The moon is a mysterious mistress...

I’ve got shivers. Getting hyped to see the eclipse, well… it was exhilarating. The waiting before, I mean. Spent some of it listening to the Dark Side of the Moon. Twice.

Having seen the beauty of it, the magnificent wonder of the red circle being shrouded and dimmed… I stood watching it on a rooftop in the middle of a city, basking in the spare light and the awe that followed it. Embracing it I was filled with joy – for how could such a thing not do so? Not even the whole magnificent of the dawn could stand next to it – for the briefest of moments, nothing else was real. The chill, the sensation… As I stood there, watching, I was filled with love. It was the sharing kind of love as I knew that somewhere else, someone else was standing, looking up, taking in the exact same sight as I marveled at.

The moon is a mysterious mistress.

Yet I’d not trade her for my special somepony. 

Being ancient may have forced one to be a witness to many sights and wonders. Over the eons we’re only able to glimpse bits and pieces of them. I’ll most likely not see such an astronomical event ever again. Not in my life. I’m grateful for having seen this.

I love you.

You who walk the shadow of the night, you know who you are and what you have done – I love you.

You who walk the night, fighting demons of dread and worse – I love you.

I love you more than you would ever know.

...

I also love having my Internet connection back.

This should be online two days ago.

Stupid provider for sending me a faulty router.

Butterflies, snow and ash.

So, I was at work. Well, it was between shifts. Didn’t sleep much.

Thought about my special somepony.

Life intertwines. People die. People fall in love.

Life goes on. Moves on. Half a life.

What do we chase?

What’s the sound?

Life. Such a small, fickle thing. Precious, even.
Didn’t really expect it to come to this. Although, prediction isn’t my strongest suit. Proved that again and again, haven’t I?

The ability to change and to shape the happenings around oneself is something we all do – some more than others, of course. Direct, indirect… Cause and effect.  But to end up with the desired result, that’s another story. That’s different.

Do you want my bagel?

Trucking to be picked up. Strong, confident women.

I wonder what the flowers think of us.

Being part of the Wasteland leaves one to think about certain issues. Do people who change from one gender to the next, do they tend to keep their preferences before the transition? Even as girls chase boys chase girls (or the other way around), the partner(s) we seek tells us something about ourselves. I’d like to think myself in a platonic relationship with a lovely, wonderful person. My previous drive for sexual encounters and lust for deeply sated needs as a submissive seems oddly absent. And yet I feel I’ve arrived at the point where I can stay loyal to one person and doing the best to make it work even if all evidence proves me differently. Perhaps it’s because this body isn’t something I enjoy letting others take a closer look at. It’s not shyness – I’ve got no problem changing clothes and display skin in a setting where this is required. However, when given the option, I tend to robe myself in these days. I’m not ashamed. I’m just uncomfortable. Capital, isn’t it?

Relationships are hard. Friends, family, lovers, special someponies… the list goes on.

Many of the trees were my friends. Now they’re no longer here.

The cutting of trees usually leaves me morose with a hanged head hung low for my own race.

Ah, it's hard to take pride in human history.

The aid and aim of my current search drives me slowly forward to accepting that I’m not special. Strange, that may be. Incomprehensible, sure. But not any more special than any other being. The realization of this epiphany isn’t haunting. Ghastly, perhaps, but not Gastly or Haunter.

I’m stuck in my own little time. Glad I’m not going to live forever. As a vampire uttered: “The world changes. We do not. Therein lies the irony that kills us.” And people still don’t get while I prefer werewolves over frozen stagnation...
C'mon, shapeshifter isn't a big enough clue?

True to the Santiago sense of trouble and mischievous sentiment Littlepip would be proud.
Even Fallout: Equestria.

Being Fluttershy in the big city. Coming Home.

It's a strange thing to suffer so much doubt and fear for such a little thing. Although, to me it's not a small thing.

I could go on about how meeting others like me was strange - at first it was a bit terrifying - but then people were so accepting. What I enjoyed most the last weekend was how normal everything was.
And how glad I am for it.

It hurts, at first. Then it doesn't. The millions subjected to change.The transcendence of not just a fate woven by forces outside of control. Still, there's something familiar with this place.

Just like going back to the sunbathed city I learned to know so well, fully knowing that this isn't just a stop on the road to somewhere else, but that this is home. I've got friends living there. The education I'm working on has an offer at a nearby university within the vicinity of public transportation. Former co-workers who's turned out to be friends and a job that would welcome me back with open arms if I asked kindly.

I find myself without a person to hold on to and sleep next at.

I find myself content with my present relationship (or lack of such).

Yes, I do got a special somepony.

To be frank, I can't call others "my special somepony" because doing so would be lying.

As I try to be an honest person, or at least as much as I can...

I don't like lying, deceiving and dishonesty.

I'm not going to tell you about my special somepony.

It's not my place.

In my place, lost as lost can be, I have feelings. And my feelings tell me that until my special somepony and I agree to change the nature of our relationship I don't want something else. I don't need something else or even someone else. Because I have a very special somepony of my own.
And that's all there is to say about that.

People seek out different things. I was never one to go clubbing. I was one to sit in the sun with a drink of chilled, sparkling water in a tall glass pretending it was champagne. At least while I wrote this.

I got to say hello to the bartender I had a crush on, too. I still like her. She's the kind of person I'd like to marry (if it turns out I'm the marrying kind). Not sure what my special somepony thinks about that - it's not something we've talked about. Marrying, I mean.

I'm going back to the place where I feel I belong.