In the Back of Her Mindby wackadittoChaptersLunaTwilightCelestiaNightmare MoonLunaAuthor's Note So I bet a LOT of people are confused. In this story, SHE is not a pronoun but a name Luna uses for Nightmare Moon. Just a heads-up before you start reading :) Luna Something is Wrong With the way I talk today, pretending I'm okay, because okay is a societal standard. I'm supposed to lift my head up high, pretending that SHE isn't a threat. That SHE hasn't died. I'm supposed to say the "truth". But the real truth is: I'm not okay. I just wish SHE would die. But SHE Hasn't And I have to deal with it all. I loathe it. I wish for SHE's heart to cease its beating. ~~And I want her poor soul to rest~~ And I want SHE's soul in Tartarus. It's the Way I Trudge That concerns my sister. She wants me to eat more. ~~Like my counterpart~~ ~~is~~ Like I would want to. Celestia says that she knows I'm tired. Oh, she has no idea. Absolutely no idea. Celestia thinks she knows what I'm stressed about. "Stressed". I am way more than stressed. I shiver every night, terrified that SHE will escape her hospital bed, coming for me. I post extra guards outside my room, not to protect myself but give them an excuse to kill SHE. And I don't have an appetite anymore; it disgusts me, the rate which my sister chomps on food. And I refuse to come anywhere where SHE might be hidden from my sight, the psychiatrist sure that I will launch at SHE every chance I get. No one will stop me. I will ~~end her pain~~ kill SHE. But Today, Today is a special day. The one-month anniversary of SHE's coming. SHE was resistant, but couldn't resist. SHE's legs were weak. All of SHE was weak. SHE couldn't even scream. SHE tried to move, but as soon as SHE was aware of what was going on, SHE was already strapped on to the stretcher. That night was the last time I saw SHE. The flashing lights, the urgent letter from Twilight Sparkle~~The~~ ~~fear in SHE's eyes~~ the cowardly face. That was straight after the last time I ever forgave myself. ~~Celie~~ Celestia and I were best friends. Sisters. Forever. Except for that agonizing millenia. TwilightOCD Suprisingly, the diagnosis is not Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder. It's surprising because I thought there was nothing wrong, and those with OCPD seem not to notice that their actions are out of the ordinary. At least, that's what I think it is. But Doctor Simple Grace says that's not true. She says that OCPD is a lot different. For the first time ever, I'm wrong, and I feel a pang of fear. Doctor Grace says that those with OCD may or may not realize that they are being irrational. She then defines it: Consisting of intrusive thoughts followed by compulsive behaviors to soothe the anxiety caused by the thoughts. Not being a neat freak. Not being nice and organized, though I would like that for a change. No, it's more than that. There is no OCD without fear. Dr Grace Is also the lead psychiatrist of Nightmare Moon's--I shiver. She is faking it. Every time she refuses to look at me, she is planning her revenge. I wonder if Doctor Grace has diagnosed her with psychopathy yet. Or maybe... it's not a possibility. That villain absolutely cannot be forgiven just because of a mental illness. No matter how severe it is. She deserves to be stuck in that mind of hers. She is evil. She will bring destruction to Equestria. She will kill us all. But how can she? She's so weak, or maybe she's faking that too. But wait. The doctors are saying that she's still too weak. She won't eat, speak, or be. Be there. She is always distant. Will always be. CelestiaI Want to Visit Her Again But the look in Luna's eyes say no. We brush past each other in the hall, eyes on each other, hers flickering away. I grab her shoulder. Are you okay? She chuckles. More than ever. I can hear the sarcasm, but also: the grief. The fear. The mourning. The utter insanity. My sister is losing her mind. And There's Nothing I Can Do To stop it. As if I could, as long as Nightmare Moon is alive, as long as she refuses to speak to me, or Luna, or both. All I Can Do is Sit And watch. Watch as my sister's state deteriorates, watch as she begins to spiral down into a world that she no longer fears. She is dying. Falling. In That Instant I'm reminded of what I did. I see her not falling, but flying yet not by her own force. She is being propelled by the Elements of Harmony. One thousand years ago, and we haven't moved on. We will be okay, I promise myself that. Nightmare MoonA Conversation Hello, Insanity. It's been a while. I don't think you should call me that. Then again, I'm talking to my self. My self? Not myself? My fake friend, there's a difference. My Self My being. All being thrown away. All just nothing. There's my self, a pony just like you. Then there's my existence, my soul, my everything except the inside me. Myself, I'm simply a monster. Everything they see. And my self isn't such a drastic difference. The conversations I have are fake. They are coping mechanisms. I don't need some shrink to tell me that. I'm smarter. I'm known for my ego, and you know what? I love it and hate it. I secretly want it to go away. I don't want to be that pony. But I am not in control. I am out of that perfect ring of control, I am different. So I don't care if you see me as a monster. Because I am. InControl It means that I am in that ring, that I'm safe from Society's harm, safe from my own emotions. I cannot be in control. All I can do is ignore. Ignore. Or maybe I am in control, and I'm just unaware. Blissfully. At least, I'm in control of my body. I can keep from moving, from looking at those pathetic faces. I can regulate what goes in my body. I can use the IV needle to drain myself of blood. But I can absolutely not control what goes on in my mind. It is a confusing, spontaneously combusting place. Boom. Boom. Thought: THEY WILL KILL ME. Feeling: I DON'T CARE. Voice: NEXT TIME, YOU'RE THROWING IT UP AFTERWARDS. And you know what the fickle thing about control is? It's that I'm not the one in control. My mind is. Its running on its own, giving me rare opinions. If I try to interject, I get quite a backlash. But At least I'm dying. At least I have lost all hope. At least I am not free. At least.
