It's green.

I know what green is. I thought I knew what green was. How many times now that people have said it, that everypony thinks you do, that you're the expert and everypony comes to you with questions. But no, I'm looking at it, and I don't know. What is this place filled with so many wonders . . . I don't hear it anymore, wonders I remember so well and should still be that way. This is as wondrous as anything else. It is a wonder.

Grass is what you step on, tickling the frogs sometimes. But it's a maze to them, stalks one hundred feet tall, dense forest, winding around the endless barriers and finding little patches where it hasn't grown, well-trodden patches, brown and not as confusing. Do they help them navigate, I wonder? They're landmarks, maybe, if they remember, or else it's playing an endless game of hot and cold. You're almost there, closer, closer, no—different path. Pheromone trail, I think I know this one. How much do you use it? There's so many competing smells here. Bakery is strong now, it came out fresh. Shouldn't get them for the birds though, feed is nutritious and millet works for—myself? I can make something for the rest of the menagerie, and they like sprouted grain more.

What are you—No! Look!

Ants. Ants. Good ants. Look. The half-finished sandwich that somepony dropped on the dirt. I don't think it's littering is some other little critters can make use of it, and they are. Small little crumbs, one at a time, transporting, a train that goes in both directions. They lift a lot for their weight. How good are they at working tirelessly to bring food back to their home, tirelessly.

No, I don't, I can't. I don't want to, it's all

Hide!

Mane, mane! It will hurt you. Somepony wants you. Somepony wants you. Somepony

What is . . . No, no, no, this is Ponyville. Breathe. Yes it was loud and scary and not very nice, but nopony hurts you here. She wants you to say something back, whatever she said. See, she's asking if you're okay. Ponies are nice here.

I'm fine. I was just . . . just what, looking at a tiny triangle of dirt in the middle of the market? She already thinks you're weird—she's looking at you! Dropped something! Rarity has earrings, but what can—the rock? Shiny rock! I'm not Maud, but please . . . thank you.

. . . Gone. Stupid, stupid Fluttershy. Why? As if you didn't have enough to be ashamed about. Friends with animals and friends with rocks. Move. Do something. Ponies are looking. Ponies will ask questions, and I'm blocking the way, I know I am, I know I am. Move. Move. He's glaring at you, you're too weird. They're all glaring, don't look.

I just messed up so badly. Don't be a nuisance, don't bother anypony, don't bother anypony, you already did bad enough. No, no, don't look, ponies know, they know, they notice when you're upset. Away, away. Ponies are noticing, the market is too many ponies.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Corner, not so busy. They already think you're silly, now don't make them think you're a bother too. Ponyville is nice, but it's not nice to bothers. Why did I have to . . . Why did I have to just stop and look and annoy everypony around you?

I know, I know, I want to think. But other ponies won't understand. You don't need more ponies to laugh at you.

Stop. Breathe.

You understand a little, you know how it feels, you know how many times it's happened before. What you do means you see it more times than almost anypony—except your best friends. They were with you, but I'm sure they don't have these problems. They're stronger than I am, and they're not worried and fretting about what happens after. And I didn't either for a little bit. I wasn't scared about it.

This is different. I don't know why. It could have happened so many times. Why am I scared now?

Tirek was terrifying. Discord was too for at least a little bit. Nightmare Moon. The Storm King. Queen Chrysalis, or maybe former, I don't know what she's queen of now. King Sombra. Discord again. And then I can't even remember how many

No!

You just can't even . . . This is just awful, even when it's world-changing, even when it's world-ending, even when you were right there, it could probably all go by and you would have no idea. And then what? then what will you have? at the end of the day when it's all gone and even things as big as this don't matter and are long gone! Where is everything else—there is no everything else! Of course it's not enough! These are the biggest things you've ever done and you can't remember!? You're awful!

And then and then what about everything else, everything else you missed? The animals you've never seen or heard? their habits that you've never learned? the friends you haven't met? those things that you haven't even had the chance to see? Ponyville is beautiful and you've only ever gotten to know your tiny little corner of it. It's all gone and you can't remember any of it anyway. The world is out there and I'm not ready and I don't remember anything! I feel sick. I'm not ready, I'm not ready, I'm not ready, I'm not r

No! No, don't do this, not here, not now. Breathe! Please breathe. You're panicking again, you're crying again, ponies will stare at you again. Don't do this, not here, not now. Ponies are already staring. Why and what I'm scared of. Go somewhere quiet, sit, where they can't—they won't—hear you. You're disturbing everypony, you're making everypony worried about you and your worthless self.

Go. The park, not the street. It's right here. Go, go. Other ponies are distracted or have other things to do. Go away. The wounded wolf who refuses to let me help and runs off. And never comes back. Head down. Sit.

