Since the discussion with my parents, I've not seen hide nor hair of them. Then again, after telling me to hurry up and unfuck myself, there isn't anything else for them to say to me, not that I really have anything to say to them either. That whole unfuck yourself or don’t come home thing only reaffirms that they want me out of their house.

As tired as I may be, I’m kind of afraid to fall asleep. Sure, I was asleep for most of the day, but then again, can what I experienced be called rest? I'm leaning towards no. Seriously, was that a dream, or some sort of vision quest? Fuckin' crazy: that's what it is. There's no other explanation that I presently accept.

To top it all off, the Lyra in my head is dead silent and has been since I woke up. I’m not particularly put off by the silence—if anything, I welcome being able to bask in my thoughts in silence—but taking that... vision and putting it into situational context, I can’t help but feel a little anxious. It’s strange, I know, but I kind of feel guilty about it.

Think about it. I’ve been suffering from brain overwrite as that unicorn biomagical mechanism slowly tries to restore Lyra from a back-up. Would it not make sense for my situation to take on that sort of form inside my dreams? What if that pentagonal room is symbolic of my—Lyra’s—head, and that corridor wasn’t an escape into consciousness, but actually her horn? Does that mean that I unconsciously went on the offensive and brutally lashed out at Lyra’s memory imprint?

The more my mind travels down that avenue of thought, the more guilty I begin to feel. When I assess it that way and take into account the absence of the Lyra inside my head, it’s almost as if I murdered her. That’s kind of a horrifying way to interpret it, but considering the whole dream thing, you’ll have to excuse me for traversing down morbid mental corridors.

A pip from Skype’s IM feature distracts me any further from my dark ruminations. As I pull up Skype, I notice a message from my best friend back in high school. A pang of disappointment fills my stomach. At any other time, I’d have loved to talk to him, but with the last two days under my cap, it’s almost the last thing I want to do. I mean, he probably would have been fine with the whole gender bender thing—Lord knows he’s heard enough about my desires to be of the opposite sex—but he’s never much cared for the Friendship is Magic fandom.

Jericho: Hey man, are you there?

Well, yeah, of course I’m here; I’m just trying to figure out whether or not that I want to break it to you lightly, flat-out lie to you, or just go right out and tell him the truth. I mean, this is some pretty crazy shit man. Considering the stakes are already high, what’s the worst that can happen? He disbelieves and gets pissed at me, and we either never speak again because some bullshit happens in Equestria, or he’ll get over it when I get back.

Slowly, I type out my response using the pencil.

Soren: Yeah. I’m here... Sorta.

Jericho: What’s that supposed to mean, ya fuckin’ weirdo?

I pause, contemplating how best to continue. I glance at the web-cam mounted on the top of the monitor—something else I salvaged from my desktop—and decide that seeing is believing.

Soren: Shit’s been pretty crazy lately. My desktop kind of blew up, and I’m not in a condition conducive to typing.

Jericho: Ouch. Are you okay man? I mean, you can’t be completely, if your computer blew up and you aren’t in condition for typing, but you’re alive, right?

Soren: Okay-ish.

Jericho: Ah. Want me to call?

Soren: Yeah... That’s probably for the best. But listen... When I said shit’s been crazy... You’ll find out soon enough. Just... Don’t flip the fuck out.

Jericho: Okay. I promise not to flip the fuck out.

A moment later, I accept the call. Without saying anything, I drag the cursor through the menus, and enable the video. Soon after, he enables his own video stream and I’m looking straight at his bespectacled face. The sight of my friend is a sight for sore eyes in this moment of great loneliness.

“Soren? I can’t see anything on your web-cam. It’s too dark wherever you are...” Jericho said with his usual cocky grin. “... and for fuck sake when are you going to stop forgetting to turn on your microphone, you mook?”

Slamming my hoof into my face, I quickly reach out with magic and flick on the lights. There’s a momentary delay as my own web-cam transitions from darkness, and then I’m there on the screen, frowning in all my unicorn glory. I can already see the confusion working over his face.

“Ha ha, man. Get that fuckin’ pony doll out of my face.” His face finally settles on an unimpressed frown. “I’ve told you, I don’t go for that shit.”

“It’s not a doll,” I reply softly. “It’s me... I’m Soren.”

“Cut the bullshit man. That’s some nice CG and filters, and a great voice changer,” he groans, palming his face. “... but don’t give me this nonsense after giving me the impression you had some serious injury.”

“Jericho,” I say firmly but quietly, keeping in mind that the family has gone upstairs to bed already. “This isn’t a fucking joke. I know this sounds crazy, but the ponies are real!”

“Nope. Not listening to this.” He shuts off his web-cam. “Listen. I put up with a lot of your crazy shit, but this pony insanity is to much. Until you can drop this bullshit obsession, don’t call me. Don’t message me unless you’re ready to admit you’re over the ponies.”

A second later, the call ends, quickly followed by him appearing offline. I know him better than to expect him to want to talk for a while, but there’s no way he’ll remain pissed for too long. Still, I’m feeling kind of hurt, and the more I think about how much his friendship means to me, the more I realize that I just might never see or hear from him again. I still remember how hard it was moving away from the closest thing to a brother I ever had. That was just a goodbye; this might just be goodbye forever, and I pissed all over it by fucking up.

