I keep telling myself the same thing. Day after day, I repeat it like a mantra . When you grow up, all of these problems will go away. I keep convincing myself that all the troubles in our relationship will vanish into nothing once you mature.
Did you think me naive? Did you think I did not notice the love in your eyes? The adoration you showered upon the object of your affection? No, I can see it all too well: that unrequited love that sustains you. Perhaps you thought that I never noticed those eyes of yours. Do you truly think me so oblivious? How they shine when they behold that form you have dreamed of for countless nights.
Ponyville Days has just ended, and we walk through the crowds in the aftermath of the disaster that almost ruined this day. We worked through it, together, and found some truths about ourselves along the way. Still, I was reminded of that one simple truth.
All this could have been avoided if you were grown up. For if you were grown, then the choice would have been easy. Trenderhoof would not have been spared a second thought, if you were only grown.
I confided this secret to one other, and she asked me why I would wait. Why wait for something that might never come to fruition? I said then, as I do now, that good things are worth waiting for. Like any good gem, it takes time and pressure for them to truly shine. That is what you are, my precious jewel. I cannot act until you have grown, because that would not be right.
How many times must this same event play out before we can truly be together? How many stallions with their smiles and charms must walk into our lives before you are grown? I wonder, as we walk through the dwindling festival, that maybe it isn't worth waiting for. The smile you give me shatters that thought. The pure joy at what we had accomplished, that every pony had enjoyed, sustains me. I just have to wonder how many times your heart can be struck by these kinds of events, seeing your perception of love tested so, before it shatters. Even the strongest diamond can be broken by one well-placed strike.
We sit atop a hill, looking over the town as the sun sets. We are both exhausted from all the work it took to make today happen. Our friends have already retreated to their own homes, leaving just the fashionista and a dragon atop the grassy hill. We recount the events of the last few days and we laugh. It is good to be able to laugh at yourself, I find. Through it all, through all the smiles and laughter, I am bitter. All this trouble, all this pain, could have been avoided if only you were mature.
I realize, as we sit here, that I would not love you as much as I do if you were any different. In time you will change, but you will change on your own will, not because of mine. Perhaps I will be there in your future, perhaps not. All I know is that I greatly desire you to look upon me as an equal. I have seen many a time where one places the other on a pedestal or at their feet. I wish to look you in the eyes and profess my love for you, something that you surely would know if only you were mature.
Love is a tricky thing. What we think we want is never what we expected it to be. In the same line, what we have is never quite what we think it is. I remember the first day we met, how odd that was. I had no idea how to react to you, it was a foreign experience to me. Still, I learned quickly how to maintain the 'status quo'. We have been together since that moment, drawn together by the fates of our friends. I thank Celestia that such happened, that I would be so privileged to know someone like you.
You turn to me, as we sit on the hill, and thank me for all that transpired today. I assure you that it was no trouble. Helping each other is what friends are for. We sit, mostly in silence, as the moon starts to take over the sky. You stand and say that it has gotten late. I agree and stand with you, walking you home as is only proper.
We arrive at the house, and I look over its familiar frame. I've been here so much lately, even more so than my own home. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if this were my home, but I dismiss that thought. It won't work, not yet. You are still too immature, you need to grow. I say good night and head on my way home.
I know what will happen tonight. You will walk into your house, dismantle that obsessive shrine you cried over, double check the dress that you are trying desperately to repair and forget the whole event ever happened. I know this, but I don't begrudge you for it. You think I don't understand love, you told me as much. The truth is that I do, I understand far more than you think. You think you love ponies, but you don't. You love love: this fairy tale romance that life just doesn't have. Twice now, I've seen you burned by it, and I wonder how many times I must help you mend the pieces of your shattered heart. But that is what love is, after all. Loving somepony for who they are, not for who you want them to be.
I wonder to myself. Would Trenderhoof's attractions have mattered at all to you if he was not fascinated with Applejack? No, you didn't care what he wanted to see, as long as he saw it in you. I know your eyes don't see me yet, but I have faith that one day they will.
As I open the door to the library, I repeat my mantra again. I must endure until you grow up. When you have matured, then we can be together.
However long it takes. When you are ready to look for love where it has been instead of where you think it should be, I'll be here, waiting for that day.