Breathe. The lump in your neck is getting bigger. I want to vomit. Do something you like, look at the birds, the nice and flying ones. I can't see, it's all blurry—wipe your eyes and look at the birds, the nice and flying ones, brown and blue and green and wipe your eyes, and the birds you still can't see in the trees because they hide so well, and you can't even see how fast they flap. It's my tree, they say, and they only let their friends in, reminding everybirdy that it's my tree, singing, singing, sing singing. They live like today is all that matters.

Today is all that matters. The lump is going away.

It's just so exhausting . . .

I don't want to fall like that. But I . . . But it's so important. I never did, and it's so stupid why I didn't. I need to make up. And I can't really think about it—ponies weren't meant for that.

Oh that's—Hello, Firth, it's nice of you to come see—no, it's nice to see you. Nothing, nothing. I know, that's nice of you. I know a lot about him and his species. But not everything, not enough. What about the ants? You don't know enough about them either. There's still so much more, in a tiny triangle of dirt in the middle of the market. They show you what more there is to know, every little thing you can't understand even with your apparent expertise.

Every moment you missed. Every memory you didn't make. I want them back. I'm trying to make up for so much lost time.

What is this place filled with so many wonders? Casting it's spell . . . of course you remember that. How could I forget? I spent a whole afternoon down there until the flight instructors noticed I was missing and Cloudsdale Police came down to look for me. That was an afternoon I spent among the birds and squirrels and woodland creatures. Trying to understand what they were all saying to me, telling them to go one at a time even though they wouldn't listen, learning what it meant when the birdies whistled to me, the sharp pricks on my pastern that scared me until I got used to their claws, tails tickle. Small discomfort to lay on something that doesn't squish even a little, forelegs got sore. Feeling conflicted when I saw pegasi in uniform coming to get me. And I didn't know what they meant, but I knew in my heart the birds were saying goodbye when the police were taking me back. Even the evening I spent more quiet than usual because I couldn't stop thinking about them, my parents asking me questions about how I was, how I felt, longing to return.

It's all there.

I know more than I ever did back then, but that's the only one whose picture is so clear. I want sit in that meadow again, I want to be a little uncomfortable, I want to learn what it means to be surrounded by wonders, I want to remember everything little thing. It's a landmark and it tells me how I grew and what I experienced.

It's all gone.

Firth is still here, the pricks on my shoulder don't bother me anymore. I can sit on the dirt, move slowly so I don't startle him, invite the ground critters. Hi, Cornicus. Of course I remember you. Yes, I know, it's good that your dad is recovering nicely. Oh no, it was nothing, please. You're sweet too. Yes, I know. The pricks don't bother me anymore, smiling is hard. Ow, the ear, but don't scold him, it's outside and he needs to call. Fold them if he needs to shout again. Shuffle around my hindlegs, but it doesn't feel bad, the dirt is soft, and I don't like it. It's the same, probably more uncomfortable, though, I've just spent too long doing it.

They're nice, it's nice. But it's too normal, it's the things I do every day, I want to see a wonder. I barely remember the maze, what path they took through it, how much each of them moved. It's a wonder that they found their way through, something intelligent and worthy. It disappears, this disappears. In a week, what will I remember here? who will I have been speaking with? what time did I spend doing nothing I remember? They won't exist, this moment won't exist.

A week ago, I was doing something. It's . . . it's hard. A month from now it will be harder, and later on it won't be there, no matter how special it might have been. It's lost, it never existed, I never lived it, and I'm a month older with nothing to say. I skipped it. I never lived.

Oh, you're—Why am I upset? Oh, why didn't I hide it better—it's not nice to just throw it on others. Stupid, that's why you went here to get away. Oh, you . . . you wouldn't understand. I wouldn't tell them that, it's not worth worrying them about what I'm worried about, that's not nice. Please, it's not worth worrying yourself about; it's too complicated. What are—no, stop please, oh goodness, I'm not patronizing you, it's just that I know

Oh, you. They move so quickly. Crunch of some dead leaves and now I can't find them. That I don't know anything about. Why did you have to say that to them? Stupid, you were patronizing them, now they won't talk anymore. Push away the ponies and now the animals push you away, so embarrassing. Upset, ashamed. You need to come back tomorrow and apologize for being so rude.

But then . . . in a month this won't exist. So it doesn't matter anyway.

No, I can't, I still feel sorry. I need to, it's so rude if I don't. But I know when I don't remember, it really doesn't matter. Firth and Cornicus don't matter? No no no and that's just worse when I don't remember and they'll never forgive me

Breathe. You . . . you care for them. Leave it there, come back tomorrow, don't mix others into this. This is your problem.