Soren: Listen... I’m going to be going away for a while, but there’s a fair chance that I might not be coming back... at all. I know I made things awkward with the whole being a pony thing, and I’m sorry. I suppose I was wrong in pushing it on you the way I did. It’s just... You know how lonely I’ve been since the move. Since this whole crazy thing went down, I just wanted someone I could talk to about it. So in case I don’t make it back, I just wanted to say goodbye, bro. I love you, man.

Submitting the message, I quickly quit out of Skype. I know he’s not likely to respond right away, but even still... I’ve also lost the desire to talk to him. There’s something about being abandoned by a friend in your moment of need—being isolated beyond what I’ve ever been is totally a moment of need—that just puts you off talking. That’s the case with me anyway.

At the same time, I don’t particularly feel like drowning myself in the overwhelming sea of ‘Things-I-didn’t-need-to-know-but-found-out-anyway’—also known as the Internet. What then, does a person afraid to sleep do to distract themselves when they can’t—for obvious reasons—play video games, have no interest in television, and their mind is too frayed for simple reading?

I suppose I could always make a video and submit it to Youtube and Equestria Daily. That would certainly leave a lasting mark on the Friendship is Magic fandom, even if people think it’s fake. Plus, it would give me something non-destructive to do. While I may not have actively been thinking it, fire is always a considered option when I’m bored. We have a fire pit for a reason, after all.

If I’m going to go ahead with the video, though, I’m going to have to make sure I have things planned out. There are things that need to be said or explained, like who I am and why I’d be making the video. More than that though, I need the fucking camera... Now where did that thing get to?

On the screen, an image of my couch appears. “So, you’re probably wondering, if this video is called ‘How My Little Pony: FiM Ruined my Life’, why am I staring at a couch?” My own voice pours into my ears through my headset. “Well, I’ll get to that in due time. Now, before I show my face, you need to know who I am and what I was.

“The name is Seven Fates. Obviously It isn’t my real name. My name’s Soren. That’s right, I am—or was—a guy.” My soft sigh is barely picked up offscreen. “I’m a 21 year old hobbyist writer from Canada. Among the FiM community, I’m known to some for my fairly successful fan-fiction ‘Displaced’—link in description—on FiMFiction, Equestria Daily, and deviantART.

“I’m a nobody really.” Yup. I just said that in a video for all to see. “I’m not particularly successful in life—I’m literally unemployable—and my only redeeming quality is my writing. I won’t bore you with the details of how I became a Brony, or try to push my work on you. That’s not the purpose of this video.

“By this point you’re probably wondering why I sound like a girl, and what any of this has to do with anything.” An aquamarine unicorn pony—that’s me!—wanders into view, and quickly scrambles up onto the couch. She looks directly into the camera before sighing and hiding her face behind a hoof. “This is what you all are watching this video for. You get to hear how I became a pony, and how I’m slowly suffering personality death as a result of it.

“Some of the fandom holds the belief that the ‘background pony’—” The me on the screen mimics the finger-quotes as best she can. “Lyra Heartstrings is obsessed with humans and hands. As one might guess by my appearance, I’ve had contact with Lyra. Wanted to make a week long place swap, she said. Had a spell from the Starswirl the Bearded wing of the Canterlot Archives, she said.

“She botched the spell, blew up my desktop, and only our bodies swapped places.” The me on screen places her hoof against her face once again. “I’m like this for a week, but she didn’t count on me being inept at walking on all fours. I fell down the stairs like Berry Punch on an afternoon bender, and activated some unicorn biomagical memory backup. Now I’m slowly being overwritten by Lyra.

“I’ve fought it, for the most part, but not without my share of troubles. Today I nearly drowned, and only the quick thinking of a Lyra inside my head—that’s right, fighting the memory overwrite caused a sapient personality to come to life inside my head, I don’t know how that works—forced the water out of my lungs.” There’s an awkward smile on my face. It says anything but ‘I’m coping very well.’ “Then, in some kind of traumatic episode a while later, I think I murdered that Lyra personality.”

The pony on the screen stops, levitating a glass of water from off-screen and taking a drink. Setting the glass down, she takes some steadying breaths before looking back at the camera. “Still... There’s nothing in this world that can help me. Lyra’s got the best pony in all of Equestria looking for a way to help me. What’s more, I’ll be going there soon.” With a weak smile, she says, “Too bad I probably won’t get to enjoy it. Seven Fates signing out.”

That’s that then. My video is on Youtube—ratings disabled—and Sethisto will have a very interesting email in his inbox. With the video complete, there’s nothing else for me to do tonight. I tentatively check my email one last time, but there’s nothing. What to do now?

Well, I’m dead tired, and I’ve always wanted to fall asleep looking up at the stars just once, and this might be my last opportunity to do so. With a grunt, I ease myself off of the couch, shutting the laptop, and begin trotting towards the patio door, grabbing a pillow and blanket from the couch as an afterthought.

As I step out onto the patio, I take in the late night air. Despite the lateness in the year, it’s surprisingly warm tonight. Then again, I also have a coat of fur that I didn’t have before. My first reaction is to set up shop here on the patio, but the dogs would maul me the moment they get let out in the morning. No, there’s a much better place for that. The roof of the shed accessible from the ladder pool deck.

It goes without saying that climbing ladders as a pony is not at all simple, but the view is definitely worth it. I have a much clearer view of the sky on this roof, and I don’t at all regret coming up here. With the lack of cloud cover and the moon full and high, it truly is a beautiful night. I can even see Ursa Major and Orion the Hunter.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Lyra?”

Author's Notes:

Re-edited 11 July 2017