Prologue
Pinkie was alone. Again, for the sixth time this week. Tomorrow will make a full week, and it has been the worst week she's had for a while. For about a year and a half she was able to convince Mr. and Mrs. Cake if she can sleep in Pumpkin and Pound's room, that way they wouldn't have to constantly get up and care for their babies every time they cried at night. Pinkie would be the one to get up and feed them, change them, burp them or whatever was necessary to care for the foals in the night. Pinkie didn't mind, she enjoyed it, it meant she wouldn't have to spend it alone.
She was crying again, why does she always cry, shouldn't there be a point where her tear ducts run out and become empty? Pinkie could cry and cry all night, and she could do it without losing a wink of sleep because she could cry watching her own dreams. She would wake up in her damp, tear-filled bed, take a shower and get on with her day as the happy Pinkie Pie she was. And she would do this every day, repetitively. It's not like she would have to force herself to smile, no, Pinkie was truly happy when she was with other ponies. It's those lonely nights that flood her room.