It’s the Essence

by Elk1

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Human, Sad, Main 6, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1104

What am I doing?

Sometimes I stumble. I shouldn’t feel the way I do, but I do. I live in a pony world, as a human. People dream of this. Everyone here is so joyful, and yet, here I am… sad. Why am I sad? I have been accepted here with open arms, even through some confusion, so I don’t understand why I feel like this? It’s frustrating. Even with the help of Twilight and her friends, it seems like I’m in a hole I can’t climb out of. What has my old world done to me?

Published 2025-02-13 05:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2025-02-13 05:10:03 UTC

Stutter Steps

I wake up.

The sun is shining, birds are chirping outside my window, and the gentle breeze carries the scent of wildflowers. It’s picturesque. Almost too picturesque, like something out of a storybook—which, in a way, it is. I live in a world of pastel-colored ponies, where friendship is magic and the sky itself is painted with the hopes and dreams of those who reside here.

And yet, I feel nothing.

I drag myself out of bed, my limbs heavy with an exhaustion that sleep never seems to fix. I go through the motions—brushing my teeth, washing my face, attempting to tame my perpetually messy hair before giving up entirely. The mirror reflects an unfamiliar face back at me. A human in a pony’s world. No matter how long I’ve lived here, the contrast is stark, like a smear of ink on an otherwise pristine canvas.

Downstairs, my home stands as a testament to the generosity of those around me. Twilight and her friends helped me get settled here in Ponyville. They made sure I had a place to call my own, a stable job, and enough support to ensure I never felt lost. And still, I feel adrift.

I sigh, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head out.

The streets are lively with activity. Ponies greet each other warmly, their eyes bright with excitement for the day ahead. They nod at me in passing, offering cheerful hellos. I return their smiles out of habit, but I know they don’t linger in their thoughts for long.

I step into the familiar warmth of the music shop where I work. The old stallion who owns the place, Sound Check, waves at me with a welcoming grin. He gave me this job not long after I found myself in this world, and I’m grateful for it. It’s familiar, comforting in a way that reminds me of something I can’t quite grasp.

The chime above the door jingles, and I look up to see Vinyl Scratch—or DJ Pon3, as she’s known. She gestures toward a synthesizer in the corner, and I instinctively nod, telling her the price. She slides a bag of bits over the counter, a silent thank you. I watch as she leaves, feeling an odd sense of kinship. Her music has been a refuge on the nights when my mind refuses to be silent. The Lo-Fi album she released has been my companion in the darkest hours. I wonder if she knows the impact she’s had on me. Probably not.

I linger on that thought longer than I should. It’s a pattern I’ve noticed lately—this tendency to drift, to fade into the background.

I used to think being forgettable was a curse, but maybe it’s a blessing.

When I was younger, I hated it. I would watch my peers form close friendships, ones that lasted, while I remained a fleeting thought in their minds. I tried to be louder, more interesting, someone worth keeping around. It never worked. No matter how much effort I put into standing out, I would inevitably fade. When I left a room, conversations carried on without hesitation. When I was absent, nobody noticed.

At some point, I stopped trying. It hurt less that way.

After my shift, I find myself on a bench, watching the world move around me. Ponies come and go, their lives filled with purpose and warmth. The sun shifts in the sky, marking the passage of time, but I remain still.

I wonder if anyone from my old world looked for me after I disappeared. Probably not. I was never the kind of person to leave an impact. Just another face in the crowd, easy to forget. Even Twilight—the pony who promised to be my friend—had to glance at my name tag the other day to remember what it was. She apologized profusely, but it didn’t bother me. I’m used to it.

But is that really true? Does it really not bother me anymore? Or have I just convinced myself that it doesn’t?

I used to fight against the idea of being forgotten. Now, I accept it. But maybe acceptance and comfort aren’t the same thing. Maybe I’m not as fine with it as I claim to be.

I exhale and lean back on the bench, watching the sky darken. As much as I tell myself I don’t care, a small, bitter part of me still longs to be remembered. To be important to someone. To matter.

I get up as the sun dips below the horizon, making my way back home. The house is quiet, almost eerily so. I stare at my reflection again, my tired eyes staring back.

I trip on nothing as I head downstairs. It happens more often than I’d like to admit. My body stumbles, like it’s forgotten how to move properly. Or maybe it remembers something I’ve tried to forget. A shadow of the past flickers in my mind—a towering figure, indistinct but heavy with the weight of something cruel. I force the thought away and pick myself up.

Dinner is simple. A vegetable soup. No meat. I’ve gone fully vegetarian since coming here. Maybe it’s healthier. Maybe it’s just another way of adapting to this world.

I take small victories where I can find them.

I’m healthier now. I remind myself of that. I don’t want to disappear anymore. That used to be my greatest wish, but now? Now I see how senseless it was. That has to mean something, right? That has to be progress.

Something inside me sneers. You think that’s an achievement? You want a medal for existing?

I shake my head and push the voice aside. It’s easier here, in this world, where kindness is abundant and friendship is a tangible thing. It makes me want to be better, even if I don’t always believe I can be.

I finish my soup and rinse the bowl before heading upstairs. I sit at the edge of my bed, staring at my hands.

Maybe I haven’t completely stopped wanting to be remembered. Maybe I still wish I could mean something to someone. But at least here, in this world, I have a chance to try.

I just have to take it one day at a time.

Tomorrow, I will try again.

Author's Note

Hello everybody. Sorry I haven’t really been posting recently. I have a couple things in the works, but don’t expect anything longer anytime soon. If you’re still sticking with me, I very much appreciate it. I hope this has satisfied you guys for now.

Much love, Elk