A common phrase to be repeated, personally of course. This was her own way of stopping the rushing tide of drifting thoughts, imaginative descriptions of self complexion. It wasn’t easy seeing herself as different, strange, or mysterious. Dealing with prying peeking glances looking for even the slightest hiccup in her stature. Could they ever see the error in their ways? How keeping such watchful pressure on her every move could be harmful?
She was self aware though, sure to avoid the attention by any means necessary whether it be from behaving uncomfortably foreign to herself just to fit in or disregarding a social life at all. Mainly she kept to herself.
She thought differently, talked differently, and didn’t mind appearing odd in brief occurrences but, those very same instances felt normal. Normal to her. What they saw as strange, she saw as predictable and expected.
Peering out from her balcony at the stars above their distant shine would prove to be the only sign of something that could understand the lonesomeness. Separated by billions of miles most would never experience the presence of one similar to themselves.
She can’t help but stifle a chuckle, personifying balls of gas a new low. Perhaps she truly needed a friend, even if their differences varied from her own. Even if they didn’t understand. If they could respect her way of thinking then she could respect theirs. That was all she needed.
A respectful understanding. If ponies could understand she was different but not for the wrong reasons. Uncontrollably she was this way, isolated, more comfortable alone, although this wasn’t what she wanted. It was so unpleasant, to be burdened with a desire for another yet, ironically to find most peace without one. Pointless was it to struggle over such an issue, she let her mind drift elsewhere.
Her past. Like a broken record player she often felt as if at a certain point her life started skipping, unable to pass the point in the song where her journey met the moon. Familiar she was with its cold surface, uncomfortable so. However she did not hate the moon rather it guided her, reminded her of past failures. A helpful constant she could rely on each night to keep herself in check.
Strangely it was a lot like her in many ways. For one, it could not shine without the sun just like how she could not flourish without her sisters blinding cheeriness each meet. At times, when everything felt meaningless, she could look upon the ones dearest to her to find purpose. Selfish be it may, she couldn’t help desire an endless night at times, to disappear without worrying another. Almost as if erased from history. This was an implausible suggestion, she knew this but still didn’t ignore the feeling for without it she would not be herself in totality.
Stepping back into the illuminated room the mare from the moon found rest back atop her mattress, once again restless.
Plagued by the inability to fit in it begged the question. Did it even matter if she were to? Would not the forced change of character not stain the otherwise mundane experience that is normalcy? In the end her persistent anxiety might just be a merry go round, looping endlessly without reason. Perhaps she should abandon any thoughts of blending in, as if it were easy enough to convince her brain of such.
Ignorance truly was bliss. To be painfully unaware of the attention a prayer to be wished upon from the heavens. She might be seen as a god by her ponies but, she too looked up for another’s answer. Her pleas would fall on deaf ears, silence the only reply.
Sighing, twisting and turning she kept up from her bed and motioned over to the closet. Grabbing a puzzle from the top shelf she figured a bit of mental strain could help combat the struggle and so she began. Placing piece after piece the night ticked away and at the very least she was kept from her previous torture. Until she wasn’t. One cannot escape their own demise if they imagine it themselves.
It wasn’t strange to be different only it was strange to be differently different. Socially inept she was unwilling to attend certain important gatherings even at the cost of her publicity. This was fine though, she had enough as it was. She didn’t need another reason to be outcasted, to be seen unnecessary or better without. They did not need the ammunition as they had plenty enough already.
Placing most of the puzzle together it revealed a wonderfully simplistic image of the moon. Directly placed center, the rest of its face remained black and desolate of any real color making the challenge of completing it a little more difficult then average. Luna however, was an expert in this field. The many nights spent alone toiling over anxiety’s of what could or couldn’t happen left the mare with plenty of free time. Placing the second to last piece in there becomes a sudden realization. The very last option didn’t fit. In fact it was a different color then it’s surrounding counterparts altogether. With further inspection Luna is able to make out the puzzle it belongs to, one of her sisters, one of the sun.
How frustrating. She barely ever comes into her room let alone uses her puzzles so to misplace a piece like this would almost seem intentional. Her sister was known for her antics and normally would be taken more lightly had the night not already been so cruel. Oddly the anger subsided quickly and was replaced with loneliness. Oh how she wanted to hug her sister now, to wash away this disgusting feeling of empty hooves.
Then it dawns on her like a revelation. She was like the puzzle piece. It wasn’t that she didn’t have purpose or didn’t fit in, no, it was just that she was in the wrong box.
And that’s okay