Littles

   Hey guys! I have not written in forever! I am sososo sorry. Anyways today's blog will be a bit different, it's just something I wrote today about Littles. I thought some of you might be able to relate, or if not you might enjoy it. I know the spelling and grammar isn't great, but as I said, I just wrote it today in like 30 mintues because I'm feelin all emotional and stuff... :P  So here you go.

    It all started with a sassy bay pony. A beautiful little pony, but the kind of beauty you have to know to see.  She is too thin, her legs too long. She is too little to be useful, they tell me. She is too fast to fit the definition of the perfect little hunter pony everyone wants. She is used up and thrown out. Maybe that’s why I like her so much, because I relate to her. The less than perfectness, the unwantedness, the rough edges, maybe that’s why I love her. 

   Her eyes though, they go further than that outer shell. They still have that fire, and that cannot be snuffed out by some brats who don’t want her. I want her. Even though the dreams I’ve been taught to have may not have her in the picture, I want her. I need her. I couldn’t stand if she sells to another brat who uses her up and then sells her on. Maybe that’s how this world is supposed to work, but in this pony I see hope that I haven’t seen in a long time. And I know why she is like this.

   The constant goodbyes.  The falling in love, and almost feeling safe, almost being happy, then the goodbye. We are not the spoiled, we do not control this. Goodbye has become just about inevitable when it comes to falling in love. And it makes giving up that much easier.  You can fall so hard, love them so so so much, but you have no control when it comes to their departure. And no matter how many tears you shed, and how many nights you cry yourself to sleep and wonder why it is even worth it anymore, those won’t bring them back. This world is cruel, and that is just how it goes.

   But this pony, this pony is different. Even though the inevitable goodbye may be looming in the future, I can’t protect myself. No matter how much I will myself not to care, how much I tell myself not to fall. I’ve learned that, over the years. You can pretend not to love something, bubble wrap yourself from the pain you get from the goodbye. You can tell yourself countless times that it is “just another horse”. But the pain is still there, it is just masked under a pile of lies. But not this pony.

   People come and try her out. They see whether she is the pony they want. She almost never is. For that I am thankful. Even it prolongs the time I get to spend with her by a couple of months, that time is worth it. But someday someone will come, as they always do, and they will buy her. I will not know this person. I won’t know if they will give her candy hearts, I don’t know if they will carefully groom her, I don’t know if they will hug her tight and promise to never forget her as long as they live. I don’t know if they will have soft hands, or what they will do with her, or if they will ever sell her. But one thing I know for sure is that they could never possibly love her as much as I do.

   But that day will come, like it always does for kids like me.  I am not the lucky one, who’s parents will surprise me with a pony on my birthday. I will not get a ribbon around her neck one morning saying she’s mine. Instead, some other kid will load her onto their trailer and take her home. That’s all. I probably won’t get to visit, and even they let me, I probably won’t. I couldn’t, really. I wouldn’t want to see the perfectly imperfect pony who I love with all my heart in someone else’s barn. With some other kid, who may pretend to love her but I know that they could never love her so much as I do. That’s just the way it works though.

   I will go home and cry into my pillow and wonder why I even do this anymore. And other ponies will come, yes, but they will never be the same. Instead, I will just cry and pray silently that that beautiful, beautiful, sassy bay pony mare would come back. But she won’t. They never do. No miracles will happen, they never do. I’ll always wonder what happened to her, where she is now. And no matter what great scenario I am assured she went to, I will never know. And she will never be replaced to me. Instead, that loss just adds to the others that make me the broken person I am. Maybe I should learn not to love so strongly. I don’t feel very often, but when I do, I feel strongly and love with all my existence. I wonder why I still do it, but I guess even the short time I get to spend with these amazing creatures, these perfect horses, is still worth it.