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// April 21st, 11:50 pm 
// Story: Transplants 
// by bahatumay 
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I can’t help but think she’s running away from her problems, kindof? I know she still feels invisible sometimes and maybe she doesn’t have a very tight relationship with us, but we’re working on that. I mean, we’re her friends. We’re here for her. We can help her. I mean, I have great friends here. And if I can do it, I think she can, too. I really think she can make it here. 
And I guess a part of me feels guilty because I think it’s my fault that she’s like that. I think I drove her away. I mean, not just me, but yes me. Kinda. If that makes sense?

I don’t think it’s your fault, or anything you did. She doesn’t blame you for anything. Not that I can tell, anyway. 
I seem to recall you not having many friends at first, too. 

I didn’t have friends because I thought friendship was a waste of time. She doesn’t have friends because she’s got the self confidence of a wet tissue. 
Don’t tell her I said that. 

I won’t. 
You’re not wrong. But don’t tell her I said that. 

Ha!
But seriously. I think another part of me doesn't want her to go back because I don’t want her to give up on us. I think I can help her. I mean, I’m her friend, and I don’t want to lose her. 
But even just writing that, there’s a lot of I, I, I and I know that’s not right. And if I was a good friend, I would worry about what she wants. What’s best for her. And support her. 

You’ve come a long way, Sunset. That whole last paragraph was like you reading my mind. 
It’s good that you care about her, though. 
Did I ever tell you about Pinkie Pie and her yovidaphone?

That’s not a real word.  

Ohhh yes it is. So Pinkie, our Pinkie…