Nobody really got the real Pinkie Pie. The Pinkie from the rock farm. The outcast, the wacko, the loser. "Pinkamena" was what everyone referred to the "other" her as. The real her.

She supposed that was her own fault though. She didn't like talking about the rock farm. It was too sad, too grey, too boring to be a part of Pinkie Pie- the cheerful, tireless, singing, laughing Pinkie Pie. The Pinkie that everyone saw. The grinning, giggling mask she wore, every second of everyday to hide away the scared, mopey foal that lived out her life from underneath it, watching life go by as if happening to somepony else. And truly it was. The mask was not her. It was a front, a shield. A delicate thing wove of smiling gauze and fake laughter. It was becoming stronger with time, though. Stronger and stronger, feeding on lies and pseudo happiness. She clung to her mask. She wasn't even sure she could take it off if she wanted to. It was her life line, her savior, her guardian angel. It protected her, kept her safe from a cruel world full of too many rocks and not enough rainbows.

Element of laughter? Yeah right.

Pinkie stared at the cliff in front of her, deep in the Everfree forest. She came here more often than she used to. The pink earthpony stared over the edge of the cliff, into the thick forest of conifer trees.

The forest was beautiful –all twisted branches grasping desperately at the sky like thin, boney fingers and hanging moss draped over those branches like cloaks. The bark of the trees was scared and pitted, morphing into hideous faces before her eyes.

Giggle at the ghosties, her mask hummed to itself, guffaw at the grossly.

Pinkie stopped herself. Sometimes, the mask stuck. Sometimes, the mask would fall off. The pony remembered back to Gummy's after-birthday party, her birthday. She was typically more vulnerable then.

Pinkamena stared down at the forest again, wondering if it would be worth it. If her lives, false and true, were worth living another day. Nopony would expect it, not the bubbly, happy pony everypony thought they knew.

If anypony missed her, it would be the mask getting missed, not her, the outcast, twisted, true her. Pinkie sighed, pondering over her question.

Crack up at the creepy, whoop it up with the weepy.

The earth pony shook her head viciously. She was the creepy, the weepy. She who hid her true self for fear of what? She honestly didn't know. She supposed she'd must've had a reason at some point, but that reason was pushed to the back shelves of her mind as the need to hide took over.

She peeked over the cliff's edge, bright blue eyes struggling to make sense of the twisted shadows presented to them. That was a long drop. That was a very good, and very final hiding.

A tear strolled down the pink pony's cheek, before she took a hoof and hovered it over the edge. A smile spread over her face as she whispered "goodbye" and stepped out into the empty space in front of her.

And as she fell, she removed her mask.