Convention Story 02

Your self imposed exile in the bathroom leads to some reflection, you were never really good at focusing on stories for too long anyway, maybe that's why you preferred fan-fiction? Regardless, you decided that if you're going to be doing this whole convention thing, you may as well look into what would actually be going on. Happily, your e-reader was expensive enough to effectively be a tablet. Alex was always giving you a hard time, teasing you for not rooting it and replacing it with something that would be a bit more accessible, you didn't care, it did what it needed to do. You start up the browser and seek the relevant page, it doesn't take long.

It's pretty boring information, certainly nothing worthy of special mention. A few celebrities, one or two big ticket panels, as a matter of fact, you didn't feel all that impressed. There was nothing that amazing, certainly nothing that should be commanding the audience Alex was boasting about. What would you even do tomorrow?

"I guess I'll just browse the exhibit hall or something..." You mutter after setting the device aside and allowing the rest of you to drift blissfully under the water.

It was always so peaceful when you were like this, all of your senses cut off, sometimes you'd even turn off the lights and there would be nothing, nothing at all. Alex, who is big on those typology things, claims that it's because you're an INFJ, and that cutting off your senses is just relaxing because you're secretly resentful of a world that doesn't exist the way you believe it does. You're not sure where he gets the nerve to tell you such a thing, if anyone is disenchanted with reality it's the people fawning over a mythical reality populated by magical hoofbeasts in pastel.

That doesn't change how good this feels though, and for a brief moment, with ponies on the mind, your brain brings up a thought unbidden. 'What would it be like to be a pony?' You could already kind of imagine a color scheme, even a pair of wings, wings would be nice, wouldn't they?

You pull yourself back above water, not with a start, but with a sigh. You were always doing things like that, whenever you didn't have someone to talk to, your brain just operated at breakneck speed, you thought. It would concoct a dozen scenarios in an instant just to imagine how things would play out, your penchant for this sort of behavior increased when you weren't talking, which is perhaps why you adored conversation so much despite your lack of interest in people. You hated it because it's favorite scenarios were always childish, like it or not, you didn't seem to possess the same attachment to yourself that other people have, the kind of attachment that responds to 'who are you?' with name, sex, and species, if it wasn't implied to be an obvious answer. You were always detached, and it made you feel vague, not real. You secretly harbor an interest in magic and the occult even though your attempts at religion were met with bitter disappointment. Somehow despite a lifetime of absolutely zero evidence, magical ideation made more sense to you than scientific reasoning. You even attempted to get into Biology in college, it hadn't worked out. You were pretty sure this secret of yours is what attracted you to Alex so much, while also making you feel exasperated. It was uplifting to be with someone who seemed to absolutely believe in it, like doing so wasn't a big deal, at the same time you resented him for being able to just 'do' things like that.

You're starting to get a headache despite your surroundings, and decide you've spent enough time squirreled away. You climb out and dry yourself off, the place even had complimentary robes, and that was pretty much awesome, because you had forgotten to pack something like that. You were just going to head to bed anyway, so no point in getting dressed again.

Alex is at the desk now, fiddling with his laptop. Good, at least he remembered to bring 'something' with him. You curl up on the bed in attempt to drift off, noticing that occasionally he'll click on something only for the screen to be consumed by a giant pony for a brief moment. He's probably on those image boards again, posting ponies and telling everyone how excited he is for the convention tomorrow. Envying his enthusiasm not for the first time today, your eyes slowly drift shut and you lose track of your awareness.

You are asleep, at least, you're pretty sure you're asleep. There is nothing, it's not some kind of black void, you're just comfortably aware that nothing really exists, nothing but you. That doesn't last long, you feel movement, like you're falling, you're not scared. You realize after a moment of semi conscious thought that you're not scared because it is 'you', you're the one moving, you're the one making yourself fall, the wind whistling past your ears that you barely have time to question, the tugging at your hair, it's all you. You're in control, for once you are 'free'.

The sky is blue, but not in a way you've ever seen before. The thrill of acceleration motivates you into engaging in even riskier behavior. There is no danger here, you're in your element, you'e home.

Home... a feeling of discomfort rips through you. Have you ever really felt like you were home? You need a moment to stop, you stop on something white and vaguely cloud-shaped. You tilt your head, everything feels at once like real life, while also managing to be purely abstract. No, you've never felt at home before, not like this... A feeling of bitter resentment threatens to swallow you. 'Why am I feeling this way? Home is just where you live, it's as simple as that!' That's what you've been told, and you cling to it desperately. You start to look around wildly trying to understand yourself and your surroundings more thoroughly, but you're ripped from that world violently, you feel like you're about to cry from the sudden void that replaces the feeling of comfort.

You open your eyes for real this time. Alex has apparently bathed and changed into a robe of his own. Which he did before collapsing onto the bed. He smiles the way he always does when he wants sex, and reaches out for you, but you pull away. Shoving yourself off the bed, you get dressed and make for the door outside, he doesn't say anything, you're like this often enough after being woken up that he at least somewhat understands.

You don't let yourself 'really' breathe until you're outside, but even out here the air feels wrong somehow, and it's all you can do to keep yourself from crying for reasons you don't even fully comprehend.