Cagey

patted him

On Fluttershy’s

Pinkie was

I pretended to be Pokémon. Does that count?

“You say you’ve met a Juliet, but your only example is a three hundred year old fictional vampire.”

"With this piece, I wanted to capture how ghosts are memories that haunt you. And if there's one thing I'm haunted by... it's using the toilet."

That's a cool idea. Lots of preexisting universes with conflict potential.

I don't have any specific ideas, and I think I'd be best at either Rarity, Rainbow, or Pinkie.

We could do different settings. We could drop the canon characters into one and have them try to figure out how to get home. Infiltrating a place is a cool idea. Figuring out weird stuff with magic, too, and there's lots of potential with other civilizations being hostile or mysterious. Those would give the RP some direction, I think.

Anything that leads to characters interacting, working together, or experiencing dilemmas, I guess?

"It could always be worse. You could always be Naruto."

I am incredibly sorry for your loss. He was always kind to me.

This Christmas, I didn't do anything on Christmas Eve and am not doing much on Christmas Day. And yet, far more than last year, many people wished me merry Christmas.

"Man, your horse has, like... no horse identity."

“I’m like the Lorax. I speak for the garage doors.”

Same here. I tried learning to cartwheel last year, actually, and failed—but I found out my mother can cartwheel, despite her age and the fact that I’ve never seen her do so much as run before.

Mostly YouTube. If I'm away from my computer, then usually Bandcamp or my old iTunes downloads.

[The notes are messy, as though the author has just learned to write.] I am afraid. Even now, months after my acquaintances companions friends freed me, the Collective keeps showing up in my dreams. In them, we I'm searching, and empty, and existing as someone I don't even recognize. And the worst part... is that it feels natural. It feels like that's how we I'm meant to be. My voice is not my own. My thoughts are not my own. And I wake up, and I can't tell which is real life and which is the nightmare. I hate it. I want to hate it. My identity was... who I am. It's supposed to be getting better. I'm supposed to feel normal again, but I have to learn to use new limbs, and I don't have horn magic anymore, and I tasted death and it was terrifyingly instant. Except I wasn't dead, really. ...What does it mean to have a soul? [Notes are illegible] And then, today, I had to relive the Collective again, this time as part of some sick, twisted mind spell in the dungeons of the Crystal Empire, because fate just wants to punish me. And I saw the Collective again and I felt it and I couldn't go through that again and I needed it to STOP – And there was fire, for a second. I think I've been running from myself. I am not special. Not brave. Not strong. Not even a freaking individual. I'm miserable and lost and weak and scared and I've been pretending my whole life that none of that is true, pretending that my parents were wrong, but I keep facing the truth, over and over and over. Even foals can tell. I'm worse than a failure. I'm nopony at all. And I can't escape it.