Maybe I function best when I'm broken, Pinkie writes, this way I'm more understanding and patient. Pinkie almost lost the pony most important to her, and it broke Pinkie deeply. Memories of Rainbow Dash telling her she doesn't understand her at all tormented her mind once more. Rainbow and Pinkie had decided to have a break for a while. Pinkie felt the ache in her heart begin to sing, and she just didn't know what to do. But then again, it wouldn't be the first time.

Pinkie has more time for her other friends. She's time to go out with them and play but somehow it doesn't feel right. It was a very familiar feeling as it's the feeling Pinkie lived with before Rainbow came along. It was a very productive feeling, it was pretentious (but of course she'd never show that it was), it was depressing, and it was the middle ground between being in one piece and absolutely falling apart.

But Pinkie knew she wasn't the only one about to fall apart. As she got up from the table where she was writing, she peered out the window and paid attention to the sounds from the outside. It wasn't quiet, but it was peaceful. People went by talking and children played amongst themselves. But no one she knew was in sight and she could only wonder what was of her best pony friends. How is Fluttershy doing? Pinkie pondered to herself. With all this silence and no one to talk or listen to, be it a good or bad thing, she had time to think to herself – something she used to do so very often until she met Rainbow and didn't have to do it to keep sane anymore.

Rainbow Dash.

Pinkie had so many questions in her head. How could she not understand the one she has spent so much time with? How possibly could she have ruined everything so quickly? How did she miss every hint and every line, how did she mess the replies up, and how in the world did she forget how to think? She hurts people and annoys people. She tells people things they've already heard and know. She hurt Rainbow.

"I guess I've never really understood much about myself and how I function", Pinkie whispered. She had to dissect herself to know herself. She had to write about herself to look at herself from another person's point of view to understand how she thought. And she was thinking, that maybe her decrease in the amount of time she thinks – or thought – affected her ability to reason.

Maybe Pinkie really functions best only when she's broken.

Broken bridges can't be sewn
And lost hearts can't be owned
The nature of who I was
Strikes me as the very first
Person who could easily see
Everything that all could be
And the person she wanted to become
Backfired, and then some
To retrace the steps of a forgotten path
Is it too little to call it tough?
But I've changed me and I'll do it again
Aching to spare me from more pain
The tragedy that I never saw
How much of who I was before
But that's it – I wasn't much
Brittle as a vase but strong to the touch
Saw the world through millions of eyes
And never – like me – resorted to lies
Snippets from what I remember
Shine like a dimly lit ember
But it is a fire and it can be spread
Otherwise I'll be nothing but regret.