Let me ask you something: Have you ever worked your tail off for years to get something that you really wanted, only to realize that it wasn't anything like you imagined? Black turns to white and right becomes left and soon what you thought you had becomes something else—something unrecognizable. Something alien. What happens when you spend your life striving for gold and when you finally reach it, it turns to dust in your hooves?

Do you move on and hope for more? Do you settle for what you have? Do you calmly accept that no matter how hard you try, your goals will never be realized because there was nothing to reach in the first place?

The paper laid alone on the oak table in the center of the room. Nothing accompanied it but a quill that sat in an ink jar just to its right. The curly, loopy header signified the paper's status as the most important piece of documentation in my life: the Wonderbolts Contract—the key to my dreams.

All of my dreams.

That one form—that single sheet of paper—was the key to every dream I'd had since I was a filly.

Every dream except one.

Hang on, let me back up. My name is Rainbow Dash; I'm sure you've heard of me. I'm the fastest, most agile flier Equestria has ever known—the bearer of the Element of Loyalty—the epitome of awesomeness—the definition of coolness and the embodiment of radicalness. Well, at least I thought I was.

You see, my lifelong dream has always been to get into the Wonderbolts—a group of Equestria's top fliers; they travel around the country putting on airshows the likes of which you'd never believe. When I was just a little filly, my dad took me to see one of their shows in Cloudsdale; I was so amazed with their crazy stunts and high-speed aviation that I whooped and hollered louder than anypony else in the stands. I wanted that—I wanted to be up there with them, strutting my stuff to thousands of adoring fans. I've done nothing but train every day since for the moment when I'd be declared their newest member.

Well, almost every day.

Anyway, a couple of years ago, my morning practice was ruined when I crashed straight into the single greatest obstacle I've ever known. What was it? Well, “what” isn't exactly the right word to use—who, is more like it. And the “who” was Twilight Sparkle: Princess Celestia's personal protege. She has got to be the cutest, smartest, funniest, most awesome pony that I've ever met—and I've met
Spitfire, the Captain of the Wonderbolts!

I'm getting ahead of myself, again.

I don't know what it was, but I found myself unable to think straight. Why couldn't I just ignore her? Why couldn't I have just said “sorry” and kept practicing like the other five million times I've crashed into ponies? I don't know. I never used to believe in love at first sight but it's strange—before I'd even said a word to her, my heart was practicing its own stunts; I couldn't breathe or think or talk or even get off of her! I know this sounds cheesy, but it's like I knew the second I looked into her shocked amethyst eyes that she was going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

We became fast friends and teamed up with some other ponies to stop the evil villain called Nightmare Moon from taking over Equestria. Still, even though I made a few new friends that day, I couldn't help but feel that Twilight was the most special one of them all: a diamond among rubies, if you will. I mean, sure, Fluttershy, AJ and I go way back and we're super close, but, for some reason, I felt something different around this new unicorn that I'd never felt before—butterflies danced in my stomach as I tried to say more than a few words without stuttering about how gorgeous her mane is or blushing like a stupid school filly over her every compliment!

I tried to pass it off as a simple crush and move on, but I couldn't. No matter how hard I trained or how skilled I got, my thoughts never turned from that nerdy little unicorn that literally lived in the library; no move was perfected until she complimented it—no boast was too great until she rolled her eyes—no stunt was too lame unless she didn't cheer and no remark was too stupid unless she said so. And yet, she never did—no matter how badly I messed up. She always just gave me this gentle kind of smile that could melt the heart of an ice dragon—a happy kind of oh, Dashie look that made my knees wobbly and my face burn.

I don't know how many times I tried to tell her over the years, but I never could. I could be right on the cusp of saying it and something would happen—I'd lose my nerve or a barking dog would run through or she was really a changeling in disguise—yeah, that was a fun evening. Not. But, life goes on, I suppose. I found a pet, Fluttershy learned to stand up for herself, we saved a foreign kingdom and Pinkie Pie managed to clone herself a million times. A few weeks ago, I even mailed my application papers to the Wonderbolt Academy, where stuntponies are trained before they can perform. I said my goodbyes to my friends when I was accepted and left my stupid feelings behind me. I soon became the star of the camp, graduating at the top of my class with several academy records under my belt. Naturally, I was the prime candidate for initiation—in their Class A division, no less.

Which brings me full circle back to this moment—and the paper.

I ____________ do swear by my wings that I will uphold the traditions and esteem of the Equestrian Wonderbolts. I understand that, should Equestria ever enter a state of war, my services may be called for against my will in the Royal Equestrian Air Force. I understand that my first loyalty will always be to the Wonderbolts and that I will go where I am sent and follow the orders of my superiors for the length of time specified in the contract above, so help me Celestia.

It was right there: everything that I had ever wanted growing up—seeing the world, amazing everypony with my awesome flying skills and partying alongside the world's finest pegasi. The quill trembled in my mouth, but I didn't move any closer to the scroll.

“Something wrong, Cadet?”

I turned my head to see Spitfire cocking her brow at me, concern etched across her face. I closed my eyes and sighed. “No...” When I opened my eyes again, she was staring at me so intensely that I felt like she was searching my very soul.

