I glanced at the calender, caught up on the words I was due, and did a few extra, so there.

Then... I realized I was still behind on how Equestrian calenders worked.

An idea came to me. I moused over to the calender. "You are what I think you should be, I think... You're Equestrian magic, soo..." I right clicked it. Yep, an option I hadn't seen before. I switched it from Earth Time to Equestrian time. Pow, there, it showed what day it was and everything.

"Thank you, Twilight." She wasn't there. I was just talking to myself, alone, in my room. That wasn't a new thing. The day revealed... I had class! I wasn't late, but I wanted to be early, I had to move.

I pulled my hooves free of the keyboard and nudged it under my bed where it could wait for me. With an adventurous game tune on my lips, I got what I'd need for that day, leaving the other books behind. That left me fairly unburdened as I trotted from the room.

I hadn't eaten. I just realized that. "I won't die." I huffed, pushing forward towards the school.

I hurried along the garden-lined path towards the crystalline towers of the School of Friendship, eager to make a good first impression arriving early on my inaugural day of classes. The spires almost seemed to shimmer brighter under the golden morning sunlight as I approached.

Checking my schedule one last time, I saw my first seminar for the day was to be "Empathy and Emotions" with Professor Gentle Heart. I wondered idly if that meant we had a literal care bear on staff as I trotted through the ornate archway into the vaulted main hall.

Not that I'd mind a care bear. They'd be adorable, but maybe out of place for Equestria? A little... Less than I was, thinking it over.

Other early bird students milled about, chatting amiably amongst themselves or looking over notes. I felt suddenly self-conscious realizing I hadn't prepared at all not knowing what to expect. A pencil and a notebook would have to suffice. They wouldn't expect more, I hoped.

Glancing around, a kindly older mare with a salt and pepper mane called for everycreature's attention from near the lecture hall entrance. I gravitated that direction along with the rest of the foals and took what I hoped was an inconspicuous seat near the front.

The mare smiled warmly as we settled in. "Good morning everypony! I'm Professor Gentle Heart and so pleased to see you all here bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to explore pony emotions today." A few polite greetings echoed in response.

"Now then, let's start by going over the foundations of sentiment and how our feelings form. Readiness to engage?" A small glow lit Gentle Heart's horn levitating a piece of chalk to begin illustrating concepts across the blackboard.

I diligently took notes, but despite the early hour felt my own sentiments drifting elsewhere. Schoolwork felt trivial set against interpersonal hurdles still lingering outside these comforting walls where judgements stood readier to emerge...

This was on top of the fact that I hated writing. Not the act of making up words. I loved writing. I hated writing. The physical act of writing could jump in a lake and drown. Alas, ponies were not known for using keyboards at school, and I didn't bring mine, and I couldn't use that and also pay attention to the teacher, so--

A light tap at my shoulder interrupted my brooding. I looked up into a pair of vibrant fuschia eyes set in a minty face. My head jerked slightly in surprise. I had to focus - my notes were suffering. Still, making local friends felt important too, however casually such connections sparked.

The mare giggled, resuming her own notes. "She will ask questions of ponies not paying attention," she warned. "Just so you know. Nice to meet you." She was speaking quietly, her notes unbothered by her efforts.

"David." Wait, she hadn't said her names. "You?"

"Grass Hill." She turned her notebook to the next page with a brush of a hoof. "Let's focus."

"We have a new student." Gentle Heart was looking right at me. "Please stand and come to the front, dear. We'd all love to get to know you."

Wow, that... I hadn't been to school for longer than I had been in school. Old feelings surface, but I did stand and hurry to her side. I turned to face the class. I wasn't afraid of a crowd. I didn't know how to make friends with them all in any deep way, but just talking? Easy. "Hello, I'm David. David Silver, but David's fine. It's really nice to be here."

I smiled out at the class, hoping my introduction hadn't come across too stilted. Public speaking would never be my strongest suit, but the curious eyes peering back seemed more intrigued than judgmental.

Professor Gentle Heart gave me an approving pat on the withers. "Excellent! We all know introductions can be intimidating, but you handled it wonderfully." A few friendly murmurs echoed agreement making me relax slightly.

"Now David, would you feel comfortable elaborating a teensy bit on where you're visiting from?" the professor prodded gently. "We always delight hearing perspectives from beyond Equestria's borders."

I shifted awkwardly, the simple request sending my thoughts momentarily scattering. Gathering composure, I focused back on Gentle Heart's kindly face. This was hardly an inquisition.

"Ah well, I guess I should clarify I'm actually attending classes now, not just visiting," I managed. "But before that, I was from...well, the human world originally."

I paused, wondering if that revelation would be met with disbelief or laughter at such an outlandish claim. But the class remained attentively silent, a few eyes widening with interest. Buoyed by the lack of mockery, I pressed on.

"It's been quite an adjustment waking up suddenly a pony one morning out of the blue. But everycreature has been really welcoming so far about the whole thing." I finished with a self-conscious chuckle, rubbing my neck. "So yeah, here I am!"

