:^)

Existence is suffering, and the very fabric of reality is just the result of our own pony insecurities and inability to comprehend the complexities behind our fragile existence. What is living? Are we not merely just tiny insignificant beings with no sense of the lives and feelings of ponies outside our own, stumbling about blindly and getting up just to fall down again every single day? Our lives are a lie, and through our seemingly inconsequential choices, misery manufactures itself in the core of all of us until it eventually tears us apart and destroys us all from the inside out.