I don't like to imagine.
I'm a realist. I do things by the book. I don't stray away from my daily routine, I barely even leave my house. Everyday when I wake up and run through my list of things, It's always the same no matter the day or time.
My blurry vision faded away as I slowly lifted myself from the sheets. My room was dark. I keep the curtains in my bedroom closed. Even when there's Sun outside, I don't like to get light on my face as soon as I wake up. I reached to my left side with one hoof, it's where I keep my glasses. And swiftly put them on.
My room was the same it had always been. Bland. Unorganized. Unkempt. Why would I waste time organizing and cleaning it anyways? Moss seemed to grow from some cracked crevices in the wooden ceiling, dust had been collecting in some of the larger wardrobes and some of the corners had spider webs. I got up from my bed. The frame was old, and the mattress was almost moldy. Sleeping on it wasn't comfortable, but that didn't really matter to me. It got me through the 6 hours of required sleep, and that's enough for me. Frankly, If given the opportunity, I wouldn't sleep at all. Such a waste of time, when I could be doing something else, something more productive.
Just like the ceiling, the floorboards were old. They creaked under my weight as I walked around the left side of my bed, to my right. That's where I could find two double doors leading into a small closet, where I kept most of my clothes. And by clothes, I mean the different sweaters I wear most of the time. There were also cardboard boxes with files or papers, I wasn't sure. It had been a long time since I even moved anything around in there.
My mouth opened wide with a yawn as I reached for a black sweater. It was my favorite. A gift from a friend, back when I still cared enough for friendship. The gift itself came from Minuette, she had made the sweater herself and given it to me. I didn't like how it was prickly at first, it felt like those sweaters your grandma would knit you. But it started growing on me. Now, it's practically the only thing I wear. That same day, I was expecting a special guest. But she didn't bother showing up.
Now I've got other things to worry about. After all was said and done, I went for the door that led downstairs to the main area. Once again stepping down the rickety stairs. I wondered if one day they would just give in and I'd fall right through them.
They led to the living room, which, like the rest of my house, was dark and gloomy. There were a few coffee tables sparingly around, sitting against hallways. On top of them, books of different kinds and volumes, stacked on top of each other. There were also wooden shelves, which had even more books of all kinds. Some of which I had to buy myself, and some which had been with me for a while now. Most of them were related to various subjects in academics. Study of magic, magical artifacts, Equestrian history, spells, potions, really anything that wasn't fiction. I didn't care to spend time reading a romance when I could instead be gaining more knowledge.
Under one window, next to a wall-shade was my work station. This was my piece of paradise. In here, I could fully close myself out and focus on my studies (Not that I already wasn't excluded from everything else around me). There, lay a few books. Pieces of parchment too, with plenty of horn-writing on them. I was no stranger to taking notes. There was a half-burned candle sitting on top of a plate. The drops of wax that once ran down its side, now completely solid. I'll have to remember to buy more candles next time I go out.
Turning a corner, I stepped into the kitchen. Or what was once the kitchen. Despite there being a dining table with chairs, I didn't actually eat there anymore. I was using the dining table to instead hold the plethora of books I read, as well as some dirty plates and mugs. On the wooden counters, more dirty plates, pans, pots. I keep telling myself I'll wash them, but it's not on my priority list. I open a cupboard, there's some milk. It smells weird, but I just gulp it down straight out of the box. There wasn't much left anyway. I opened another cupboard. Oatmeal. Sure, that makes for a decent breakfast. I have a hard time finding a clean bowl, but once I do, I pour the oats inside and make my way back to my study station.
This is where I spend 90% of my time. In silence, under the light of a lampshade. Reading, taking notes, writing. Oftentimes, I eat while I study or study while I eat. I've got a clock hanging beside the front door, I use it to check the time, but not too often otherwise I'll get anxious and won't be able to focus on my study. So there I sat. All day. Everyday.
And I enjoyed that.
Spending time by myself is what I enjoyed. I kept eating my breakfast, scribbling down notes from the book I was reading. The silence helped me focus. Sure, a few curious ponies would knock on my door from time to time, but if you ignore them for long enough, they usually go away. If it's the mail pony, they'll know to leave the mail in the mailbox. Even then, I spy on them to make sure that they've truly left before I go out to collect my papers. I only interact with other ponies when absolutely necessary. Given the chance, I'd avoid talking with them at all.
My home was more than a simple house. It was almost like sacred grounds for me. My books are my refuge. Each one holds a world of knowledge and secrets waiting to be unlocked. It's like having an entire universe at my hooves.
