It can be pretty hard to believe how everything turned from sunshine and rainbows to jack shit. If I was born two centuries ago, I would be running in green fields carefree and stupid. But you just got to take what you got and go for it. Curse the Ministry Mares or the Goddesses as you pass your dead friends in the town. Turn fucking wild and become some worthless raider that will soon bite the bullet from a hero. Be that hero and end up losing everything, trying to tear the Wasteland apart.
Stories tell us, that there was once just a colorful world with vibrant ponies living in harmony. The rules were simply black and white. Good or evil. The six mares were an example of harmony and justice against chaos and hate. But the same fucking mares changed our lives and world with fire and magic. Balefire bombs fell from the sky and took away the colors. We used to be rainbows. Now everything is gray. The skies, our lands and our sense of morality are a dark and saddening grey.
In the end, we are just demon filled ponies. Every pony in the wasteland has blood on their hooves. Innocent or guilty, it doesn't fucking matter. We are all the same yet different. A Pegasus peers down to the surface and does shit as a child is raped by a raider, blood. A doctor failed to save a pony, blood. A raider chewed on the entrails of young farmer, blood. Heroes swept through the wasteland, killing raiders, slavers and evil masterminds, guilty blood but neither the less. It doesn't matter.
We are just demons. We judge the other pony with a bullet, or a collar. We point and blame others. We bury ourselves with guilt but we hardened and survive. Killing the raider doesn't seem so bad anymore. What about the slaver that looked into my direction? He deserved it. The pony just walking down the street might have been bad so it’s okay. I needed caps for my family that’s why I slaved those ponies. I raped that mare because I wanted too. That’s why.
We are demons, trekking through the wasteland. Angels died from the war. Some fled and closed the sky with arrogance or ignorance. The Goddesses left us. Ponies dug into the ground to hide. They emerged as demons. The last remaining angels fell from the sky. Our fallen angels led the demons into a dystopia dripping of semen, blood and tears. We have been damned from the start.
Can we be redeemed? Can Celestia return and forgive us? Hug us in her regal wings as we grin? Can She overlook our blood covered bodies and our guns? Can Luna just turn into Nightmare Moon and just damn us into the eternal night that we truly deserved?
I doubt it.
It’s simple, they died. Luna and Celestia went to hell, for sure from too much blood on their coats. Too many ponies died before they tried to stop it with the Ministry Mares. Maybe not even the Goddesses themselves could go to hell. Maybe their spirits roam the country watching their little ponies kill and sin.
Could we overcome our damned existence? A “hero” will try to save ponies. Save Equestria. Save every rotting and sinful creature. They try and try until they reach their breaking point or death. Usually they fail. They result to pointless murder. They let the Wasteland break them. They reach for the stars to see the heaven but only see the dark black pit of hell or dark cloudy skies surrounding the damnable world.
Can we stop being demons? It is said that war never changes. But can we change?
Me? I know how messed up I turned out. It doesn't really matter to me. My only intention is survival.
