I feel lost. I got nowhere to come home to. No one to greet me for when I’m back. It’s all my fault anyways. No matter what I do, people will always remember me as some “fake friend”. I want to speak to the world that I can change. I wonder if they could believe me anymore.
 
Eeeeh. Anyways you’re only for the ride anyways. Not this self-deprecating talk I make every so often. It feels a bit freeing, honestly (although I do wonder how many people had this same layout of an author’s note).
 
Part 5 is here. I could have uploaded 12 hours ago but it was 10 pm at that time.  
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The rhythmic clanking of hooves stepping on the metal floor was white noise to the stallion. He would hear them every time he would enter the dreaming world. The lantern that swung from left to right was of little nuisance. It reminded of him of the time he would ride on a swing. He was pushed by her older sister with glee. Those days have passed by so quick.
 
After hours of walking, he settled nearby another crossroad. Surely, he thought, that these corridors should be connecting to all the other ones. Because if that was true shouldn’t he be finding other ponies in this dark maze? His only companion was the thoughts that bounced around in his mind. He doesn’t explore what his thoughts were most of the time. He didn’t want to think, he just gets reminded of all the wrong doings he has done.
 
It was too late. His first thought made him look back at his foalhood. He could see himself so vividly playing in the field all alone. He wanted to have a friend. Somepony who could play and laugh with him. Somepony who could at least talk to him. But he knew something that others didn’t. Some thing inside of him hated the notion of befriending. Whenever he tried, this thing would come out of him and destroy the friendship he wanted.
 
He wanted his foalhood back. For years, he has been trying to get a friend that can last. Somepony who could battle the thing in him. He gave up thinking about what his special talent is. Now he’s turning 19 in four months and he’s still a blank flank. If only he could turn back time and use what he learned in the future and adhere it to his past. Maybe he could have had a fighting change of defeating the monster inside him.
 
He did not notice himself weeping. He wiped the tear that rolled down his cheek and inspected it. Not that there was much to inspect anyway.
 
His thoughts were swept away again when he was reminded of how linear his life was. There were no side tracks and detours. It was a straight road to victory. It was all easy, rarely hard. He didn’t mind this in the slightest. He took things for granted and now he’s left wanting to be back on the easy road like a drug addict.
 
He wasn’t the pony who made most of his choices either. He wanted to deviate and yet he was being forced to follow. If he didn’t take the emotional bait he feared being physical forced. What choice did he have but to follow? It made his family happy in exchange for his own freedom of speech.
 
A loud clang reverberated in the metal hallways. The stallion found himself slamming his hooves to a nearby wall. The tears were streaming from his eye ducts. He wanted to break free from his thoughts but they kept coming back. Before any of them could fill his brain, he shouted.
 
The loud noise echoed throughout the crossroad. He slammed his right hoof onto the wall albeit much softer now that his anger has gone away. He sobbed quietly before collapsing from the weight of his past memories coming back to haunt him. It took a long while before he was taken away from the dreaming world.