“What makes a pony who they are? Their dreams? Their goals and personalities? The way they smile at their friends and promise that they’ll always be there for you? No, that’s not what makes a pony who he or she is. All of these things can be faked. A little lying and some pretending can make a pony you thought you knew look like a stranger.” I smiled and spun to face the other figure in the room. He nodded and mumbled.

“You want to know want makes a pony who they are? What enables you to know who they truly are, with all the lies shed away? It’s fear.” I giggled, happily trotting over to my guest. His eyes followed me but he didn’t answer.

“You don’t believe me?” I shrugged, patting him on the shoulder. “Well, I can’t blame you. Years and years of relationships suffered through for only me to say that they are all fake? Yeah, that’s a bit hard to swallow. But, hear me out.” I turned away from him, walking to the counter and running a hoof across its surface.

“Fears cannot be changed. Ignore what you’ve heard from the liars and pretenders. True fear can’t be dispelled. Sure, you can hide it deep within, and pretend you’re okay, but that doesn’t help. This is the type of fear that makes your persona break down and your lies fade away. It even cracks your perfectly cemented façade. It reduces you to a heap of frightful skin, barking and yelling at anyone to help you. You swear, you thrash, you say things that no sane colt or mare would say under the direst circumstances, all to try to save yourself.” I pushed away from the counter and returned to my guest, wrapping an arm around his neck. He twitched softly at the contact, and then rested again.

“It’s in these moments that you truly get to know a pony, that you see what makes them tick, makes them cry, makes them relax. And then, when it’s all said and done, you have a new friend that you know better than yourself.” I giggled again and leaned in to whisper to the colt.

“I broke through my façade, you know. All the smiles, and happiness? It was lies. Just me trying to cover up what made me, me. You know? I’m much happier now that I can be content with who I really am. It pains me to see so many ponies pretending, and lying to their loved ones. If someone’s gotta… let them get to know themselves, who better than me?”
For the first time, the colt’s eyes locked onto mine before he gazed down to see what was jabbing his neck. I brought the hoof that was around his neck down to his chest, pressing the point of the knife against him. He began to shiver, the chair rattling against the floor. I twirled around the chair, standing face to face with him now, brandishing the knife.

“Let’s get to know each other, shall we?”