My OC

by CeresBane

Rating: everyone
Tags:
Length: 1636

My OC is my best pony. He is everything I want to be and everything I'm too scared in being.

A story about a ponysona that has become your tulpa. Exploring just what it means to know yourself.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-19 07:31:51 UTC

You are my alpha, to my beta.

Many people see themselves in many lights, there are many sides to a person that others never see, thoughts and attitudes never shown aloud, for fear of ridicule, for fear of being ostracized, for fear of being feared. In my youth I've always been a problem child, an impulsive, impetuous child. Constantly breaking things, constantly hurting people, always charging ahead single-mindedly with my goal in mind and my own success the only outcome I could see.

I had a dream one night that stuck in my mind strongly as opposed to losing my memory of most of it. It was one of those dreams where you replay through old memories, almost as if you were watching a movie of yourself. It was that kind of dream that was obvious to you that it was a dream. You had control. You had the remote in your hand and at any moment you could change the channel or even turn it off and wake up.

But I was enthralled by what I saw, a mix of excitement and ecstasy and abject horror and appalling dismay. I could hear a voice in my head as he narrated my thoughts from what I think was my actual thoughts of the time.

And I found myself hanging on every word and marvelling at every sight and sensation. What I was seeing before me was was freakin' awesome!

Run across a busy road without getting hit by cars.

Don't even consider the fact that there are people in those cars, don't consider the fact that those cars could kill you. Only look ahead, reach your goal and let nothing stop you on the way.

Dodge through the traffic, don't let the loud car horns distract you from that oncoming sound of a car engine, telling you to speed up or you'll get run over by being too slow to dash past the path of that speeding vehicle.

Don't let the sound of those screeching tires distract you, just calculate how far it is and guesstimate if they are far enough to stop just short of hitting you.

I felt so hyped as the adrenaline pumped through my body. I was on the brink of getting killed but I could feel the muscles on my face stretching to form a smile. My breath was erratic as I laughed in near hysteria at how crazy I was for attempting this, but also happy in not horribly dying or injuring myself. Is it even hindsight if you knew you were insane during the event as well as after?

One blazing traffic accident later, you've achieved greatness. You've demonstrated speed and agility and strength of will stronger than what you've demonstrated before. To everyone that saw you, you were just a dumb kid with a stupid death wish. But to yourself. You are a hero. I am my own hero.

This was a time for congratulating yourself, as you bathe in the afterglow of victory. This was a time to strive for greater things and aim ever higher so that thrill will come once more.

Amongst the heat of fires and exploding diesel and petrol I raised my arms in celebration. I was the best. I was unstoppable. I caused several thousands of dollars in property damage and caused several people to die and I didn't care.

I... maybe... maybe I was a monster. Should I believe I was just a dumb kid as people called me so?

I felt my body jolt awake and found myself in my room. The TV was on and my favourite show was repeating a particular episode I liked.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my goooosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh..." said Rainbow dash in abject awe and ecstasy. Ponies held her up like a true hero. Saving Rarity and the Wonderbolts from certain doom and achieving the legendary sonic rainboom and becoming the best young flier. Of course, she'd be a celebrated hero.

She achieved so much good in so little time and it was all due to her desire to succeed and improve. While my very same desire... perhaps that's why I remembered that disaster. That elation on her face was an all too familiar reminder that I could not be like that.

I sighed at the sight.

I learned to know better. I'm all grown up, living out the daily grind of work and home. Watching little ponies do pony things while learning life lessons after the consequences of their hi-jinx and shenanigans. I really liked how all things just came together like that in a tv show. How life was so simple and... staged. Or maybe it was better to say inevitable or worked so clearly to a narrated fate.

It was cool how all the loose ends tied together so nicely. No one got hurt, lessons were learned and they all lived happily ever after.

"Shut up, Ceres." I found myself saying to no one in particular. But I could feel rather than hear a voice rising up inside. He would always come along and say something. A inkling, a suggestion, maybe even a tick borne from old bad habits. I tend to liken it to a voice of doubt in my mind but that's not quite right either. Whatever it was I gave it a name.

Ceres said that I could be just like that. But I knew better. I knew better for sure. Fate in reality doesn't move like a fairy tale. There is always a loose end or two.

For one thing, dreams pursued have your attempts ridiculed at every turn. No one wants to see you struggle and grind towards your success. As a human being within a society at large... I have to consider my position in it and how my actions effect others. Like all people I'd want to rise above that status quo, you know that Ceres... but...

...

I'm talking to myself again. Oh well no one is listening in my head, so I guess it's okay.

Now where was I... oh yes. Dreams, to chase dreams, you have to have people follow you towards it. You can't just think that talent and skill alone will drive you through. Because on the journey people will witness your journey and you just might be in the way of their very own. You have to practice behind the scenes and choose to show your hard practice to the people that would understand and appreciate it. And by appreciate it, I mean people that find a use for it.

Only a fool is a slave to their baser desires and let their dreams rule their lives. You are just a thought. A thought that thinks being faster and stronger in and of itself is it's own reward. That achieving greatness is paramount upon the level of your own scale of success.

Well thought, recently I've been thinking about giving you a form. You are that old self I always saw myself in, one without self control, one filled with great self motivation. The feeing and desire to be powerful and invincible. A self I see in hindsight as someone I shouldn't have abandoned. That pessimism that always steers you right, the voice of all your doubts and yet the other side of your self control. The bravery to my modern and constant, cowardice.

My original character. My other self that I sometimes feel in my mind forming. The me I acknowledge and decided as a someone than a something.

I can just see you being born. Can't you just see it? Imagine myself before a mirror and find myself staring for what feels like a long period of time. I look into my own eyes. I glare at them, daring myself to come forth because in my mind, I feel that I'd just be looking at a reflection unless I really really try. Those eyes, always those eyes, focused, aggressive, as if constantly in the throes of a deadly struggle. I see something in those eyes, past what people would see as desperation and fear. I see determination, an almost demanding, withering stare. For that form to be achieved, fear would need to be transcended. Fear would need to be pushed beyond the desire to flee. Fear would need to go to the point where hope dies and the mind switches on to a desperate instinct to survive. A well of anger and hate is born from it, a focused desire to live where morality just dies for preference of a hysterical nihilism being born in my place.

You are my alpha, to my beta. And yet I am the one in control.

In an instant, just for a very small frame of time I saw him. It was just a flash but the image burned in my head.

He is an earth pony of brown coat and black mane. Simple black eyes with that piercing glare as the expression I borne him with. Though I imagine him to be of good humour, snarky, sarcastic and a small measure of cocky. Just like a certain pony I know of perhaps. In the mirror I saw myself as a pony. This pony was Ceres and for that second I saw him. I saw in Equestria,  in his own room mirroring my own. Exact opposites living out the same lives in impossibly the same way.

"Shut up Ceres." It's not stupid. Being a brony is cool. You being a pony is cool.

And tomorrow, we're going to ask out the Rainbow dash in our lives. No nerves, no choking. Just the thrill of the challenge and the coveting of the reward you've always believed you deserved.