Not Worth A Bit
I've never been the quickest of ponies. That is why I am who I am. If I'd been quicker, I'd have dropped this instrument long before this day. I'm just another earth pony. Maybe not as smart, maybe not as fast, maybe not as good as the pegasus or the unicorn. But I am who I am, and that is not worth a bit.
Not worth a bit. Those are the words I fearfully long to hear. I fear them, for with them, my life is meaningless. But I long for them, because I truly believe in my heart that they are true. I dream about it, sometimes. I'm performing for a crowd of ponies, all pretending that they appreciate my music. All of a sudden, a new pony comes in, one without fear. And they hear my music, turn to the crowd, and say that it isn't worth a bit. Condemning me and freeing me in a single action.
The cello never really was an earth pony instrument. I am, so it is said, the only earth pony who can play one. It's a unicorn instrument, truly. Only those with consummate delicacy and grace can play one. Only the unicorns. I merely mangle the sounds as best I can. Always my memory pricks me, telling me that the best I can do simply isn't good enough.
I thought it would come after the breaking. But thankfully or not, it did not. Ponies still believe my music is worth more than a bit. I hope, and dread, that they do, at least.
It is hard, sometimes, to see the point. Other instruments are more popular than ever, and recorded music gives the joy to those who can't play it. Every night, I stay awake, wondering what the future will bring. Whether I really am worth less than a bit. The scales that seem to weigh my fate never tilt it in favour of me.
I can see that pony every night. It's the same one, each time. A unicorn. Male. White. Blueblood is his name. He comes in, and says my music isn't worth a bit. I try to hide, but the dream keeps following me.
I can't run from it anymore. It seems to just be so useless. Every day, I see other ponies doing better than me. Every day, ponies are doing things they enjoy. But all the while, I'm just here. Just part of the background to their happy lives. If there was even somepony who cared about me, I'd have the strength to carry on. But every day, the chances of that happening seem to get lower and lower.
A musician's life is a hard one, especially for a classicist. I didn't eat last week. I found a coin on the pavement today. Maybe today, even for a moment, I'll be worth a bit. There's no real food it will buy me. Not even a single apple.
I wake when the sun rises, and sleep when it sets. A candle or a lamp would cost too much to use. So I save them. Sometimes they're all I have to keep warm with. The winter's chill is so very cold.
But then, as with every year, the Gala comes around. With it, the only time I have even so much as a bit. For a month before and after, I'm lucky enough to be usually one of those hired out by the elite for their parties. They don't even let us eat the scraps of the food they leave. They toss them to the birds.
Then, if we're lucky, the two month period of prosperity leaves enough that we can just survive the rest of the year until it comes round again. But it's hard. We move from apartment to apartment, from flat to flat, leaving when our debt gets too high. Carefully moving, for if your instrument breaks, there is nothing left to do. You have nothing worth even a bit to show for your hard life. The economy is tough, so they tell me.
Princess Celestia is our hope each night, but even the princess is not all powerful. Even she can't make the world turn right. But we see her looking to us, each day. Tears running down her face.
She knows us each by name. She sends out an individual invitation to perform at the Gala to each of us. She knows when we're struggling, and sometimes an anonymous gift is left on our doorstep, usually with enough food for a month, or two. Would that there was prosperity enough for all of us, even those not worth a bit.
You've read my tale. Please, don't mourn for me. I am gone, the troubles of the world can no longer harm me. Mourn for those still struggling, those who don't have the strength to end it, those who have failed already.
Mourn for the lost children of Equestria. For those who are not worth a bit.
Stats
Page generated in 0.016 seconds
Total duration
1,023 users online
2,180,616 hits today, 2,782,760 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Wow, it'll be Blueblood\Octavia? Rare pairing, but very potent! Tracked!
Very moving first chapter, tracked and favorited.
Very nice indeed!
Wow... Octavia experiencing such crushing self-defeat... very well done, I liked the way it was written. Very tragic.
You've got yourself a favorite, a track and some stars
Blueblood and octavia......wow...never expected such combo.....lets see....Track this story...checked.....watch this guy....checked.....
If you had some time at all do help giving some feedback on my story too...just click on my profile name and ur know where to start looking...
...
wut?
So basically, musicians are at the absolute bottom of the Equestrian social ladder for some reason, even though they frequently play at high society gathering, and Celestia - the near perfect immortal sovereign with absolute authority - can't do anything to support the arts even though she really wants to?
I dunno. You were on to something in the beginning with Tavi going on about her insecurity. She actually sounded a lot like those perfectionist authors who insist their writing is worse that it actually is. You went a bit over the top at the end, though.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=j2d9-XWTKRI