The pain will pass by MrNameless

>You once believed you were going to be a dancer.
>When you were little it's all you could think about. You knew it was your life's calling.
>You knew.
>Unfortunately, you were never a graceful filly. You were just so clumsy and awkward. Your body never moved like you wanted.
>And your parents were always quick to remind you of it.
>So you trained yourself to get better. Practicing daily, studying technique, giving your all, you would never ever give up hope.
>After all, you knew.
>Days turned to months turned to years.
>And that clumsy filly began to grow into a clumsy mare.
>Even if your parents didn't believe in you, you still held fast to your hope.
>Or so you kept telling yourself.
>But slowly their words began to take hold.
>And little by little that beautiful lie began to erode.
>After all, they're only speaking the truth.
>If you weren't so incompetent you could have kept your balance during the second scene.
>If you weren't so stupid, you would have gotten your cutie mark already.
>If you weren't so worthless, you could have been a dancer...
>To your parents benefit they put up with you a lot longer than you deserved.
>It isn't a surprise when you find your things have been dumped into a cardboard box and left out the lawn.
>There's no note, but the message is clear.
>They harbored your failure as long as they could stand.
>You are no longer welcome with them.
>With nowhere to go and no money, you drag the box to an alley and hide inside.
>You try to be strong, but the dark is scary.
>And you soon find yourself back on their front porch crying to be let inside.
>After all they're still your parents.
>They still love you.
>They still care.
>But nopony comes.
>And the night sounds chase you back to the safest place you know.
>Your box.
>The first night was hard. But when you got through it, you thought the worst was over.
>Then hunger set in.
>Curling into a tight ball, you wish the world away.
>One by one, you watch as your precious possessions get sold for bare bottom prices.
>Money is such an evil thing. Why can't things just be free?
>Everypony should be allowed food and water and shelter for free.
>You curse the bits in your hand as you exchange them for precious nourishment.
>Hungrily, you devour the small meal.
>This was paid for with your dancing shoes.
>You tried so hard not to part with them, but the hunger was too much.
>The hunger is always too much.
>Before you know it, you've consumed the whole thing and are licking the remains off your hooves.
>After you thoroughly made you've gotten every last morsel, you stare at your empty hooves.
>There's nothing left.
>That was it. You have no way to earn money now.
>The gnawing desire for food will return very shortly and you will have no way to sate it.
>The thought is enough to bring tears to your eyes.
>What will you do?
>Nopony will hire you.
>You have no talent. And you're living on the street.
>Begging gets you nothing.
>For such proactive society, ponies sure don't care about the downtrodden.
>Walking back to your box, you curl up and do the only the thing you can.
>You wait for somepony to come save you.
>They don't.
>They never do.
>When the pain gets to be too much, you try your hand at begging again.
>Nopony helps you.
>Please. Just one or two bits.
>No.
>Please. I'm so hungry.
>I can't spare it.
>Please. Please. I'll do anything.
>Anything?
>Anything.
>Alright.
>The stranger tosses you twenty bits.
>He just fed you for a week.
>You hug his leg and cry.
>But the euphoria dies down quick as you find what "anything" actually means.
>You're reluctant at first, but when he moves to take back the bits, you cave.
>You so badly want those bits.
>Anything hurts...
>But not as bad as the hunger. And he says this pain will pass.
>He's right. It does.
>Eventually. Long after he's gone and your stomach is full, you cry yourself to sleep.
>And while you're asleep, there is no pain.