"Well, one thing's for certain!" I gently fold the dress back up and regretfully hide it away in the package that Rarity brought it in. "I'm taking extra special care of this, which means I'm putting it somewhere high up where it's far from the range of Spike's random, violent sneezes. Heehee!"

"Oh... Uhm... How v-very thoughtful of you, Twilight," I hear Rarity say, her tone dull and shifty.

Why does she sound so nervous tonight? It seems like she has a lot on her mind. Oh dear, could something really bad have happened to her recently? Am I missing a personal plea from her to get something off her chest? Uhhhh... It wouldn't be right for me to just wait and assume she'll express herself in front of the girls at dinner, would it? Oh Celestia help me, why can't I get better at reading other ponies' feelings?

"Rarity?" I look her way.

"Y-yes, Twilight?" Her face is very red all of the sudden. Wow, I really forgot hot allergic she can get to dust. Surely there must be some ancient tome on unicorn sinus cures that I've left lying around.

Before I can speak again, something bright is bouncing between us.

"Heya, Rarity!" Pinkie sing-songs. "How's it hanging?!"

"Waa-haa-haa-haaa!" Rarity shrieks in overtly dramatic surprise. Yeesh, it really hurts the ears when she just lets off like that. "Ohhhh my frazzled nerves!" She holds a hoof over her heaving chest. "Pinkie Pie! Were you here the whole time?"

"Noperooni! I was upstairs the whole time! Studying!"

"Studying what, pray-tell?"

"Uhhhh... I dunno." Pinkie Pie blinks over my way with innocent blue eyes. "Is it possible to study the pictures in books, Twi?"

"Heehee..." I grin her way. "Only if you stand to learn from them. Then, sure, I guess you could."

"Woohoo! Great!" Pinkie rears her forelimbs and prances in place. "I just learned an awful lot about mommy and daddy ponies!"

"Ahem." Rarity backtrots, almost stumbling into the doorframe as he makes a semi-graceful exit from the library. "I suppose I should... erhm... stop by Sugarcube Corner early. You know, to make extra sure that our reservations are in order..."

"But, I don't get it!" Pinkie Pie's face scrunches up. "Why wouldn't Mrs. Cake stay true to her promise to Spike—?"

"I-I just need to go! Fresh air is awfully hard to come by these days! Ehhh heh heh! Ahem. Ta-ta, fillies!" And Rarity's gone, bathed in the effluent red glow of the sunset, at least until the door bends shut to obscure her departure.

"What's the dealio with her feelios?" Pinkie blinked at me. "Her village must have been attacked by a bunch of old books and dust bunnies when she was a filly!"

"Heheh... Perhaps you're right."

"Whatever! Hiya, Twilight!" Pinkie bounces.

"Hmmm..." I smile. "Hi, Pinkie."

"Hi again! Heeheehee!" She cavorts around me, her mane and tail full of flounce and color. "How long until it's party time?! I can't wait!"

"About twenty minutes," I say. "And I'd hardly call it a party, Pinkie. We're just getting together to chat and have dinner."

"Any time we spend together is a partyyyy!" Pinkie says with a beaming expression as she makes merry circles around the library. "Because I'm having the bestest time with my bestest friends with the bestest foods! All of those bestests together can't be an accident!"

"Pinkie, 'bestests' isn't even a word," I drone. "Heck, neither is just 'bestest!'"

"Well, if I said 'betterer,' I'd make you think that I was asking for margarine!" She stops to gaze into a scrumptious cloud of thought and drool. "Mmmmmm... margarine..."

I'm giggling yet again. Why can't I hold all this laughter?

"What did Rarity get you? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

"Oh, a very, very gorgeous dress!" I say with a flighty jump to my heart. "I can't believe how lucky I am. I mean, with friends like you and her—"

"Are ya gettin' hitched?!"

"Huh?"

"Well, why else would you have a wedding dress?"

"I... it... Nnngh—It's not a wedding dress, Pinkie!"

"But why wouldn't you want to get married?"

"Ugh..." I lean back against a bookcase and drag a hoof over my brow. "Pinkie..."

"Oooh! I know! It's because every stallion in town is intimidated by Princess Celestia!"

"Huh?! What? I don't even—"

"Cuz if I knew that my mother-in-law could raise the sun, what's to stop her from lifting the roof off the honeymoon suite?!"

"Oh jeez!" I flinch, flushing terribly. I feel like my lungs are going to explode. "Pinkie—!"

"Heeheehee! Ahem... 'Why, hello, Twilight. You'd better be writing a letter to all the incense, candles, and fluttering rose petals, my good and faithful student!'"

