Nopony knows my name. But I know everypony else's. I know the names of everypony I meet, or see, or hear walking past my window at night. I know their desires, their joys, what makes them happy. And I know the pains they suffer, the shadows they hide behind, their burdens. And I feel them all keenly.
I remember not my beginning, I foresee not my end. I exist, yes, but don't live. I am real, undeniably, but unnoticeable. In appearance I am non-descript, in personality even more so. Or so ponies assume. They don't know that I see it all.
I have travelled the world, in my time. I've seen Zebrica, Saddle Arabia, Yakyakistan, the Crystal Empire, and so many other lands. But always I return home, to where I have lived out my solitary days, alone with my memories, and where I shall go on doing so. I always come back to Equestria.
On the train to Canterlot, I now am. The carriage is not crowded, but provides much food for thought. The mild, meek yellow pegasus in the corner, afraid of her own shadow. She wishes the train would empty, be hers alone. Only the rabbit, hidden somewhere out of sight but nonetheless nearby, provides her moral support. She fears to lose this companion, the only one who ever truly understood her. And she knows she must, someday. That is her sorrow.
I see the business-stallion, two rows in front. His outwardly calm exterior masks a whirlpool of emotion. But his fears are nought but figments of his own imagination; what use, really, are stocks and shares, after all? Down one day, up the next. A few thousand bits either way, life or death to a less fortunate pony, means little to him. I see the surpressed feelings of remorse over the breakdown of his marriage. It was not his fault, surely? But I know it was.
The pale, drawn complexion of a stunted orange pegasus filly, endless attempts at hiding the torment of her past exhausting her completely. Whither she is going I do not know. Why she is going there, a mystery. But the abusive father leaves tell-tale marks on a young foal's mind, and I see her sorrow. She lives for the friendship and charity of others, and worries lest they ever learn of the shame of her origins, and despise her for it.
A surprise is in store for me, as my gaze shifts to the unicorn by the doorway. Not a unicorn, but a changeling in disguise. Anxiously checking and rechecking his cover, always alert for the first signs of pursuit. What he runs from, I cannot say. But run he must. His only hope is the embassy in Canterlot, and woe betide him should his concentration falter even for a moment.
I see the large, red earthpony stallion watching, unseeing, the ever-changing scenery through the grimy window. What happened last night is preying on his mind, and he worries over the outcome. Was he seen? Was he followed? What if they know where he lives! Yes, there is only one way. To disappear in the morning, like the nightmares of a newborn babe. The law cannot follow him for ever. Can it?
Sitting on the other side of the carriage from me is a beautiful white unicorn. Evidently wealthy and in excellent health, surely she should have nothing to fear? But her eyes betray her, glancing lovingly but anxiously down at the unborn illegitimacy that must eventually be her doom. Whose is it, I wonder? Alas, she does not know. Her reputation, ever important to the fashionista, awaits ruin. And she's found herself in this situation before...
Opposite the expectant unicorn rests a once-enchanting, now aged, cyan pegaus mare, eyes closed in fitful repose. Her dreams are full of upset, of a mother's love wasted upon one who cares for it not. She's tried her best for so many years, but once again had her efforts at reconciliation thrown back in her face. She lives for the day she'll finally be forgiven by her wayward daughter, but knows she hasn't long for this world.
The train slows, stops. Several passengers complete their journeys but many more embark upon theirs, to the yellow pegasus's obvious chagrin. She shuffles herself further into the corner and turns away, hiding behind a flowing pink mane. Why so afraid? A friend of hers has boarded the carriage, is looking for somewhere to sit. Her efforts to remain hidden pay off, however, as the pale pink earthpony mare slumps down in a different bay, leaving both alone with their thoughts.
Perhaps it is just as well. The pink pony sighs softly, tragic news weighing heavily upon her. A vulnerable family, a violent windstorm – and now alone for ever, till her turn on the merry-go-round of death arrives. Despairing, I feel her resolve shatter into tiny pieces, as the house of her loved ones had. Her mind is made up. No more will she fight her own mind. She has given in, giving way to the welcoming abyss of distraught insanity.
Only one inhabitant of the carriage appears carefree, to be at peace with the whole world and everypony in it. A grey, blonde-maned pegasus mare, one eye staring unseeingly at me, the other silently laughing at a private joke. Behind the playful façade, however, she is only too well aware of her own inadequacies, of the looks unfeeling ponies give her. She knows she stands out. But she loves, and is loved, by a daughter who does her credit. She is rightfully a proud parent. And a lonely one.
I see them all. I know the names of everypony here. I know their desires, their joys, what makes them happy. I know the pains they suffer, the shadows they hide behind, their burdens. I feel them all keenly. And as I do so, I learn a little more about this world in which we all must live. And I find myself yearning to be free of it.
As I watch each of these ponies, one by one, they find their gaze drawn irresistibly towards me. Just for a moment, they hear my thoughts, my desires, my burdens. But they hear without listening. The moment passes, the spell is broken. They go on considering themselves, without a second glance at the pony in the corner. Nopony sees me. But I see them all.
I don't see you, dear reader, however. You are cloaked behind the veil of Time, inhabiting a Past or Future in which I can play no part. But maybe we shall meet, one day. Or maybe we have already met. You won't have realised who I was, for nopony ever has and nopony ever shall. I am a nobody, nothing at all of no interest not to no-one, a negative anomaly in Space and Time and Reason. My cutiemark, nought over infinity, highlights both my talent and my curse. I am infinite, seeing all. I am infinitesimal, seen by none.
And I am always, always alone.
Author's Note
I've often wondered what goes on behind the face we show to the world. Maybe it's best not to know. 
