Change Hurts

It hurts. It hurts so much. It shouldn't but it hurts.

It hurts to change, it hurts to be different, it hurts wanting to change who you are, to be who you want to be.

We don´t need change, we never change, we are who we are. But there is no longer we but I. No longer us but me. There is only I now.

I need to change, I want more, I am different.

I need a name, names are important. We don´t need names, our Queens knows who we are but I don't know who I am.

Names are difficult, leave them for later.

First the body, I need a new body. What should I be? A mare? A stallion? An earth pony, a pegasus, a unicorn? We don´t have any need for that, we are what we are. But I'm different, I am a mare. I want to be a mare, I want to be small and cute. The body is easy, hooves, tail, eyes, teeth, all easy.

The color, what is color? We are alike but everypony is different, nopony is identical to the other one. What color, red, blue, pink? Green, I like green. I like grass, a soft kind of green, a darker shade for my mane, the mane, make it long but soft, let it flow with the wind, the wind! I love the wind caressing me, I choose to be a pegasus.

It hurts, must get rid of the horn, they don´t have horns, they will suspect me if I have a horn. The pain, the pain of changing. Not just a simple reflection spell, this a new body, just for me, my body. I ditch the fragile wings with new strong feathered ones. The pain is gone and I am free now.

I need a voice, we don´t have voice, we repeat whatever they said but I have things of my own to said. It hurts, it burns, fire coming out of my mouth as I create words, ideas leaving my head and coming out to the air. I breathe music and brimstone. I have a voice now, my voice.

I´m making my mark, a Cutie Mark, that proves who they are, that a pony is not like the other one, similar but never the same, never like we were, like they were. I remember, I remember one day, waiting for our Queen, for their Queen to return, waiting in the grass, all the plants the same but one, one was different, one was unique, why it was different?

Back then, we weren´t different, armors didn´t mean rank, they meant nothing but those days are gone, I´m no longer a changeling.

I am a pony now.

I know who I am. I finally know me.

At last.

*****

“Well, look at that! I think I have never seen YOU around here before!”

“...hi. My name is Clover Leaf, nice to meet you.”