LunaAuthor's Note So I bet a LOT of people are confused. In this story, SHE is not a pronoun but a name Luna uses for Nightmare Moon. Just a heads-up before you start reading :) Luna Something is Wrong With the way I talk today, pretending I'm okay, because okay is a societal standard. I'm supposed to lift my head up high, pretending that SHE isn't a threat. That SHE hasn't died. I'm supposed to say the "truth". But the real truth is: I'm not okay. I just wish SHE would die. But SHE Hasn't And I have to deal with it all. I loathe it. I wish for SHE's heart to cease its beating. ~~And I want her poor soul to rest~~ And I want SHE's soul in Tartarus. It's the Way I Trudge That concerns my sister. She wants me to eat more. ~~Like my counterpart~~ ~~is~~ Like I would want to. Celestia says that she knows I'm tired. Oh, she has no idea. Absolutely no idea. Celestia thinks she knows what I'm stressed about. "Stressed". I am way more than stressed. I shiver every night, terrified that SHE will escape her hospital bed, coming for me. I post extra guards outside my room, not to protect myself but give them an excuse to kill SHE. And I don't have an appetite anymore; it disgusts me, the rate which my sister chomps on food. And I refuse to come anywhere where SHE might be hidden from my sight, the psychiatrist sure that I will launch at SHE every chance I get. No one will stop me. I will ~~end her pain~~ kill SHE. But Today, Today is a special day. The one-month anniversary of SHE's coming. SHE was resistant, but couldn't resist. SHE's legs were weak. All of SHE was weak. SHE couldn't even scream. SHE tried to move, but as soon as SHE was aware of what was going on, SHE was already strapped on to the stretcher. That night was the last time I saw SHE. The flashing lights, the urgent letter from Twilight Sparkle~~The~~ ~~fear in SHE's eyes~~ the cowardly face. That was straight after the last time I ever forgave myself. ~~Celie~~ Celestia and I were best friends. Sisters. Forever. Except for that agonizing millenia.
TwilightOCD Suprisingly, the diagnosis is not Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder. It's surprising because I thought there was nothing wrong, and those with OCPD seem not to notice that their actions are out of the ordinary. At least, that's what I think it is. But Doctor Simple Grace says that's not true. She says that OCPD is a lot different. For the first time ever, I'm wrong, and I feel a pang of fear. Doctor Grace says that those with OCD may or may not realize that they are being irrational. She then defines it: Consisting of intrusive thoughts followed by compulsive behaviors to soothe the anxiety caused by the thoughts. Not being a neat freak. Not being nice and organized, though I would like that for a change. No, it's more than that. There is no OCD without fear. Dr Grace Is also the lead psychiatrist of Nightmare Moon's--I shiver. She is faking it. Every time she refuses to look at me, she is planning her revenge. I wonder if Doctor Grace has diagnosed her with psychopathy yet. Or maybe... it's not a possibility. That villain absolutely cannot be forgiven just because of a mental illness. No matter how severe it is. She deserves to be stuck in that mind of hers. She is evil. She will bring destruction to Equestria. She will kill us all. But how can she? She's so weak, or maybe she's faking that too. But wait. The doctors are saying that she's still too weak. She won't eat, speak, or be. Be there. She is always distant. Will always be.
CelestiaI Want to Visit Her Again But the look in Luna's eyes say no. We brush past each other in the hall, eyes on each other, hers flickering away. I grab her shoulder. Are you okay? She chuckles. More than ever. I can hear the sarcasm, but also: the grief. The fear. The mourning. The utter insanity. My sister is losing her mind. And There's Nothing I Can Do To stop it. As if I could, as long as Nightmare Moon is alive, as long as she refuses to speak to me, or Luna, or both. All I Can Do is Sit And watch. Watch as my sister's state deteriorates, watch as she begins to spiral down into a world that she no longer fears. She is dying. Falling. In That Instant I'm reminded of what I did. I see her not falling, but flying yet not by her own force. She is being propelled by the Elements of Harmony. One thousand years ago, and we haven't moved on. We will be okay, I promise myself that.
Nightmare MoonA Conversation Hello, Insanity. It's been a while. I don't think you should call me that. Then again, I'm talking to my self. My self? Not myself? My fake friend, there's a difference. My Self My being. All being thrown away. All just nothing. There's my self, a pony just like you. Then there's my existence, my soul, my everything except the inside me. Myself, I'm simply a monster. Everything they see. And my self isn't such a drastic difference. The conversations I have are fake. They are coping mechanisms. I don't need some shrink to tell me that. I'm smarter. I'm known for my ego, and you know what? I love it and hate it. I secretly want it to go away. I don't want to be that pony. But I am not in control. I am out of that perfect ring of control, I am different. So I don't care if you see me as a monster. Because I am. InControl It means that I am in that ring, that I'm safe from Society's harm, safe from my own emotions. I cannot be in control. All I can do is ignore. Ignore. Or maybe I am in control, and I'm just unaware. Blissfully. At least, I'm in control of my body. I can keep from moving, from looking at those pathetic faces. I can regulate what goes in my body. I can use the IV needle to drain myself of blood. But I can absolutely not control what goes on in my mind. It is a confusing, spontaneously combusting place. Boom. Boom. Thought: THEY WILL KILL ME. Feeling: I DON'T CARE. Voice: NEXT TIME, YOU'RE THROWING IT UP AFTERWARDS. And you know what the fickle thing about control is? It's that I'm not the one in control. My mind is. Its running on its own, giving me rare opinions. If I try to interject, I get quite a backlash. But At least I'm dying. At least I have lost all hope. At least I am not free. At least.
