copied from https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/16201801/#q16236074
original author is Anon.

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>Over 40 now
>The show ended 20 years ago
>The fandom died down, and one by one, my horsefucker friends moved on.
>Not me though
>I could never let it go
>I was so busy with my fantasy, I never bothered to work on reality.
>No real friends and a job I hate.
>And I've certainly got no love life.
>It's just me
>Alone with my memories

>Life went all the way downhill after the show had ended.
>You never did find out who the best pony was.
>Despite the doomsayers, the show retained the same level of magic for 8 wonderful seasons.
>That was a long time ago.
>Now you walk these dreary streets alone.
>In a way, it's quite funny.
>Even after 4chan got taken down, and the various horsefuckers and other internet "tough guys" dispersed to other sites, you found yourself still acting like an Anon all these years later.
>Most people call you an asshole.
>You call yourself a realist.
>Passing a shop window, the rain lashing the glazing and blurring your reflection, you can still make out your clothes.
>Black suit, white shirt, red tie.
>It fits you nicely.
>You made it a point to never let yourself go, even after this much time.
>Gotta keep /fit/, you know?
>A small smile makes its way onto your lips.
>You're a regular old Anon.
>Chuckling, you continue your trek home, the cars screaming past and the rain ever unrelenting.
>It's a miserable life, which is probably why you spend so much time reflecting on the past.
>40 years old is a hell of an age.
>You're not too caught up about the fact that you're 40. More that the time just seemed to melt by.
>Dreams were something you allowed yourself to have, long ago.
>Little fantasies that you might go to space someday.
>Or maybe start up a little cake shop.
>Something. Anything. Just to make something of yourself and to live a good life.
>A couple of friends. A pet. Maybe even a girlfriend.
>Pity that none of it came to pass.
>Just like the Anons that came before you, you soldier on. Never flinching, never faltering, but never excelling.
>Got to keep on moving or else the past will overwhelm you.
>So engrossed are you in your thoughts that as you cross the street you never even see the bus coming.
>In the moment of brief shock you had before you died, you didn't feel remorse, or self-pity.

>More a sense of peace. Like the open arms of death were an old friend that you welcomed back after a long trip.
>And it had indeed been a very long trip.
>Had you the time to, you might have even smiled.
>Granted even longer, you might just have whispered your last words to the void.
>"See you in Equestria, boys."
>The impact killed you instantly, not that you would have minded a bit of pain.
>Not out of any kind of spite for the world, just so that you can feel something.
>But alas, like your many dreams and ambitions, that last wish is kept from you.
>You become nothing, and light fades for the last time.

>

>"What do you think it is?"
>"I'm not sure... Hello?"

>

>Our dreams are but fickle reminders of what we don't have.
>And it hurts to see them broken by the passage of time.
>But sometimes, despite the odds against them, it's comforting to cling to such thoughts.
>Anchors that can keep us in place when the world seems malicious.
>A faint glimmer of optimism to give us that little push forward that we sometimes need.
>Even when everything you know goes against the very notion of such fantasies.
>Sometimes, it's nice to cling to such thoughts.

>"Oh! You're awake!"
>"Hello! My name is Twilight Sparkle. What's yours?"

>"So I'll see you in Equestria, boys."