An uncharacterstic and heartfelt page torn from Emery de Cleyre's Journal.

//I'm not a very good writer, but I wanted to do a bit of prose. This is an excerpt from Emery's Journal. It was torn out and crumpled up. It was probably left near the library.// _____ Date: December 29, 2017 Today I feel alone. I don't just mean that nopony is near me. In fact, I've been around ponies all day, including some that I like. My colleagues, friends, and girl at the coffee shop near work are usually enough to bring a smile to my face, but today it's different. They're all staring at me - it's as if they're trying to telepathically communicate that they know it's a ruse. They know the smile isn't real, but they don't care. They can get rid of me by speaking concisely with a smile on their face, so why bother? It usually doesn't get to me. Even when nothing goes my way and ponies are explicitly rude, I'll just write down my thoughts and feel better. I get along better with my journal than any of the ponies in town. But today, it's different. I couldn't focus on work. I can't read. I can't do anything. All I can do is think, dwell and hurt. I never used to be this way. There was a time I had friends I could talk to. We would laugh, run and play. I don't remember all that we did, but it was a better time. I was happy, or at least that's how I remember it. However, maybe my memories are wrong. It's possible that everything's always been this way. Everypony has delusions and false memories, so is it unreasonable to think that I embellished the past in my mind to cope? Is it possible that nobody truly cared about me after Warwick died? Or maybe they never cared to begin with. I was just an inconvenience that ponies had to deal with when they wanted to talk to him. He was a good pony, and I know he really loved me. That's why I think he lied in the note he left. He said that it's not my fault and he made his decision long ago, but I still feel guilt. If I saw the signs earlier, he'd still be here today, and I'll never forgive myself for that. They say that time heals all wounds, but I'm as broken as I've ever been. I want to cry, but I can't. I want to laugh, but I can't. I can barely even smile anymore. Everypony thinks I'm a robot because the only emotions I ever show are bouts of annoyance and anger. In every other situation I seem so jaded that I wouldn't blame them for thinking that I'm a hollow shell of a pony with no personality. I've lost count of the number of times I've heard: "I thought we were friends, but you left me behind." "We used to be friends, but you're not the same pony that you used to be." "I don't know what happened. We just started to drift apart." "We don't have anything in common anymore." "You used to be fun." It eats away at me, and I can't take it anymore. It's not worth having anypony around if I risk losing the little part of myself I have left. I'm too jaded to be around most of the time anyway. Writing in my journal usually helps, but today it's different, and I wish I knew why. -Signed Emery de Cleyre P.S. I've gotta stop reading fiction if I want to avoid reminders like this. The textbook I need is probably at the library anyway.