Stars are wondrous things, but you know all about them already. Will there ever be a time where you know more than you can learn? How many lifetimes would you have to experience? How many roads would you traverse, before you learned all you desired of life?
Funny thing, desire, we believe it is a sensation that will be satisfied once we acquire the object of our want. However, desire is ever present, it only changes what it projects upon.

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This week we have a new story to share, one involving The Orchard, a pleasant bar where like minded pony folk can relax and indulge in some depravity. And sometimes, a mutt or two.

Struggles harden the mind, through the weight of hardship the body molds.
Stress toughens the body, through the pressure of failure the mind buffs.
Both follow a pattern, weaving through one another, to craft the felt of consciousness.

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Long days, extensive nights, our experiences are warped by our minds, by the way we have experienced. The matters which mean little or a lot, or nothing it all, it still holds impact. Every step leads you close, uneven, pristine, or forgettable.

Happy Filthy Friday, and may you step into the new year in a stride to be remembered~.

Life is not a road. It is not a linear path to travel down, despite an uncountable myriad possibilities lay nestled between each edge of the path. We do not walk the road, we have been to every part of it, and yet experiencing it for the first time. We craft our own understating of reality through the lens of our ones perspective, a perspective molded by ourselves, and tinted by communion, relations, experiencing, the collective minds blotting out enough of the world that the negative space

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While threading the road of life, whether in the warm or cold grey light, we will pick up luggage; ballast we carry with us, that weigh us down.
As time goes on, it grows. Guilt, anxiety, and other ailments. Carried for too long, and their scent will grow rotten. But by that point we do not notice its smell, we are used to it.
It is only when we acknowledge that we carry this luggage, that we can discard it. While the scent will linger, the journey will be lighter.

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For how long can you claim a role in the story?
If your significance declines and you see the others carry on, how long do you convince yourself that you are still important. Your presence has value.
For how many times do you see them require less and less, and your arguments fall shallow on ears twisted away from your words.
Surely, your presence has value...
It surely does, but perhaps in your story, instead of theirs.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

We also have a new story going up today, where Pinkie Pie herself appears to rescue a dear friend from the clutches of dreadful bureaucracy. Quite a filthy one this week, but lovely a goofy at the same time~.

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Restraint is a skill one learns. Restraint remains a constant through a life, a hidden variable to all. When young, exploring what is hidden brings the greatest adventures. Thus, we push our capabilities, until we reach the limits and find the restraints. However, then we might just try again. A new angle, another method, testing the limits and surpassing them. With age comes wisdom, and one can distinguish ones restraints. Thus, we do not test them, we merely accept them. Despite their nature

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I saw them far away, they did not consider me at first. I had seen such many times, and they became but a fleeting image passing the balcony of my senses.
Yet, something curious happened: they saw me.
I wasn't prepared for this, why would I be? I had seen them days on end, and we had both carried on. I still would, if not for the gaze that met me. They made me stop, they made me think, to consider them. As I imagined, they considered me.

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What trouble us can easily stack up, and when you have your gaze aimed forwards, you miss the luggage which weigh you down. However, many of us know it is there, we simply tell ourselves that we can handle it.
For some weights this is true, but if we use the excuse enough, soon we pick up and carry everything, unable to leave any worries behind us.
Acknowledge your weights, and they can be lifted.

Wish you all a Fun Filthy Friday~.

On hills of grass, rolling beneath the stampede of hooves, they come marching. Strangers to each other, but nonetheless siblings. For they were all moving the same direction, clutching the same goal in their chests. The sun fried them in heat, but they moved on. Sweat drooped down their sides, but they moved on. Eyes glanced backwards...
But could they move on, when what had brought them together, was now chasing them out?

Happy Filthy Friday.

There is a pleasure to action, a thrill and eager to achieve, doubt and uncertainty in the moment, followed by a grand elation upon its success.
Yet, I find myself treasuring, inaction. There is a luxury to allow yourself respite. Perhaps savouring an anticipation, for something waiting ahead. In those moments, where I have done nothing, and not required to do anything, have I been happy?
Or, do I cherish nothing, all the more, when there is something else, that should be done?

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What if I existed in place of one of my fore mothers? How would the sensations I feel today, translate to that of a creature in the dawn of life? Minds, senses, and out interpretation of ourselves in the whole of the world has changed dramatically again and again. What of me, as I am now, would exist back then? Perhaps, only the basics. Perhaps, some aspects only coincide tangentially to what I might have experienced. Perhaps, nothing.

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There are few's judgement which affects me more than my own. In the moment, that feels odd to claim. To some extent, the judgement imposed on me from others shapes the person that I am, to whatever extent I deem to listen to it. Though, that is just it, isn't it? In the end I am arbiter of my own judgement, of what I take to heart. What sticks. In addition, it is responsible for how I weigh my own shortcomings, and how long they remain, and remind. I have the greatest effect on myself, for in

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Tens of times have we met on the road,
each time we averted our gaze,
who has eyes for those going backwards?

Wish you a Happy Filthy Friday.

Today's story is chock full of girlfriend boyfriend teasing, and a ton of scat, toilet play, and waterspouts. So keep out, unless you deign to partake~.

Reduction comes for all, over the years, the word entropy rises to the forefront of the mind. Until one day it cannot be ignored. For some it comes faster than others. Those who have experienced it... it is their job to ease that sensations, for all that come after.

Happy Black Friday.

Some words hold power in the same way the unknown does. I can take comfort in words, every day I see them, they imprint a calm in the knowledge I am aware what each one means. That is, until posed against certain, particular compositions of letters.

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Once when I was younger, I looked upon the cities and streets. Eyes growing wide as I turned to my guardian: "But, to think of all this street, that takes so long to build."
"Yes." They responded.
"And look at all these buildings. It takes so much work, from so many people, just to raise a single building, and we have so many of them."
"Yes." They responded.
"Is it not... bewildering, to imagine how much work this all must have taken?"
"Yes." They responded.

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Sometimes I wish it wasn't time again. And the fact I do tells me a lot about myself, there is still a lot to learn, a lot to accept, a lot to make peace with. If I ever wake up, and wish I had but one more day, then eventually there will be no days left. So one day, I will wake up, and feel... content? Perhaps. Or perhaps when all preparations are fulfilled, there will just be emptiness.

Happy Birthday to me~.

I would like to be a worm. A carefree existence, where I eat as much dirt as my stomach can hold, and unload it all the same.
Where I remain hidden from view under a cool, safe rock.
Where if I were split in twain, I would have a new friend to nurture together.

The more I think of it, the more my life resembles that of a worm already.
We even bleed the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.