"Princess Celestia is my godmother," I grunt in Pinkie's direction while I levitate the package with Rarity's dress to a tall shelf above my work desk. I clear my throat and try to scare the hot blood away from my cheeks. "And anyways, stop teasing me."

"Teasing you?"

"I'm... not exactly ready to start thinking about getting married," I mutter. "Or anything nearly that serious."

"Heehee! Silly filly! Who said getting married had to be serious!"

"Ehhh?" I give her a strange face.

"Falling in love is like baking bread! Give the dough a little heat, and it rises on its own!"

"Ugh, Pinkie..."

"Heehee! No need for all the stance and circumpomp!" She freezes in mid-bounce, her eyes crossing. "Oh... wait..."

"Come on, Pinkie. I gotta find this book on Whinniepeg food recipes. No more talking about marriage."

"Why not?"

“Just because,” my sighing breath says.

I linger in the middle of the room, focusing on the piles of books before me, on the nearest periodical to my grasp, on the shadow that I am making in the candlelight, on just about anything but the sound of her voice, the brightness of her coat, and the sweet, sugary smell wafting off her powdery mane like so many candied sprinkles.

Pinkie Pie is the least serious pony in all of Ponyville. Why is it that I can't just... relax around her? She's only trying to make me feel good, after all, to make me laugh. Heck, a lot of times she succeeds. Heehee... I'm almost in stitches this very moment.

But, it's like I can't feel calm around her. No, that's not it, I don't think. I can't feel... safe around her. What an awful thing to say, really. She's such a good pony, a nice and friendly pony. But every time she bounces past my path, every time she goes out on a limb to make me laugh and smile, I feel my throat clenching up, for fear that something desperate will burst forth... and the absolute last thing it will ever be is a chortle or a guffaw.

It's a wonderful, delightful world that Pinkie Pie lives in. But I wish that I knew that world, that I could understand it like she does, without having to read up on it and do extensive research about it. The world that I know—the world that I think I know—is so much colder, darker, and lonelier. Only now, barely two years into living here in Ponvyille, I am just starting to see the blinding, joyous light of what she and my other friends have grasped all their lives. I'm... not entirely sure how I can handle it all. It seems like so much to grasp all at once, so much to learn and adapt to with the risk of making oneself look like a fool. I'm quite scared, actually. And of all ponies that I know, Pinkie Pie is the last one I want to admit to that I'm frightened.

But then she slides up against me and gives my neck a gentle nuzzle, and I realize just how wrong I've been in the past, and that I could stand to be wrong multiple times in the future.

"Heehee! Cheer up, emoquine!" She smiles with that piercing grin, the same gaze that can tear straight through my heart and leave me sighing instead of bleeding. "Life's all about living! Whether you do it alone or with a special somepony someday, it's all good, so long as you just live it up!"

I smile gently and nod in her direction. "I know that, Pinkie." But do I? I mean really? "Thanks for trying to cheer me up..."

"Anytime, Sparkletastic! Heehee!"

I return to the books, looking desperately for that insanely elusive book, or at least pretending to be searching for it. I wanted to be prepared for this evening. I wanted to have all of my notes together for the dissertation on old unicorn dishes to give to the girls. But, just like always as of late, I'm left frazzled and disorganized, having to pick up the fallen puzzle pieces to my plans, and all of them punched loose in Pinkie Pie-shaped holes.

There's really no reason for Pinkie Pie to be here right now. I was just starting my search for the missing book when she knocked on the door, asking to hang out. She had no excuse, other than the fact that she was bored and would like to be around a friend she cared for. Normally, I would have turned her away, because I was too busy performing my research and other tasks. Well, more appropriately, the old Twilight would have turned her away.

It's come to this. I've determined that there is an "old Twilight" about me, and that I am trying to distance myself from her as much as possible. In the two years since I arrived at Ponyville, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm here to stay. My life has changed. I'm no longer just a young student relocated from Canterlot, eager to report on the magic of friendship. I am... morphing, reshaping myself, fitting into the grooves that I only now realize have been fatefully left for me to fill here.

The "old Twilight" would have had nothing to do with this sort of change. She would have been more than comfortable just settling with the past way of doing things. She'd love to return to the dreary nights of studying alone in the bedroom, not seeing daylight, not even paying Spike much mind. She'd love to see me curling up under the covers, unable to sleep, waiting for the tears to come and drain her until she was exhausted enough to surrender to the shadows of her lonely existence.

No... I don't really care much for "old Twilight." I like it here in Ponyville. I am thrilled and excited by my new life, by having made such amazing friends. I know that I've written to Princess Celestia about it, left and right, up and down, but there aren't enough words to encapsulate what this moment in my existence means to me.

