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02/08/12(Wed)04:23 No.34080548>One Christmas morning, buried deep within a stocking, there was a little pony toy
>It was a quite marvelous pony toy, and it had beautifully finished features and was very show accurate, and it easily stood out as the best of anything in the stocking
>And when the little girl found it inside, it was the best gift of all Christmas for about two hours, but then it came time to unwrap other gifts, and the pony was quickly forgotten amid all the wrapping paper and other toys, and carelessly tossed by a caretaker into the little girl's room later that day.
>While the pony was quite splendid for a pony toy, she was not at home in the girl's room, and she was looked down upon by other toys who had more care put into their construction
>She grew sad and distant, but there was one toy that would politely keep her company
>An ancient, torn up rabbit doll, now missing eyes, an ear, and tail, with faded fur, which would preach philosophy.
>The doll told the pony that being excluded didn't matter: that the only thing that mattered was being Real or not real.
>The idea of Real fascinated the pony, who asked what made one Real.
>"When you are loved so much that you do not care what has become of you, that when your eyes fall out and your tail is gone, you are still happy, you will know you are Real. You might be called names by those who don't understand, but it won't matter, because you will be Real."
>The pony asked, though immediately regretted for the intrusiveness, if the rabbit was Real, who replied, "I was made Real by the little girl's mother, but that was long ago. Of course, once you are made Real, you cannot be made unreal. Real is forever."
>The pony began to obsess over being Real, but no matter how many times the little girl would scan her room and find the pony, she would find that she was never picked to be played with, or even just set up and admired. She would not become Real. |
