Six fountains of incandescence surrounded the mare as she breathed slowly.

Inhale. Cutie Marks are good.

Exhale. Difference is good.

Inhale. Cutie Marks are good.

Exhale. Difference is good.

The candles had lost several inches and only a fraction remained. Starlight had noted earlier that one in particular had begun to smoke more than the others. The mare's eyelids twitched, but she kept them closed. She needed to focus on her meditations, but the more she thought about the importance of such focus, the more her mind was pushed to remember why she felt the need to recluse herself for the day...

Starlight noticed a couple of ponies in a disagreement at the park. They were arguing about the qualities of the jazz music being played by ponies on the stage. Both of these mares were into music themselves, both even roommates, but their skills and experiences with music were different. One was a white-coated, vibrantly blue-haired DJ and the other a nearly grayscale, dark-maned classical musician. And this difference, though minor compared to most members of society, was still sufficient to generate conflict with regards to their passion. Wherever passion and talent were found, conflict over quality was always present.

While she had tried to ignore the matter, she inevitably had another inexcusable thought. If they just didn't have those stupid, worthless, disgusting Marks, they wouldn't need to fight! Upon hearing herself think that way, she excused herself from Bon-Bon's birthday to come here.

As Starlight left the party, Spike had put a claw on her shoulder. "Starlight, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." Whenever someone else looked at her, Starlight was afraid that they could see past her eyes, so she looked at the ground.

"I'm worried," Spike said. "This is the third time this week you've just up and left something."

Starlight pointed her eyes back at Spike without raising her head, but she did raise her eyebrows and kept her jaw planted in a frown. "Are you saying that I don't have a right to leave when I want?"

Spike let his claw leave her shoulder. "No. I'm only saying that, if you ever need to talk to me about anything, you can."

Focus, Starlight. Her breathing had became irregular, but she tried again to repeat her mantra in her mind.

Inhale. Cutie Marks are good.

Exhale. Difference is g-- frustration. To excel is to fail.

Starlight still had not opened her eyes, but a tear had formed in each. Just do a body scan again. Recenter. You can do this. The tears fell as she pressed her eyes more tightly closed.

The mare focused her attention on the crown of her head. There was a light itch beneath her mane. Her hair felt slightly unclean, probably from sweat. She shifted the focus to her ears. They felt somewhat colder than her head. And they heard no sound save her own breath, which was beginning to become regular again. Then she moved the focus to her horn. There was a small tingle there. Perhaps pent-up magic? No, no. That only happened to particularly strong unicorns. She was no better than anypony else.

Accept your limitations, and happiness will follow. You're no better than your friends.

Why did she still think this way? She had given herself an ultimatum. It was supposed to be fixed a week ago. After all these months, she was not allowed to think this way anymore. That was the deal. She had promised. She swore she would change.

It was not just a promise to herself. Twilight had been reluctant to give Starlight her own room for meditation. Initially, Starlight wanted to use Twilight's mediation chamber, but Twilight said it was out of the question. After a few days of pleading, promising that the meditation would help, Twilight agreed that she could have a room on the ground floor. Maybe Twilight had been right initially to deny her request. Perhaps her quest for self-redemption was futile.

With a shake of her head, she finally opened her eyes. But when she did, she found that the first candle had died in a trail of smoke. That meant she had been in here for at least two hours. Only a sixth of her light was gone, but the whole of her hope went with it. She could not save herself. She was too broken. Too messed up. Too vile.

Wanting friendship and wanting to be reformed were not enough. Her identity was locked up in jealousy and corruption. How she wanted to behave was unimportant. How she wished to think was insignificant. In her heart, she knew that truth. The deep truth that she never dared think. The truth revealed to her all those years ago, that she had embedded in everything she would do from that moment onward. In sameness, there is peace. Exceptionalism is a lie.

"No!" Starlight shouted to the empty room. The breath of her cry blew out another of the candles. This is not how my story ends. Taking a deep breath, Starlight said, "Tomorrow."