I am... cheerful here. I can laugh. I can cry. I can do all the things I've ever wanted to do, but—what's more—I can do them and not feel ashamed, because every emotion I allow myself to explore is perfectly fine, because I now have the right companions in the right places to show me that's it's perfectly okay. And, what's more, I can just... relax about it, if only I just let myself.

I suppose... no, I know that Pinkie Pie exemplifies this new era in my life more than any other pony I’ve met. The "old Twilight" would have bitten her head off. Regrettably, I've given her the third degree on several occasions for all the same reasons. But I'm starting to get used to her. The point being, I suppose, is that she's the exact kind of friend I've always wanted. I feel embarrassed to admit it, but I think I had an imaginary friend long ago that more or less matched Pinkie Pie to a T. It wasn't a phase that lasted that long, because my parents bought me Smarty Pants, and something fanciful and childish inside of me dissolved, for I realized that all that mattered was material reality. So, I embraced Smarty Pants, loving her merely as a novelty, and devoted my life to attempting to figure out the physicality of this universe, having long lost touch with the effluent shades of laughter, levity, and—dare I say it?—love.

Love...

For the longest time, I never thought that I would feel love. But lately... I'm not entirely sure...

My heart skips a beat. My nerves tingle in their extremities. I feel an extra bounce in my step... heheh... bounce.

And I'm only feeling all of these things... when she's around. Every time Pinkie Pie giggles, every time she makes a joke—horrible or not—I feel like she's casting beacons of joy down the deep well of the universe and challenging the enormity of everything to cheer back at her. She's so illogical, so senseless, and yet she's got such an insatiable grasp on herself.

Me? I'm just barely starting to feel my hooves on the ground. After so many years of being friendless, I look back and realize that there were nights, weeks, entire dull-gray months when I would have given anything for another pony just to hold me, to caress me, to do anything that was in her power to make me do what I'm doing right now, that which Pinkie has blossomed forth without barely having try:

Smiling...

I am smiling. There was a time when I thought that even that was a waste of time and energy. How could I have been so cold, so morose? It seems so bizarre, so hyperbolically senseless. And now that I'm in the same room with somepony like Pinkie—who is the very epitome of senselessness—I feel like I can see with new eyes, feel with new hooves, hear with new ears. Is this a transformation I feel, shooting butterflies into my stomach and distracting me to the point of collapse?

Or is this love...?

I wish I could figure it all out. I wish I could answer all of my own questions. I wish... that I could just find this blasted book!

"Heya, Twi?" Pinkie's bright hoof slides into view, holding a dusty blue tome. "Is this what you're looking for?"

I gasp wide and clasp the book before me. "A Journal on Old Whinniepeg Dietary Supplements!" I grin and spin around to beam at her. "Pinkie, I was looking everywhere! How on earth did you find it so easily?"

"I dunno." She shrugs. "It was beneath the endtable over there."

"Well, no wonder it's so dusty," I say, blowing the sediment off the binding and coughing briefly. "Wait... Why were you looking under the endtable to begin with?"

"Well, I was thinking about how much Rarity hates dust. And then it occurred to me that dust bunnies wouldn't live long, considering there aren't a lot of carrots hiding in just any nook or crevice—"

"Pinkie... Pinkie... Pinkie..." I shake my head with a sigh. I smile in her direction, hugging the book to my chest and wishing I was hugging her instead. "Do you even hear yourself at times?"

"Well, duh! My ears can't share a room separate from my mouth, now can they?!"

"Ughh, Pinkie..."

"Besides, I'm sure the rent's a lot smaller so long as they all share the same space on my head! Heeehee!" She bounces across the room.

I exhale long and hard. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Uhmmm..." She scratches her chin and glances up towards the wooden ceiling of the place. "Tan my flankside?"

I do a double-take. "Wh-What?!" I feel a horrible blush coming...

"Well, that's what my daddy would usually say, back to back, after I set fire to the kitchen. Her voice undulates in a ridiculously masculine tone. "'Pinkamena Diane Pie, what am I ever going to do with you?! I'm gonna tan your flankside, little missy!'" She turns and winks my way. "I didn't start bouncing around on my own, y'know. The paddle makes for a good springboard, don'tcha think?"

"Heeheehee, oh Pinkie..."

"Wow, Twilight..." She trots towards me. "You sure are breathless tonight!"

"Heh... I can't help it."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Uhhhhh..." I gulp, stammer, and turn away from her. "We're gonna be late!"

"Huh?"

"To the dinner at Sugarcube Corner!"

"Ohhhhhhhh..."

"Time to cast anchor, if you pardon the pun," I say as I wander over to a large stack of books on my workbench. "Just gotta truck these along..."

"Wowsies! You're gonna bring all of those books?!"

"Well, it helps to be prepared. I wasn't sure exactly which culinary topics you girls wanted to hear, so—"

"Here, Twilight, allow me!"

