Dear Princess Celestia, [s]You probably won’t- will not-[/s] [s]I write to you with a-[/s] As you can see, Spike is currently away. I recently found a cache of my old letters to you - [i]of course[/i] I made Spike write them in duplicate - and after reading them I felt I needed to write another. I have several things to confess to you. I have not been feeling very well [s]as of late[/s] in recent memory, and I might finally know why. I feel like I have been in a daze for the past… who knows how long? Every step I take and everything I do feels like it is guided not by my own decision but by something other. This is not about free will but about… a conspiracy? I have the distinct impression that, even if I were to sit right here and refuse ever to move again, the world around me would somehow move to accomplish the same outcome irregardless. Even if I stumble my way through everything I do, even if I make all the mistakes I can, I will still arrive at the same outcome. [s]Do I deserve what I have[/s] Did you know that, when I was a filly, I wanted to grow up to be a musician? My dad used to play the piano for me at my old home in Canterlot. One of his melodies has not left my mind since. I might visit today, if I get the chance - but every time I do, something prevents me. Every time I want to set my hooves to the keys myself and play the tune I have heard in my head so many times before, I am whisked away without second notice with my thoughts and actions immediately focused on another issue. I hear it even now, lilting as I return to this letter. But I have other matters to attend to. To one more item to be checked off the list. I have a good hunch that I will never get that opportunity*. I cannot be a musician, because I am me. How [i]long[/i] has it been this way? Is there someone pulling at my strings from behind the curtain, always watching but never in the spotlight, making me dance for years on end only to disappear back into obscurity once the stage has been set? In hindsight, I think… [i]it[/i] has been accelerating, whatever [i]it[/i] is. All I ever do is dance now. Whenever I talk to my friends or anyone, I cannot help but think that [i]something[/i] is missing. They lack substance, and so do I. You see, after reading a few of my old lessons I felt my stomach pull up into a knot. I remembered none of them. Even now, several days after as I return to this, I cannot recall any of them. Taking any one letter - that [i]I have dictated myself[/i] - brings a chill.Have I learned anything? Has learning ever been the objective, despite my thirst for knowledge? I have read thousands of books, and yet I can remember more of them than I do of my friends’ lives. Yet, we seem to do just fine. There has never been any strife between us that could not have been solved by a little magic or my presence or some token gesture - and if there were, I would not remember it. I do not know what I learned today. I feel hollow, Princess. I don’t know what to do. Does it matter? *especially not after today. I have a Canterlot express to catch. [i]Ever your most faithful student,[/i] [i]Twilight Sparkle.[/i]