//------------------------------//
// Day 4 
// Story: Unfamiliar Skin 
// by darf 
//------------------------------//

Log, Entry 7:

I am worried I am already beginning to slip. When I went to work for the first day, the green one that is my housemate engaged me in conversation. She kept referring to me by ‘my’ name. 'Bon Bon'. I didn’t answer her at first. I thought she was looking for candy.

I think I managed to act well enough.

Her name is Lyra. I remember something left over in this body before it became mine—she and my host have lived together for a long time. Something tickles the back of my mind when I look at her. I think it must be energy lingering in the air.

If I’m careful, I may be able to use her to feed.

For now, I intend simply to blend in around her. She commented on my poor disguise; she said she noticed I haven’t been feeling well. I could feel a genuine nature in her concern. For a moment, I almost felt regretful for deceiving her.

But this is good. This is a closeness that cannot be replicated. If I behave correctly, I may be able to harness her friendship. At the very least, I can study her. She moves far more naturally than I do—but at the same time, I noticed a spastic nature about her. Where other ponies are fluid, almost predestined in their ambulation, she jerks and bobs everywhere. Her face contorts into strange expressions. The width of her smile is upsetting. When she grinned at me, I hid my discomfort under what I hope sounded like a laugh. She didn’t seem to mind it.

Work was an ordeal. Luckily, I am in a place where interacting with ponies is fairly trivial. They select goods and I take their bits. The metal feels good. I almost snuck some home, but I know that would draw too much attention if I was caught. I’m sure I can find some elsewhere. It would be a nice reprieve from the awful feathers and wool I am finding everywhere else, not to mention the repulsive texture of my own disguise.

I felt weak at one point, but a piece of sugar from behind the counter helped me through the day.

Why am I here? What is my purpose in this place? I want so badly to remember. Every day, before I open my eyes, the blankets around me almost feel like a cocoon, like I’m at home, waking to Mother’s smile and direction, hearing the others in my head and knowing I belong. I can make out their voices here, but they’re so faint, I can’t understand them. My only hope is that somehow, the stars will align and I will be given clarity. Please. If there is any way someone can hear me, give me something. I can feel myself dying out here. The phantoms of my wings are brittle and breaking. When I am free from this skin, my chitin will need so much mending.

I am trying to be strong. I will write more tomorrow, and hope that by then, I will have heard someone.