Get up. It's almost dusk. I've been wandering for so long, this is bad. I should be getting

I don't want to! No, no, I don't want to. It's so normal there, I know it. I left Angel with instructions at home, and he's very cranky about it, why can't I just do it myself? Some of them are wondering where I went. I just knew I would lose myself in caring for the animals and lose the day to everything else. It's too normal, that's where every day dies. It's rude and selfish, and I'm coming back soon. Just . . . not now. The day isn't dying yet.

The usual places. Twilight's castle over there, the sun just behind it, half shining through some of the crystal. It's really bright and really pretty. Really pretty. The colors of the castle are kind of too cold for me but the sun makes it shine and sparkle. It was always here and you didn't see this either. Why? Something else you almost missed and might still miss in a week.

Get up, go.

Why? I don't know. It's a friend's home maybe, the closest one right now. Just a left after this block. Spend some time in the pretty place while you still can. Nopony is mean to you. Wander around and think, and friends might let me think, they're just easier to be around.

Tell her? Tell any of them? They might just laugh at me for worrying about something so silly and selfish. And even explaining it would take a long time, it's so confusing. When did this come up, why are you thinking this, what are you talking about, they'll say. No. And I'm still confused, that's why I'm thinking. I don't want them to ask, I want quiet.

Grand, and up the stairs. Knock. The door isn't locked, she never locks it, but it's rude to come in without.

The door is so big when it opens, I'm still intimidated. Starlight? Where's Twilight? That's . . . of course she would be. Sounds like fun? She's inviting me. The door is still big when it closes. What's the matter? It's . . . complicated. I just want to be somewhere safe and quiet. I guess. Thank you.

Nothing going on, nopony here. It's so quiet, not like the quiet of critters at rest, the quiet of . . . The foyer is just too big for one or two ponies, it's too grand for somepony like me. It's even wrong when we're all here. Why am I here? Like the first day we ever set hoof in here, except I remembered that one.

Intimidating and scary just like today, and even more because it wasn't furnished. It didn't feel like her home, it felt alien. Discovering ballroom after conference room, and throne room and keep that didn't belong to anypony. Overwhelming. It hasn't quite left. Twilight made this her home—with our help. She says this is our home too—places set aside for us if we want to stay for a little bit. I don't want to, I need to get home by tonight or Angel will be very angry. Starlight has gone back to reading spell books. What am I supposed to do?

Surely she's studying up for a grand spell that we'll need. That she'll need to save somepony, everypony, like so many times before, like Twilight did. Change somepony's, everypony's life. That's important. That's life, that's something that will exist. That's something she'll remember.

Twilight's off in Griffonia. Doing something important. Something that will exist. Something she'll remember.

I'm not. At home, in Ponyville, reminiscing about memories and what does and doesn't exist. They're doing important things, making moments. But I tried today. Ants and Firth and Cornicus, and I didn't, I know I didn't . . . and did too much like normal, right? Reminiscing about the first time you came to Ponyville and repeating the same things. A moment only works once.

Is that why? That has to be why.

It's just so scary to go out there though. Everypony might judge you, might shame you. It happens in Ponyville, even, it happened earlier today when I was outside. It happens more in places that aren't as friendly. It's so scary, it's always scary. When the Map tells me, I go, but . . . the little bits, here and there, I don't do many things because I don't like it. Just because it's not lighting something up doesn't mean there's nothing to do. She spends so much time away from Ponyville, I see her less often now. Proactive. That's where things happen, not here. Everything is too normal. Everything I do here is too normal.

Like when we went to Klugetown and almost got sold, almost getting sliced to bits, falling out of Celaeno's airship, playing with the hippogriffs, seeing how mad Queen Novo was, coming back to a different Canterlot, nearly losing . . . please, no, please. I remember that, I remember that, I remember that so much. No, no, no, stop! It didn't happen, it didn't happen, it didn't happen, she's fine, she came back, she came back and won! She's not gone, the clouds weren't closing, she came back!

Breathe. Breathe. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Don't start crying again. Oh you—wipe them before she sees. You know she's looking at you. Get up, get up. Pretend normal. Smile. Stupid, she's probably worried now. Walk, the window. The dusk is nice.

But that's when moments the happen, right? Uncomfortable, scary. You remember those. You learned about an all new scary world, you got lost in a scary castle that showed up in Ponyville, you thought for a little bit that Twilight would never come back. Why wouldn't you remember?

Growth, I'm getting better, I say to myself. Maybe I've gotten better at putting on a brave face? I question myself just as much as I ever did, talk to myself even more. Clearly. Growing and being able to step out and do things other normal ponies do, it happens, I know, and every adventure where I break out of my shell makes it a little easier, but it's so slow. Baby steps. I don't want to wait for slow anymore.

