//------------------------------// // Who am I? // Story: In My Head // by SprocketProductions //------------------------------// "What exactly goes on in that head of yours?" I've been asked the rhetorical question more times than I can count in a single day, maybe even more than a week. Not that it isn't a valid question, in fact, I would also appreciate knowing exactly what my thoughts are on any given situation. The activity that occurs in my brain isn't particularly evident to me. It tends to change completely at a moments notice. There are few times when I can keep my mind consistently focused on one single thing, one single feeling, or one single process. The rest of the time, it seems like all of the processes are on, or all the processes are off. I would say that there is no in-between, but there are far too many of the described processes to tell. I lose track of them before even scratching the surface of my mind. I wonder what a more exceptional mind is like. Are their processes even more out of control than mine? Or do they have the mental capacity to keep the processes under control, turning off the current unnecessary processes and activating the appropriate ones depending on the current situation, whatever it happens to be? Perhaps that is exactly why more exceptional ponies are more exceptional: they have a grip on their processes and are therefore more efficient units. What are these processes I'm referring to? Thoughts, feelings, memories, and emotions. The fabric of what makes us sentient. What my processes do is hard to explain, but I can attempt to offer my best insight into what's inside my head. Sometimes, I feel everything. All emotions, all at once. Sadness, happiness, anger, fear, love, hatred, pride, despair, and many more that I cannot explain the meaning of. These emotions seem to kick themselves on and off as they please, only mildly influenced by the outside world. Only when I'm drawing, writing, coding, designing, or gaming does my mind seem to want to cooperate with situations. Give or take a few activities. Most of the time, I can shut my emotions away and fake normalcy well enough to blend in. Many ponies believe my way of life to be mentally unhealthy, but it's not like I started life stable. I've been a very large engine in a glass shop with nothing pinning me down, simply waiting for somepony to start me, to let me shake around and shatter the world around me, whether I like it or not. Sometimes, I feel nothing. On occasion, all of my processes flip themselves off, not caring to start themselves again. I'm left with cold, dark, emotionless nothingness. If speaking in the same manner as my glass shop analogy, I would be a raven's feather, sitting on the counter: ragged, dark, motionless, and completely harmless. In this state, I do not feel, and I do not make others feel. It makes me unwelcoming and unfriendly. My one friend tends to compare me to an alien, not experiencing emotion like the inhabitants of Equestria do. I suppose there isn't truly any point where I don't feel anything. There is a feeling that seems to always be there to haunt me. It keeps a death-like grip on me, making me feel trapped within my body and mind. My soul itself feels constricted and weak. I am powerless against this hungry monster that plagues me. This feeling is commonly known as gender dysphoria. If I were originally placed within a female body, complete with all the accessories, maybe I wouldn't feel so out of place in my own skin. Though maybe if I had never been given these feelings, I would never care whether I was in a male or female body. Regardless of the possible alternate outcomes of my birth, here I am now, living, breathing, and miserable. And who am I? "Aria!" A mare's voice worriedly pleads me to snap back to the world. I stutter as I look into her eyes, "A-Aurora, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Did I do it again?" "Oh, thank Celestia you're okay. I thought you were having a neurological event!" Aurora exclaimed. I shake my head and continue walking down the sidewalk, "Aurora, my brain practically IS a neurological event. It's just always going on." "Aria? Are you sure you're okay? Do you need to talk about something?" The mare flashes me a concerned expression as she matches pace next to me. I sigh, looking at the cement ground, "I always need to talk about something, you know that." "I guess the question is, will you?" Her tone flattens, displaying an air of disappointment. I make eye contact with Aurora as we stop at her car, "I thought of a new game idea." The mare's forehead wrinkles as her visual concern shifts to frustration. She walks around to the driver's side door and levitates her keys out to unlock the vehicle. Once inside, she unlocks the passenger side door and I get in. "I'm sorry, Aurora. I just can't bring myself to talk about it. I don't know how you'll