Damn if this city isn't huger than huge.
A full night's sleep is lost to me as I shuffle down Trot's Square, eyes full of the glittering lights and shiny buildingfaces of the Manehattan skyscrapers looming high above. There was once a time when I dreamt of living here. Perhaps that would have been a fitting existence for DJ-P0N3. But me...?
I'm feeling less and less attached to DJ-P0N3 with every trotting step. Perhaps I should blame the damnable weight I'm lugging behind me. The luggage just begs to be tossed down a dark alleyway—or inside a random dumpster.
But...
I refuse.
I mean... why not?
I've spent my entire adult life dragging the weight of my anxieties behind me.
Might as well see it to the end...
...or perhaps to the beginning.
The fire still burns inside me. It's the only thing keeping this loco unicorn locomotive going... moving... shuffling like a frenetic zombie from one record store to another.
In search... always in search. My eyes are frenzied spotlights burning holes in every vinyl and album sleeve that I see.
And yet...
Nothing.
It's a curse, really—that something I once had so much confidence in is now turning around to haunt me. To taunt me.
I've thought of asking ponies.
I've tickled the thought of requesting assistance.
All it would take is a simple penstroke... a cardboard sign, even. I'm just as good as homeless at this point anyways.
And yet...
No...
I can do this...
I can complete this search...
There's nopony who can help me... but me...
...at least at this point.
A day passes. Two. Neigh York is a big place, and my hunt is even bigger. My eyes hang bored and bleary with each passing evening. With each hotel full of stale sheets and even staler dreams.
All I can see—with my eyes open or shut—is that burning flame. It leads me forward at a limp. Like a carrot on a stick. Even as I build the makings of a masterpiece in my mind, I have to... I need to find the foundation.
It's the only way I can lift myself out of this.
The only way I can ascend.
The only way...