“You're not fooling anypony, Dash,” she said, frowning. “What's the matter, you don't want to be a Wonderbolt anymore?”

“No!” I protested quickly. All of a sudden, I was on my hooves—I didn't even remember getting up. “It's not that, it's just...” I sighed and looked at the paper again. “I don't know...” My gaze fell to the floor, and I noticed that the outer mists of the cloud floor were swirling around my hooves. That was a strange revelation; I'd lived on clouds almost my whole life and I was just now noticing that?

I felt a hoof come to rest on my shoulder. “Hey, take your time; it's a big decision.”

“But it's not supposed to be!” Even I couldn't hide the whine in my voice. “I've been training for so long...”

“There are other things in life besides flying in fancy circles, Cadet. You should follow your heart.”

I looked up at the now smirking stuntmare. Gritting my teeth, I growled and shrugged off her hoof. “You don't understand! This was it!” I gestured madly at the table. “This!” I cried, waving the paper through the air for emphasis. “This was the goal! This was definitive point of my whole life! I've never dreamed of anything else!”

That smirk was starting to get on my nerves; she wore it like a badge of honor, shoving it in my face every time I looked her direction. “Nothing else?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lavender flashed through my vision. I saw images of myself frolicking in the park on Hearts and Hooves Day—napping in the shade of an apple tree after a picnic—curled up with an action-packed novel out front of the fire place—under the covers of my bed while the rain poured outside, my hooves wrapped tightly around—

No. I shook my head. Don't be stupid!

I took a deep breath to clear my mind. “Nothing,” I answered icily, giving that stupid smirk my fiercest glare. “Not. One. Thing.”

Scooping the quill off the floor, Spitfire brought it back onto the table and deposited it by the contract. “Then sign it.” Her voice was quiet, but I heard the challenge in her tone. She didn't think I could do it! Why, that no good... What right did she have!

I snorted and scooped the quill back up, determined to show her a thing or two. I dipped it in the ink and brought the tip to the dotted line.

...I understand that my first loyalty will always be to the Wonderbolts and that I will go where I am sent and follow the orders of my superiors...

I could see Fillydelphia and Baltimare! I could put on shows for royalty! I could roll in Bits and hang out with the Wonderbolts and sit in VIP areas! No more wishing I could be a Wonderbolt! No more dealing with other ponies' problems for them! No more barely scraping by as a weatherpony in some unheard-of town in the middle of nowhere!

Out of blue, my stomach heaved, sending me lurching over the table. No more Ponyville, I realized. No more teaching little Scootaloo how to be a mare. No more small town life. No more Applejack or Rarity or Pinkie or Tank...

No more Twilight; my heart sank. The idea of only seeing Twilight for a few snatches of time every few months or so made my chest hurt.

“Well?” Spitfire asked, the stupid smirk on her face still mocking me.

I closed my eyes tightly. She was right; I needed to follow my heart.

“I... I...” The quill slipped from my mouth. “I can't...”

Spitfire frowned, even I had barely heard the words.

“I can't do it...” I said, louder this time. My voice cracked as my eyes started to burn. I buried my head in my hooves and collapsed onto the table.

A hoof settled on my shoulder again, but this time it felt more like the gentle hoof of a friend than the hard hoof a superior. When I opened my eyes, the tears started to fall, but I didn't mind. Spitfire looked back at me with the most comforting smile I'd ever seen and pulled me into her embrace. I don't remember the last time I was hugged—months ago, I think.

It felt nice.

“I'm sorry,” I sobbed, hiccuping afterward. Celestia, I was pathetic.

“There's nothing to be sorry about,” Spitfire assured me, patting my back. “The 'bolts just aren't for you, that happens sometimes.” She pulled back to look me in the eyes and wiped the tears off my face. “Now, go get her!”

“Huh?” I managed to choke out. “Wh-what—“

“Your purple friend?” she chuckled, tussling my mane with a hoof—if anypony but my fillyhood hero had tried to do that, they'd wake up in the hospital. “That one you're always staring at? You should tell her how you feel.”

My cheeks burned. I was blushing, I knew I was, but I didn't care; there was no point in denying it anymore: I'd fallen wings over tail for my smartest friend. I sniffled and took a deep breath. “Yeah,” I said, letting the air escape my lungs. “I-I will.”

Spitfire smiled and let go of me. Walking back to the table, she grabbed the contract and rolled it up. “You're sure about this?” she asked,. “You do realize that we can only offer the spot once—say 'no' now and it's 'no' forever...”

I nodded, once again turning my attention to the mist dancing around my hooves. I didn't need the Wonderbolts—I needed Twilight. “Mm-hm.”

Spitfire sighed and pocketed the paper. “Then I guess we're done here.” She turned around and opened the door. Shouts and whistles entered the room with the light of the sun. “You would've made one heck of a 'bolt, kid,” she said without looking back. “Maybe we'll meet again someday.”

For a moment she just stood there in the doorway, looking outside, then she sighed. Her wings drooped a little. “Good bye, Rainbow Dash,” she said quietly, before taking her first steps through the exit. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

“Bye,” I whimpered as I watched her walk out of the room. The door closed, hitting the frame with a soft thud.

I was alone.

And that's how my dream of joining the Wonderbolts died.