You are really upset that you killed those sweet childish clones. No, don’t pretend you aren’t. They could’ve been made productive members of society just like the original Pinkie. Would that have been so hard, you wonder? You wonder this to yourself while a tear rolls down your stupid mulberry cheek. You turn away so that no one can see you cry, but you let out a muffled sob and everyone can tell how sad you are.

“Hey. Voice in my head.“

Yes?

“Shut up.“

No way! Then who would describe what you’re thinking and feeling?

“Nopony. I can think my own thoughts just fine.”