My life was in a great sense straightforward; I had wings, I loved to fly and I dreamt big. It was in this dreaming that I became the pony I am today. I am one of the Wonderbolts; high flyers who put themselves on the line in great entertainment and stood as heroes to those who were most faithful.
I was one of those faithful.
Ever since my father took me to see the Wonderbolts as a filly, I had always strived to become one of them: young, brave, athletic, and most important of all, inspiring. Fortunately, of course this wasn't the product of a propaganda machine; this was purely our own decision to be that somepony who dared to dream and did. Therefore, I took it upon myself to write my signature on the sign-up board. My signature written in fine ink on a list of the names of other dreamers like myself secured me in a position I knew held great and overwhelming responsibility. After all, the Wonderbolts aren't just a group of stunt ponies. We are role models.
I remember the first time I took to the skies. It was a cold but clear afternoon and I had only just learned how to fly. I was only maybe three or four years old at the time, and while my vigilant parents were proud for me, they sort of knew that I would be going places now that I had learnt to take myself upwards. They would always tell me,
"Airheart, darling, don't ever go outside under any circumstances! You're going to get yourself hurt!"
My lusts for the outdoors was killing me though, and while the windows and doors were usually nailed with wood to prevent me from casually escaping outside, the strength I grew out of twisting and opening unnecessarily tight bottle caps and lids easily bypassed this undoubtedly flawed security measure! I broke out of the house while my parents were getting busy in their bed, something they would do a lot, and I took advantage of that. No shame here! When I made my first flight upwards, I felt something I had never experienced before. The air rushing against my face as I soared upwards gave me a somewhat euphoric feeling when I began to focus on my senses. This air that I was breathing and letting slide violently past me, clean and fresh as pure water, gave me a sense of excitement to some extent. The stale, corrid air of my home cannot emulate this. Nor could it emulate the emptiness and freedom of the sky I was travelling across.
It was a few moments after I had regained my sense to think straight after experiencing this euphoric high that I halted to a sudden top in the middle of the vast, open sky. I had been shuttling myself upwards the whole time, but I wasn't looking back. The moment I did look back, however, is a moment I will never forget even to this day. As I looked down, expecting to see the roof of my house and my neighbours, what I saw instead was an uninterrupted view of the world us ponies are so grateful to be given. I saw Equestria. I saw the land, sky and sea and everypony who lived on its surface and sky. I could see the endless rainbows and colours of Cloudsdale underneath me. I could see the vast fields of farms, crops and free range patches of grass of the Unicorn Ranges underneath that and the forests, mountains and rivers that occupied the lands below. What I saw was a view that everypony else I knew with wings only took for granted. The sheer size of Equestria was something I had never realised before. Neither was the gift of my own life. I spotted a gleaming point of light on the distance as I looked around in amazement; on the horizon, as I focused my very young eyes onto the light, sat an entire city, crafted with grandeur architecture, on the slopes of a massive, steep mountainside that I would later recognise during my school years as Canterlot.
As I zoned myself in fascination of Canterlot, however, a very scary thing happened to me. The calm, breezy day suddenly and startlingly turned into a violent nightmare as a massive blast rupturing the air around me occurred over the valley. My memory of the blast itself is very blurry now, but I can still remember seeing a massive ring of colour slowly expanding around the point of origin, spreading across the entire sky below me, with some sort of rainbow extending past the origin and seemingly travelling downwards like some sort of travelling trail. But I wasn't focused on the explosion itself. I was extremely startled by the event, and while I was trying balance myself this high in the sky with the air around me trembling, the shockwave of the explosion slammed me at full force, throwing me off my balance. I could no longer control myself. I was now freefalling and I was frightened. The shockwave temporarily paralysed me, and I just couldn't get my wings to work. As I fell, my fears overcame me and I was left to tell myself that this was not going to end well. I was either going to wake up in hospital or wake up in the hands of god. It was the only logical thing I could think of, and with that I told myself to close my eyes.
