FSE

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January 7th, 1135

Fuck I hope this is legible. The pain in my fingers is getting worse, and I had to change how I hold the pen.

It's been a few days and things aren't going great. It's still cloudy, the sea's choppy, and it's still cold as balls. Food and water in the lifeboat are starting to run low. I'm gonna try to ration it as much as I can. Should stretch it out a few more days. Still, I'm craving meat real bad, and whatever the dweebs who made these emergency biscuits put in them isn't cutting it for me.

Today I thought I caught a break. There was a shark circling the boat. Didn't have any buddies with it. I had a wood plank with a jagged edge I thought I could use as a spear. It didn't work like I wanted it to, and my grip is already weak from this damn frostbite. Don't think I even punctured that fucker's hide before it swam away. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if there even was a shark.

Still no idea where I am. The clouds are keeping the stars hidden, so I don't even know which way is north. Between the swells, it feels like the boat's being carried in a current of some sort in one direction. Wherever this tub is taking me, it better be to land or seaponies. Would really like to have a compass right now.

Who am I kidding? I'm not cut out for this survival thing. Even if I was, I don't have the stuff I need to get to safety. Every day I get weaker. This morning my beak cracked up one side as I bit into a staler than usual biscuit. In case you're wondering, that fucking hurt.

Dash, if you're reading this, I'm sorry that I left Ponyville the way I did, and I'm sorry for how I treated your friends. Shit, I'm sorry for everything.

When I left Baltimare, I was still pissed at you. Stewing about how lame you'd become around your pony friends. But I've been doing a lot of thinking out here alone in the cold. Heh, not much else you can do out in the middle of the ocean.

Truth is, I lost sight of what's important between us. Got too focused on how "cool" we are. I mean don't get me wrong, I'm still cool as fuck. You are too, Dash, and even if your friends aren't as cool, that doesn't change you.

But the important thing is I remembered back in Junior Speedsters flight camp. I don't usually like to think about my fledgling days. I was so scared and insecure! You were the bright spot of my time there. I'd never met someone so confident, and you raised me up to your level.

That's what I lost sight of. You saw someone anycreature else would have dismissed as lame and brought the coolness out in me. Then I repaid your loyalty to me by calling you lame in front of the whole town.

At some point over the years, I stopped seeing you as your own pony and more as an idol of coolness I was using to prop up my own self-esteem. And as a result I got possessive of you. So when I saw the ponies you usually hang out with, I got jealous. Like they were stealing my shit. And the more I think about that, the more fucked up it is.

Hey Dash, if you're still reading, please tell that pink pony friend of yours and the quiet yellow one I'm sorry. I took my jealousy and paranoia out on them, and they did nothing to deserve it. Well, almost. That joy buzzer hurt like a bitch!

The yellow one, Butterfly was it? She's a lot like how I was when I first met you, just with a bigger heart. But I know with a friend as awesome as you, she's gonna be almost as cool as me one day.

Figures I was too proud to ever apologize, and now it's too late to do in person. All I can do is pour my stupid heart out into this journal with no guarantees it ever reaches the pony I want it to.

Grandpa Gruff sometimes told stories from his navy days about what happened to griffons who drank seawater. Fuck it, if I run out of bottled water and there's still no land in sight, I might just do it. It'd kill me faster than dehydration.

-Gilda