A Crusader's Monologue

Another day, another failed Cutie Mark Crusade. Each time we go out into the world to prove our worth to it, we leave with bare flanks. And each time we fail, we grow closer. I can't remember what sort of things I did before I met you two. The only reason I get up anymore is so I can see you two again. "What might this day bring?" I would ask myself as I get out of bed. Later, we gather in our clubhouse and devise a plan to earn our cutie marks. I step through that small wooden door with the expectation of failure, and the promise of friendship.

Contrary to your words, her words, and my words, the three of us know exactly what we need to do to prove our uniqueness and our talent to the world. However, none mention it. For we all childishly fear the loss of the friendship that us three simply cannot live without. We all feel ashamed of ourselves for thinking this way about each other, but deep down we are scared; scared that the thoughts in my mind are not the same as the thoughts in hers; scared that our friendship was built not on shared and cherished experiences, but mutual benefit.

Nonetheless, we each continue walking through that small wooden door with our hopes in our smiles and dreams in our plans. We push on, together, towards our common goal. Sure the other students in school call us blank-flanks, and sure we don't have the social status and self-esteem that comes with having a cutie mark, but those concerns are cast out of our consciousness when we see each other again. Who knows, maybe we are friends, bound in blood? Maybe all of the pain I've gone through to keep you two in my life will be worth it when we get our cutie marks? Those concerns are cast out along with the stigma we've received.

Who could focus on worries like those when you have friends like mine? Thank you, you two, for the best friends I've ever had, and could ever ask for.