//------------------------------//
// Where have I gone? 
// Story: Inside 
// by TheCloudtop 
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	What happened to me? Where is the boundless enthusiasm I used to have? Where did all my energy go? I used to be the loudest one around, now I don't even register. I've lost all my previous zeal for life, all my motivation. I feel like I was better off when I had less than I do now. Is it the fact that I have no one to be around? Is my energy dependent on whether or not I have friends surrounding me? I just don't know.

What I do know is I have no motivation or enthusiasm for anything anymore. I used to be the loud one, the fun one, the walking party. Now, I am nothing, less than a shadow of my former self. I don't even have the energy to pretend I am happy, let alone actually be happy. It feels as though life has lost it's color, and with it, it's purpose. What is the point of getting up everyday, with no one to spend it with? Without my friends, I am nothing.

It's not like I want to be like this. I only wish I could be happy and energetic. Every time I try to do or be what I used to, it's like something is missing, some vital part that made me, me. The things I used to look forward to don't even interest me now. What is missing? 

I look back over the last couple months of my life, to see if I can figure out what went wrong. My life is, by all accounts, better than it has been in years. I have a home, a job, what else could I ask for? Yet, my current state has only worsened with time. One would think, with all I have have that I used to not, I would be the happiest I ever was. Yet all I wish for are some friends.

Is that it? Could it be? Is it possible, that my lack of energy, my lack of zeal for life, is connected to my lack of friends? I used to be so happy, is spite of the fact that I had next to nothing. I had friends, ponies that filled and lifted me up, and I did so in turn for them. It seemed no matter what the day brought, all was right in the world, because I had my friends around me.

Now, even though I have a home, a job, and all the things I wanted, I lack the thing that made all the troubles of life bearable. Friends. I am all alone. No pony knows me here, and no pony would know if I left. I go to work, come home, eat sleep, and do it all again the next day. What purpose is there in that? I would rather have nothing, but have friends, than have something without someone to share it with.