I was not going to let fear overcome me now. As I closed my eyes, I let myself go. For a few moments, falling to my inevitable doom, I set my mind free. I forgot all my problems, my worries and my fears. I emptied myself of negativity as I soared down, once again fell into a state of grace I knew this time would be endless. The air that flew past me as I descended rapidly took away every last thing that tied me down with it. It continued for a brief period of time as I became less aware of my surroundings and more aware of my feelings. As I fell further, my mind lost weight and the air seemed to calm. I noticed this. I noticed it but I never thought about it. I didn't think of anything, and it was such a feeling I don't think anypony has ever felt before. I stretched my arms and legs out and in a moment of pure sensation, I felt as if I were gliding; gliding free of my own life and sinking into another. I was no longer possessive of thought, emotion or feeling. I did not dare open my eyes, but then something amazing happened.
My sense of feeling suddenly returned to me, and I immediately felt the company of two warm arms wrapped around my back. I was then shocked and startled as all my senses came back to me in an instant. My wing pains, my thoughts and imagination and even the beating of my heart slapped me in the face in a way that I had actually got a headache upon receiving my senses once more, and I opened my eyes.
I saw the sky above, now tinted a beautiful light orange for the calling of the evening, but that wasn't the thing that amazed me. I also saw a vast herd of a hundred or so other ponies flying around me, circling in a tornado formation; hundreds and hundreds of them. While I also knew how to talk at the time as well, I simply couldn't speak words at the sight I was seeing in front of my eyes. I couldn't help but also notice the figure on my right that was carrying me; he was in a blue costume like the rest of the ponies surrounding me, and was wearing very large flying goggles that I could just see through to make out his blue eyes. His muzzle pierced through the mask to reveal his brown coat and his darker brown hair was combed back. I looked at him with an extremely thankful manner. He had just saved my life. However, I was still speechless to say thank you though, but I suppose he read it in my eyes. He gave me a soft, charming smile and whispered to me in a calm and reassuring voice words that I will forever remember-
"It's alright kid. I've got you."
I returned home with broken wings, and my parents were definitely cross at me. Fortunately, I was flying again by my sixth birthday, but being as what happened last time I took to the skies, I was reluctant to do it again. But of course, when I grew up, I regained my strength and took a passion in flying. I would continually take the same route as I did before- fly high and free fall. Some ponies would resort to drugs or some sort to get their dose of sensations and euphoria, but for me, I have that spot high above Cloudsdale. A place that I will always go to if I ever feel down, out or simply bored of life. This spot that I would always go to, gave me a passion for flying. My fascination with the Wonderbolts was part of that as well. My father always said that the Wonderbolts had no place for someone like me, and I would always believe him because they had saved my life, and I believed I couldn't have the capacity to actually save someone's life. I just wasn't fit to join the Wonderbolts. But that didn't mean I would stop trying. My love for the Wonderbolts was equal, if not, bigger than my love for flying, and I sort of knew in a way that this was one of the spiritual qualifications. But I couldn't simply ask of course; you had to attend the Wonderbolts Academy first. It was much like school, but graduation was far more exciting here than it could ever be in actual school. To become a Wonderbolt was an honour to anyone who achieved the feat, including me, and this honour is something I would keep forever close to my heart.
Of course, being a Wonderbolt wasn't the only thing circling round and round in my young and audacious mind. I got high grades in English in my school years, and I've always wanted to translate that onto something meaningful. This coarse but handy piece of paper that will bear these words until its lengthy publication rink is the best place to start. Whether or not two, three or thousands of ponies will set their skeptical yet interested eyes on these words does not bother me. Whether or not, however, the non-specific number of ponies reading this book will understand these words and take them for what they are is the most important thing for me. I imagine, while they imagine with me.
These words in which I give to you at this very moment are not one of imagination, however. These words hold my life in the Academy, and the lives of many of my friends that I had met in the Academy. Imagination is secondary here. Imagination, however, is not a secondary at the Academy. If you had imagination, you were truly on your way to becoming a Wonderbolt. This imagination, a feeling of feeling, was primary in your success at the Academy. Unfortunately, some at the Academy lost their ability to feel at all, let alone imagine. For one to lose their feelings is something that not only worried them, but worried me as well; I know truly what it is like to feel nothing, but my situation was almost natural. For everypony else, however, my older self included, it is anything but natural. I knew two particular ponies at the Academy that fell too. Not physically like I did, but emotionally.
These words that I will write to you on this piece of paper are the testaments of these two. Two ponies that lost themselves, drew themselves away from their lives and closed their eyes to the world. They however felt again. They felt feelings that were indeed natural; feelings that no pony else could ever stop them from feeling-
Their feelings for each other.