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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Resentment
Dear Diary,
I am lonely. I wish to say it aloud, but I find I cannot. Everytime I wish to speak, the words refuse to come forth. I feel as if this burden is mine to carry. Mine to solve. Other ponies seem to have no trouble making friends, so why must I be troubled so?
My sister has always been popular. Why cannot I be as her? I know that we are different, yet I yearn for the popularity she has found. I should speak to her of it. I know she would be willing to listen. Until then, it shall be our secret, dearest diary.
Dear Diary,
I tried to tell her how I felt, yet at the end of it I found myself bereft of the words. I would have trouble believing such a thing possible were our positions reversed. Once, yes, when we were both younger and had not yet fully grown. Things were much different then. But now, we have all we could ask for. At least, I thought we did. But it seems to me the scales tip in her favor, now that I think about it. I shall have to think on this further, so that I might bring it up with her.
Dear Diary,
It occurs to me that it seems rather extraordinary something that is so obvious to me is something she could somehow miss. She seems to know most everything else. Certainly, she never has any trouble remembering anypony’s name, or knowing what they wish to have for dessert. And I am her sister! How can she not see I am suffering? Unless, of course, it is intentional. I must confront her. She at least deserves a chance to defend herself.
Dear Diary,
I tried, but couldn’t tell her how I felt. How it seems as if she hoards everything to herself. How I wish to share what she has. Besides, I know what she would say. She would try to explain to me that this was simply how it was! That I too had friends, as if the few ponies I spend time with are somehow equal to her vast circle of admirers. It is hardly equitable! Is it so wrong to want to bask, just once, in the warmth she has all the time?
Dear Diary,
If she is so blind, it seems clear that it is deliberate. She wishes for me to languish in shade while she takes all the attention for herself. I shall not stand for it. Sisters are supposed to share, and if she will not share on her own then I shall have to make her! As always, I thank you for listening. I shall find some way to make it clear how I feel.
Dear Diary,
Were you a pony, I would reward you for being my confidante. Thanks to you, it has become ever more clear that I must take what I want for myself. Tomorrow morning, I shall act. All shall understand how I feel, and I shall finally be appreciated for all I do! As for my sister, well! If she shall not stand aside, then she shall be removed. Soon, I shall fill these pages with my tale of victory!
The next several pages show signs of water damage. The rest are blank.
I am lonely. I wish to say it aloud, but I find I cannot. Everytime I wish to speak, the words refuse to come forth. I feel as if this burden is mine to carry. Mine to solve. Other ponies seem to have no trouble making friends, so why must I be troubled so?
My sister has always been popular. Why cannot I be as her? I know that we are different, yet I yearn for the popularity she has found. I should speak to her of it. I know she would be willing to listen. Until then, it shall be our secret, dearest diary.
Dear Diary,
I tried to tell her how I felt, yet at the end of it I found myself bereft of the words. I would have trouble believing such a thing possible were our positions reversed. Once, yes, when we were both younger and had not yet fully grown. Things were much different then. But now, we have all we could ask for. At least, I thought we did. But it seems to me the scales tip in her favor, now that I think about it. I shall have to think on this further, so that I might bring it up with her.
Dear Diary,
It occurs to me that it seems rather extraordinary something that is so obvious to me is something she could somehow miss. She seems to know most everything else. Certainly, she never has any trouble remembering anypony’s name, or knowing what they wish to have for dessert. And I am her sister! How can she not see I am suffering? Unless, of course, it is intentional. I must confront her. She at least deserves a chance to defend herself.
Dear Diary,
I tried, but couldn’t tell her how I felt. How it seems as if she hoards everything to herself. How I wish to share what she has. Besides, I know what she would say. She would try to explain to me that this was simply how it was! That I too had friends, as if the few ponies I spend time with are somehow equal to her vast circle of admirers. It is hardly equitable! Is it so wrong to want to bask, just once, in the warmth she has all the time?
Dear Diary,
If she is so blind, it seems clear that it is deliberate. She wishes for me to languish in shade while she takes all the attention for herself. I shall not stand for it. Sisters are supposed to share, and if she will not share on her own then I shall have to make her! As always, I thank you for listening. I shall find some way to make it clear how I feel.
Dear Diary,
Were you a pony, I would reward you for being my confidante. Thanks to you, it has become ever more clear that I must take what I want for myself. Tomorrow morning, I shall act. All shall understand how I feel, and I shall finally be appreciated for all I do! As for my sister, well! If she shall not stand aside, then she shall be removed. Soon, I shall fill these pages with my tale of victory!
The next several pages show signs of water damage. The rest are blank.