react. So please promise me something. We're still friends after I tell you, okay?" I wipe a tear away from my eye. The mare sighs, "Aria, you know you can tell me anything and we'll still be friends. Do you think I would leave you if you told me something weird? News flash: Aria is a social outcast who hangs out with another social outcast." "I'm transgender." I push the hardest words I've ever verbally said to somepony else out of my mouth, wishing I had a magic spell to turn back time to just before I said it. The mare's expression softens, "Aria, you thought you were going to lose me over that?" "Uh-huh" I utter the sound through my dry throat as I feel my tear ducts give way. There isn't any stopping it now; I'm bawling next to my only friend because I just told her who exactly I am. She leans over the center section between the car seats and wraps her front hooves around me, "There's no need to cry, Aria. I'll accept you. Please stop crying." "O-Okay..." I say through my tears, sniffing from the mucus buildup. As Aurora backs away from the embrace, she levitates a box of tissues into my lap from the back seat. I use my own magic to remove a tissue and blow my nose, repeating several times until my nose is finally unclogged. All the while, my best and only friend is sitting and patiently waiting for me. She softly offers an empathetic smile, "Are you okay now?" "Well, I'm better. There's a lot more that I probably should talk about, but I don't think you have enough tissues." I say, flatly. Aurora levitates the tissue box back, "It's okay, we don't have to talk about it this time." The mare magically puts the key in the ignition and turns it, starting the car, proceeding to begin to drive to my house, where I'm still living with my parents. I watch the buildings of Canterlot fly lazily past. I've only seen pictures of what it had originally looked like. The city was far prettier back then. Buildings were crafted from beautiful smooth materials, accented with gold. The fountain in town square is still there, if in disrepair. At least we have the castle still close to its stunning original shape, but everything else has been rebuilt using dark red, uninteresting bricks and grey cement. Maybe I would like my life a little more if I weren't living in this generation, full of "change" ponies think is good. As we get to the outskirts of the city, we get to a more wooded area full of nature, something I can agree with. While it's moved and grown a lot, it hasn't changed in centuries. The wilderness is beautiful to me. If only other ponies agreed with me. Then again, I kind of enjoy the lack of neighbors. We pull into the driveway, making our way around the back of the house to an abandoned shed that came with the house. Years prior, I had found an old pickup truck under a tarp which my dad helped me learn about, and this year, I had begun to work on it, so maybe I could put my driver's license to use. I could probably find a smartphone powered taxi service that would let me use an old crew cab. I place my new alternator in the hood and fasten it on with nuts. Slowly but surely, I've been making this vehicle usable. The parts I could salvage are cleaned and applied, and I've sold everything else to buy more parts. My one pony game design studio barely covers what else I need. Good thing my parents aren't charging me rent. "Hey, son!" My dad exclaims from the end of the shed closer to the house. The unexpected interaction startles me into letting my magic let off, dropping my wrench, "O-Oh! Hey dad..." "Why so nervous? Aria, do you have something to hide?" He makes eye contact with me as he walks to the front of the truck. My eyes widen as my heart sinks, dreading what he could possibly be about to tell me, "Well, I-" "Ah, I'm just kidding. Don't be so timid!" He laughs. Aurora saves the day by confidentiality stepping into the situation, "Hello, Mr. Melody." "Aria! You sly dog! She's beautiful!" My dad smiles at me. I stammer, "Well, I'm... she's not... I'm not..." "I apologize, Mr. Melody, Aria and I are not in a relationship. We're just friends." Aurora saves my life once again. The stallion smirks, "My wife and I started as 'just friends' but the magic of friendship brought us together and, well, we-" "Thank you, dad. Love you too. Please, can I, you know?" I tap on the side of the truck. My dad laughs again, "Yeah, I know you're working hard, or hardly working, if you know what I mean." Once my dad disappears back inside the house, I lay my head down on the front fender, facing downward. I thought he would never leave. I love him and all, but I did not need to see him right now. "Thank you." My appreciation is slightly muffled from my position, but is still heard. Aurora chuckles, "That stallion is the overbearing dad I've heard so much about, I take it?" "Yup." I confirm as I lift my head up. She smiles, "It could be worse."