Some may say that it's run down, moldy, old, unkempt. But I for one find it charming. I can feel the energy in the air. The creaking of the floorboards, the whistling of the wind. It's alive.I don't need others' approval. My passions and interests are my own, and I find solace in pursuing them without the distractions of social norms and expectations.
Friends were never really my thing. I attempted it once or twice, but after what happened last time, I'm never going back to making friendships ever again. My books don't lie to me. They won't cheat on me, they won't forget about me. I'll have them until the stars fade, and until each wooden support beam of this house has rotted away and given in, I will have them by my side. I find solace and companionship within the pages of my books, a source of unwavering support and understanding that surpasses what traditional friendships offer. My books are almost like a better version of a friend.
I sat, minute after minute, hour after hour, my eyes fixated on the pages. Reading. I was in my own bubble. My mind was focused. I could hear the tik-tok of the clock beside me near the door, ticking every second. I glanced up and off to my left. It was already 10:30 A.M. I lowered my head and buried it deep within the pages of the book. Time seemed to move fast, or not move at all. I took one glance up and off to my left again, my eyes jolting to the door. It was already 12 PM. I had a book to return at 3, so at least there was some time left. I was so focused all throughout that I didn't have a sense of time. One minute for me seemed to move an entire hour forward. I took one glance up and off to my left one final time, though I did not find my clock by the door. I scanned the room for a second and noticed it was by the window instead. Tik-tok. Already 2:30 PM.
If I want a chance at returning that book in time, I should get going immediately. I hopped off my seat and looked at the shelf behind me. Books upon more books, cramped into more and more shelves. I looked at the top most shelf, looking at the names written along the spines of them... Where is it? My eyes analyzed each book on the top row, yet nothing. It was only when I moved further down that I could see it on the middle row. I could've sworn I put it on the top row.
Using my magic, I float the book off the shelf and by my side as I go for the drawer next to the shelf to grab a pair of bags. I wrap them around my body and float the book into one of them, closing it shut after I'm done. Finally, before going out into the world, I took one deep breath and prepared myself.
I was immediately assaulted by sunlight as soon as the door opened. I had to squint my eyes to see better and even then it took me a few seconds to adjust to the lighting outside. Once I managed to get my bearings, I went down the stone path leading up to my house, crossing the stone fence and heading on out to the streets of Canterlot.
Everytime someone lay their eyes on me and our gaze met, I turned away or looked down at the ground. Perhaps they liked to stare because I barely came out of my house, but they didn't know me and they couldn't care less about me. Maybe they were staring at my unkempt mane, or droopy eyes from late night studying. But like I said, I don't care about others' judgments.
This was my most dreaded moment of the day. When I wasn't inside. It felt unproductive to not be inside studying all the time, and even worse, ponies could come up to me and start conversations, slowing me down even more. I hated talking about unnecessary things. The only pony outside I interacted with was the librarian at the reception desk, and even then, all I usually did was return or ask to borrow a book.
It felt like ages to walk along the busy streets. These crowded areas don't sit well with me, and all the noise makes my head-ache. Despite the annoyance, I managed to somehow reach Canterlot's library in one piece. I reach the front desk and I think the receptionist is already groaning once she sees me. I'm there everyday, or every other day.
She's this old mare with gray mane and tail, her mane is tied up in a bun, and she wears some reading glasses. Somehow, she always greets me with a smile. I don't do the same.
"Moondancer!" Her weary voice called. "Good to see you again. Came to return a book I presume?"
"Yes." I didn't waste time and immediately reached for my bag, placing the book on the desk.
"The Healing and Magical Properties of Plants and Flowers! This one is a classic. I remember when I was a young filly like you, I would hunt for these on the forest next to my house!" The old mare picked it and placed it under the desk. I stared at her, waiting with a raised brow. It took her a second to realize her mistake. "Oh! Sorry dearie, I know you've been waiting on your book about magic and its properties on structures, but the pony who borrowed it hasn't returned it yet."
"UGH!" How long does it take for someone to read a book!? I can read almost 200 pages in less than 3 days, how lazy is this pony that they can't read it in time and must hold me up!? This small outrage shifted my glasses off position, and I had to readjust them slightly. The receptionist shook her head.
"Now, now, be patient. It'll be here soon, don't you worry." Right. At the rate it's going, I won't be able to read it at all. And I've got 4 other books I'm finishing this week.
"Sure. Whatever." I faced away and began the walk back to my house. I could hear the receptionist as she waved goodbye.
"See you soon!"