094341
In ancient Mesopotamia, it became useful for the priests and merchants to keep accounts of goods, so they developed first a symbology of little clay tokens and then marks on the clay tokens which became a writing system. This means that one's thoughts can survive even longer than "months" -- we've read Mesopotamian records some five millennia old! Isn't that wonderful?
7094525 Darling, if you could maybe keep your comments on the story above, I'd be most appreciative.
7094530 You know it's not gonna happen right ? The comment section is the most dangerous of place : if you lost yourself there, there is no escape. Anyway, Glittershell is very strong : she deal with the hardest of life. By the way, your story is really good : have a like
I hope that after all these years things have gotten even if a bit better.
Even though its 2020 and shit's going down everywhere...but still life goes on.