Glowing. The door is glowing, and a little pulse going around the frame. What are . . . her book is on the floor. Starlight? should I ask her? is she practicing something, practicing whatever spell she was looking up? The glowing stops, she turns around, looks at me. Locking the door. Locking the door? Just want to make sure I'm safe.

Huh? I don't need locked door . . . just looking for peace and quiet. Then why did I say that? I shouldn't have said that, now she's worried. Stupid, making other ponies worried about you. Is there somepony after you? Of course not, I just—No! Oh my goodness, no! I'm safe, Starlight, please! Stupid, stupid, she's that worried about you when you won't say anything except that you want to stay inside, you don't even deserve friends like that. You can unlock the door, please. There's nothing out there I'm worried about. I'm just . . . thinking.

About what? Living? remembering things? I don't really want to tell her about it, I don't know if I want to tell anypony. She might just get more worried and confused, and she might tell Twilight and the others and they'd be worried and confused. But I can't lie about it, I'm not good at it and she'll just ask more questions, like right now, or get worried and assume the worst. Then what? she's expecting me to tell her, she's looking at me funny already. Just . . . about the things you've been thinking about, that's the only thing I can say. What parts? I've been thinking about how to be more brave. How to do more scary things. How to be more courageous. How to . . . live better. Is that too much, I think that's too much.

You wouldn't say I haven't been living well, doing good, being kind, saving the world, not brainwashing an entire village to follow your cult . . . but you remember that. It's bad, of course it's bad, of course you wish it didn't happen. Maybe you want to forget, but I think apathy is worse, remembering something and regretting it instead of having nothing at all. Mourning what you didn't see and didn't have the chance to see. It's a different kind of problem. Thank you, but you don't understand.

She's confused, but just tell her if I want to talk about it. I don't know.

She does understand, though, she understands how to live. To live and learn about friendship when it was all new and scary to her, when it changed her way of life, to confront her past when it frightened her. She might know more about it than I do now. Doing something brave, saving the world by herself doing things I wouldn't, no one would.

And Twilight understands, too, whether she's thought about it or not, she knows, I'm sure she knows. She knows how to live. Maybe it comes with being an alicorn, finding moments as she lives forever, being able to remember every one of them as she gets older and older. But she was doing good before her coronation too. I remember that and it isn't even mine. Look at what she's doing now, she's not scared, she never is. She lives so well.

She changes the world. Everypony will remember her, and she'll remember everything. She has enough exciting and incredible things happening every week to fill several ponies' lifetimes. I'm sure she remembers. She has to.

Rarity is beautifying everypony through her beautiful dresses and reaching more every day, Pinkie already knows the stories of everypony in Ponyville, Rainbow Dash is performing for the world and learning techniques every day, Applejack is keeping the town and her enormous family well-fed and making friends with every customer like adopted family. Spike is barely an adolescent and he's still changing the world or helping Twilight do it.

And then there's me, doing nothing, thinking about doing nothing. Is my idea of living really just observing ants on the ground, conversing with woodland creatures and forgetting later? I'm pathetic, I know I am. I want to make more of myself, I want to live, I want to do all of those things that they do and make good on my time. Not like today, not like last week or last year. You're always out doing something. I'm always at home with my animals.

I envy you girls so much. All of you. I'm jealous. And they would never forgive me being jealous.

Maybe the solution is easy, everypony would say it is. I know that's what Twilight or Rarity or Rainbow Dash would say to me. It's what I'm telling myself too: Just do something. Stop smelling the roses and looking at triangles of dirt and do something beautiful or awesome. Or memorable.

And maybe I should.

No.

No! Maybe I will!

Up. Chest up. Stop taking baby steps. You've been doing them for too long, you know you've been doing them for too long. It doesn't get you anywhere fast enough, and everypony and you is frustrated now. Go out there and do a Rainbow Dash. Make good on your time, it's time to be awesome.

Even if it's scary, even if you don't want to do it, even if you get uncomfortable, that's what you remember. Simple animals and taking care of them and bandages isn't enough, I've learned it all. Step out of my comfort zone, go somewhere I don't want to be, and maybe it becomes comfortable, maybe it becomes a memory, and life is how big I can grow.

It's time to live. If my life is going to change, I have to make it change. I have to do something about it. Step, step, be strong, be assertive. I know how much I've missed, but I'm not going to miss anything now. It starts today. Everything I wanted to do, everything I've been putting off because it was too scary to consider, I'm doing now.

And the first thing I do is

go home.

Author's Notes:

Once again, I've posted an explanation of this story here. Be forewarned that it references a very personal and sensitive subject. Do not click through unless you want to read about these.