I have just spent the weekend at Midwest Furfest 2009, which has been my first furry convention ever. It was an absolutely fantastic, brilliant, and magical time for me.

The spirit and atmosphere and energy of it was wonderful to experience and immerse myself in for those few days, and now that it's over the rest of the world feels just a little bit less bright by comparison. Everything about being there just felt warm and accepting and fluffy and safe and happy. Life seems to have these little pieces missing from it now, holes in the shapes of fursuits, glowsticks, and complete strangers hugging each other. Everything outside is less warm and fuzzy. Less playful. There are fewer rainbows around, and more angry red 'marriage = man + woman' bumper stickers. The con felt awesome, and in a number of ways, like a little taste of what a perfect world really -should- feel like in terms of how warm and accepting and fun-loving everybody was.

I made new friends, met several online friends in person for the first time, deepened several existing friendships, saw a lot of wonderful art, bought and commissioned some for myself, went dancing, further chased off the shyness I've dealt with for most of my life, laughed more often and harder than I have for quite some time, gave money to an animal rescue charity, and attended various panels where I learned some really neat things about various animals and the sociology and history of the furry fandom itself.

Walking out to my car and taking a few last looks over my shoulder at the hotel I teared up. Watching everyone pack up and leave, watching the magical, awesome little world we'd created for ourselves for the weekend start to dissipate, and seeing us all go our separate ways dressed as 'normal' people again was hard to cope with. I guess that's what the veterans call post-con depression.

All the tails, ears, and wings, everything that makes us who we are, are still there though. They just get a little harder to see once we leave the con.