> Frag/ment/ed > by Dashie04 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > “Hey Bunny, how are you?” > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- I read my pen pal’s simple letter. I didn’t know what she expected of me. Hey Bunny, how are you? It’s all just a school program. It’s not like there was a bond there… Yet I had several. ”” is a fairly good student— I’m not the little pegasus she thinks she knows. We’re just pen pals. I’m not cute… at least I never felt that way. I just pretended to… —he knows how to get work done. That’s all it was. It’s all a mask. I’m just trying to please everypony else… was there really anything left of me? > “Hey, Bunny, wanna be friends?” > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- They continued sending me mail. What once had been a casual ‘hi’ was becoming something greater. It always did. He’s completely changed. Gets along with students well— What was I going to do, not say yes? —But it’s taken a hit on his academics— It’s always like this. I say hi and they find me cute, easy to get along with, friend material. It’d happened several times. Every time… I’m a little different. A mask. But apparently the mask was worth talking to. —He seems a little unfocused. ”Hey, Bunny, you’re my favorite pen pal I’ve met like this… > “Hey, Bunny, I like your outfit…” > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- I saw them. In the catalogs. Skirts Dresses Fishnets Socks Tons of cute outfits for mares of all sizes… maybe it’d fit stallions, too… if I tried hard enough. Maybe I’d look cute in them? I loved the stallions that did. Impulsively, I bought some. They arrived. A few pictures later, I didn’t feel any cuter. Maybe I needed more. click, click, cliclicliclicli— … It wasn’t cute. I want to feel cute. I take a look at the outgoing mailbox, my “friends” had never let me down, had they? Maybe they… could say something. Hey Bunny, I love your outfit… > “Hey, Bunny, I’ve been wanting to tell you something…” > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dear, Bunny; I don’t really know how to say this, but, I love you. I know we practically end every letter with it. It’s just not really a platonic thing anymore. I do genuinely love you. You’re cute. Whatever you say won’t make me think any less of you. Would you like to me my “marefriend”? Love; Rose And Violet. And Morning Dew. And Cold Snap. It seems to reach this frequently. Can you be my partner. They think I’m cute. I didn’t see it. I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted to. Thankfully, I’m good at pretend. > “Hey, Bunny, it’s not that bad…” > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cider Energy drinks They’re to my left and my right. I drink another sip of my separated cocktail. One And The other The beautiful letter lay on my table. Her usual messy handwriting. “…Bunny are you okay?” It warbles in my blurry eyesight. It lies on the discarded clothes and other failed attempts to feel “cute”. I wasn’t. But I look at another part of the letter. “I say this with love, you’re my favorite mare.” It always felt so freeing to be called a mare. They already thought I was one. I wasn’t one. But, I wasn’t me either. > “Hey, Bunny, you’re my favorite mare…” > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- They always called me a mare. Flirtatious or affirming. I’ve seen both sent. ”Bunny, you’re the cutest mare I know <3.” ”You’re a mare and don’t let anypony convince you otherwise.” Every time it was said, I felt cute again. Like I wasn’t pretending. I’ve read over them multiple times. Something to add to my fuel of caffeine and alcohol. Feeling cute… It’s what I wanted… right? But it was impossible. ”…What’s the flavor today?” …Could I say mare? It felt right… but, what if that was pretend too? I put on my clothes, attempting to distract my mind. > “…Bunny?” > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mare. Every time I think about it. Mare. It gets louder. Mare. Cracks in the formation. Mare. Practically screaming. Mare. But how?! It was all pretend. Everything. Everything I’d done. Acts in school, partners, life, trying to get by while not understanding a thing. Broken. Fired. Destroyed. A machine on the brink of collapse. A glitchy mess. No better than the music I hear, runaway, wanderer. Please help me free me can I be cute? The pretender pretending that I’m doing well. I don’t deserve to be treated well, it’s an act it’s all an act. All. Everything. I— MARE. > Frag/Ment/Ed > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was teasing, pulling me along for the ride. I wanted, desired, needed something, or somepony to pull down this mask. Mean more to me than playing pretend. A friend, To give me more than my falsified experiences. I wanted to feel cute. But when acting cute is such an act that act might become reality but then what is mine. If you act for so long you just become the mask… is it an act? Or does that mean you’re just confused. Am I just confused? I’ve heard it before, and soon I’d hear it again and again and again. Forever repeating never ceasing. That was who I was. Bunny wasn’t me she, he, they(?) were a character I designed. A happy pen pal for others to interact with. To befriend, to love, to care for, to treat better than they deserved. What could you deserve as a simple act? Do you think Celestia wanted to rule, or did she fall into it? When did the act stop. When did she begin. Did she ever begin? Or was she like me, never breaking down the mask? I want to be cute. Am I a mare because I feel cute as one? I broke down too long ago to think about this. But now I have to. Thinking, who I’m meant to be? Who I feel like? Or am I Another lost soul caught between Themselves and the pony they? She? He? Wants to be. Stuck. I have to think, be bold, be somepony better be some pony new, be somepony who’s bold and unique. Not somepony afraid of who they might become. Am I a mare? Am I? Am I cute? I… don’t Know. Who. Am. I? Thoughts spiral out of control. I am Simply Frag/ Ment/ Ed.