"Allow you to what?"

She slides up and snaps my saddlebag around her waist. It's... curious to see the image of my cutie mark hugging her ribcage. "Fill 'er up!" She opens a pouch for me to dump the books in. "I'll be your packhorse for the evening! Heehee! I always wanted to try it out! Ever since Dashie lent me 'Daring Do and the Coltlumbian Coffee Grindmare!'"

"Oh, Pinkie, you don't have to—"

"The books ain't gonna carry themselves, girl!" She winks. "Opportunity of a lifetime!"

I bite my lip. Something about this is so silly, so childishly chivalrous of her. Do all of my friends think that I'm a frail weakling who can't even carry her own books? What's more, why is it that I kind of feel... okay with being treated so delicately?

"Well, alright," I say, stifling a giggle and telekinetically sliding the items into her—er, I mean my bag. "There ya go. Just don't jostle them around so—"

"Weeeeee!" Pinkie Pie bounces forward, the saddlebag leaping chaotically along with her. "Off to Sugarcube we go! Anchors away! Heeehee!"

I sigh, shake my head, and turn the lights out as I trot out the library with her. Evening has fallen. Everything is cool and tranquil in the advent of another summer night. I can't help but feel a little bit of Pinkie Pie's infectious jubilant spirit as we make our way across the shadowed lengths of the town under the freshly blossoming stars. Still, a part of me drags a little, a part of me that is both perplexed and concerned all at once.

Is this the true Pinkie Pie? Is she all joy, giggles, and sunshine? All my life, I've wanted a friend just like her. Even in the times that she's annoyed me, I knew that I couldn't shut her out completely. I think everypony needs that special someone, a soul that is so undeniably, dependably, and even two-dimensionally joyful every hour of every day of every year. It's such a relief to have that rock to lean on, that glittering cool pool to toss oneself in when the stress of life becomes too frictious.

But, still, I worry. She's so kind and receptive and loving to the likes of me. Doesn't she want the same in return? Isn't there a part of her that is just as equally sad as she is happy, that needs to be held and caressed, just like the "old Twilight" so desperately wanted but could never admit to in all of those long and lonesome years?

Ponies are amazing creatures, such deep and fathomless souls worth exploring for each and every shiny bit of truth that there is to reveal. We are all like icebergs, in a way, with only the tiniest, brightest parts of ourselves lying above the surface for the world to see. But it's what lies beneath the waves, the parts of us that are made whole by such dear and intimate friendships as I have made in the past two years, that are what hold true buoyancy, that threaten to dash dreams asunder and displace nightmares all the same. Pinkie Pie is the greatest mystery I've ever had the grace of studying, and still I feel like I've yet to pierce the utter depths of her in even a fraction of the degree to which she's exposed me. And I'm just now starting to feel the need to thank her for it.

"Pinkie Pie...?"

"Hmmm?" She pauses in bouncing just long enough to smile at me. Beyond her, I see the colorful shapes of Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, and Fluttershy all gathered in front of Sugarcube Corner, waving our way and beckoning us to join them. "Is there something on your mind?"

I want to tell her... I want to show her that what's on my mind is no longer important to me. It stopped being so important months ago, somewhere amidst all the lessons and all the experiments and all the letters to the Princess. If only I could share with her my heart, the deepest and most intimate parts of me that still hide beneath the frigid surface, bobbing, waiting to melt at the slightest hint of her invitation. And perhaps that is how I've come to realize that it's foolish to wait for an invitation in the first place. I've come a long way from the "old Twilight" to understand that part of being a friend is knowing when and where it's okay to be selfish.

"Could I get a hug?"

Pinkie blinks. Pinkie smiles. "Any time and any day of the week, silly filly." She says this against my ear, for she is already holding me close, clutching me hard to the point of breaking, until I realize that I am just as weak and delicate as the unicorn mare that she offered to carry books for.

And it feels so warm, so right, so fantastically electric to be hanging here, nestled in her gentle, caressing forelimbs. If I collapsed right here and now, sobbing in her arms, I have no doubt she'd keep me locked in her embrace, absorbing every shake and gasp until the last bits of "old Twilight" are gone for good, and all that would remain is the part of me feeling numb, feeling safe, feeling frightened and solaced all at once.

Yes. Yes, I do think this may be love.

I gulp and murmur against her fluffy mane, "Thank you, Pinkie Pie..."

"Hmm? For what?"

I smile and clench my eyes shut. "For not knowing what I'm thanking you for."

"Uhhhh... Sure! I can do that any day of the week too!"

"Heeheehee," I laugh until a few tears sprout forth. They are good tears. "I know that, Pinkie. Now... let's go have ourselves a nice dinner."

"Okie dokie lokie!"