Gentle Heart smiled warmly. "A visitor from the mythic human realm now embraced as one of us - how marvelous!" A smatter of impressed murmurs rippled through the foals. My cheeks heated a bit at the unexpected praise. She reached over and patted my shoulder gently. "I thought Professor Twilight was pulling our tails with those stories. You look like a pony to me, I confess..."

Oops, I had just said a lot of things maybe I shouldn't have? "You'd have to ask Twilight for the specifics of how that works." With warm cheeks, I returned to my seat as the class continued.

The class was called Empathy and Emotions, and they were going over how to read faces and body language and it was... amazing. Ponies had a lot of expressive points. Not that humans didn't, but ponies had different ones. The lay of ears, the movement of a tail. Even combinations of them spoke of different emotions and meanings, combined with all the words of English to create a dizzying array of potential meanings.

What dictionary of emotions was playing out of me?

Probably not many. I was still the same, mentally, which meant, I figured, I was broadcasting mutely and likely the wrong thing half the time. Becoming a pony didn't suddenly take away my autism. I'd have to learn to work around that. Human or pony... That was why I picked the class.

I couldn't help a rueful smile glancing down at my own neutral posture giving little indication of my racing thoughts. Years conditioned to keep vulnerabilities veiled clearly left me sending flat signals unlikely to inspire companionship's deeper bonds.

But sensing truth through silence proved a talent distinct from emoting oneself for all to easily see. And Celestia knew suppressing outward display came natural as breath by now. I fancied the thought that maybe the ponies would drag me free of my shell. I wouldn't mind... willing victim, right here.

For once social directness stood the cultural norm rather than awkward anomaly. What a hilarious upending of maladapted mores to find acceptance by exposing rather than hiding rare wiring of the mind! I had to chuckle at how perfectly absurd this classroom promised revelations my human therapists never managed to uncover regarding the odd eggs that were autistics. Truly I had found asylum in the most unbelievingly congruous sanctuary of all - chock full of guilelessly friendly equines.

My neighboring student raised her hoof. "Teacher."

"Hm?" Gentle Hearts smiled so kindly. "Did you have a question?"

"Sort of." She points directly at me. "I think I noticed something."

Gentle Hearts puts her hooves together, seated behind her desk. "You've put David on the spot. You can see him tensing." She was giving the rundown of the emotions she could see. "And now he's even more nervous. What did you see about David?"

The student made an embarrassed noise of her own, ears swiveling backwards. She felt bad about calling me out? Good. No... She didn't mean harm. There was no reason to be mad at the ponies. "He's having a hard time, ma'am."

More eyes were on me. They were all looking at me. That wasn't the bad part. A hard time? "It's my first day."

"It is that." Gentle Hearts pushed to her hooves. "But I think Grass Hill is onto something. If you would, see the guidance counselor after class. She may be able to help. Now, as I was saying..." Gentle went right back to her sermon as if nothing had happened.

I blinked in surprise as Gentle Heart seamlessly resumed her lecture without further comment after Grass Hill's blunt observation and referral suggestion. A few foals continued peering my way curiously before likewise reengaging with the lesson.

I breathed a muted sigh of relief at the lack of any rising confrontational air - just acknowledgment then graceful continuation. Clearly accentuating struggles garnered caring identification not stigma in that school.

Still, being so transparently read stirred disquieting vulnerability I had not anticipated facing so immediately. Seeking clinical guidance implied deficiencies needing corrections - and I felt a strange... joy. The ponies were looking at me and seeing. I felt seen. It was rare I could use that saying.

What human therapists too often misspoke as obstacle, equine empathy recast as opportunity waiting patient embrace. With cautious hope buoying nerves, I committed to hear out whatever peer insights this counselor might uncover that I alone could not parse from my distinctive vantage. Insights revealed not through cold analysis, but the gift of stepping into another's frame of reference to help expand their solo lines of sight...the very magic of friendship manifest.

Perhaps even emotional lexicons foreign at first glance might speak cherished wisdom to patient hearts yearning connection across divides only surface-deep. If openly walking Equestria's lands could heal bodily divides, so too might honestly engaging its denizens' care dissolve distorted self-perceptions still clinging to my uneasy transition in ways no medicine could fully mend.

I would listen and carry onward.

The class was over. I folded shut my notepad with its messy scribbles. "Ma'am?" Gentle Heart looked over. "Which way is that counselor?"

"Just that way." She pointed. "Down the hall, third down on the left. Tell them I sent you, and you have a wonderful day. Thank you for coming."

With a direction secured, I turned to head that way. I was going to be diagnosed, or helped? Maybe both? Having a pony mental expert felt extremely silly, but also exciting in good ways. I wanted to meet this pony and talk to them.

Would they understand the workings of a broken human mind? Could they repair it? I felt powerless to guess, but equally ready to find out. The door had writing on its covered glass. Starlight Glimmer.

Right. She had been the counselor before... Why not there?

Author's Note

I have now had more years of life out of school than in it. Welcome back!

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