Pinkie Pie threw me one last party today.

In the planning process someone told Pinkie it was supposed to be a serious and somber occasion and she was disappointed. I told her to "Pinkie" it up. Which brought her curls to their bounciest bounce. I did ask for no streamers or confetti. I think she'll still use the confetti. She knows I've always liked it.

Some days I walk along this beach and watch as my hoof prints disappear back into the sand as the surf washes over them. It wasn't until recently that I realized how metaphoric this was of life. We're here one minute, solid and undeniable, and in the next, we're gone. Fading from memory until we disappear completely.

I miss the days when I didn't think about that. When the sand was just the sand and the surf was just the surf. And they both felt good against my hooves. I suppose they still do. Some things will never change, no matter how much we do.

So Pinkie threw my last party. And she really outdid herself. Even on what is normally an unhappy occasion ponies are smiling and laughing. Sharing good natured stories about the guest of honor. I even shared a few of my own that most don't know.

It's weird to think that by this time next week I won't be here. Don't let that statement get you down; we're still here for a good time. And it's not as if I'm unprepared. I've said my goodbyes, given the tightest of hugs to the ponies that mean the world to me, and even took the time to tell a certain lady how much I was going to miss her. I stole a kiss too. She still slapped me. Sorry, Rare.

I can't say I don't love the idea of having this party. And I really love that I've had time to say what needed to be said. But next week, when you're all doing this for real, remember, this is a party. I don't want my friends to leave too soon. Because I still want to play.

Pinkie, go ahead and hit me with that confetti you've got saved up. You throw one heck of a funeral.