Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

Exhilarating.

Plunging into a vacuous sky, falling through unformed voids of less than nothing. Too many years of lying to myself, she had been right all along. Worthless, I should have been born a girl. Like an infinite chasm, depression yawned around me, and my control was perfect. Not a sign, not a twitch, betrayed my mood.

After a quick breakfast, I spent the morning cleaning. The machines maintained most things well enough, but it took a human touch to make them shine. With spritz of cleaner and a damp cloth I laid the groundwork for the final act of my deception.

I even hummed a little with anticipation – this would be over soon. Careful not to rush my charade, I polished surfaces that had not been touched since the last time I cleaned.

Kitchen – as spotless when I started, as when I finished

Dining room – untouched as a Pharaoh’s tomb

Family room – what family?

My study – the one room I truly spent time in

Finally I addressed my guardian.

“Hey, shutdown for a minute so I can clean you.”

“There is no need.”

“C’mon, I can’t just spray it in your face.”

“What face? I’m waterproof.”

He was a nearly featureless rectangular solid, packed with unearthly technologies.

I smiled tolerantly and fidgeted with the sprayer. Everything hinged on this moment.

“Wake me up with the green button.” If he had been human, he would have sighed.

I forced myself to breath calmly until all the indicator lights darkened. Cloth and cleaner fell to the floor, forgotten.

In the bathroom a hidden stock of sleeping pills would be sufficient to float me to a permanent rest. Stashed behind a tub of antiseptic ointment, I had accumulated twenty three of the pale, flat, ovoids over the course of years. Stay up late reading, feign sleeplessness, fake swallowing a pill, add it to the collection. No more than once a month, a careful plot to avoid notice. Any tic of mania could have betrayed me, but I stayed true to my purpose. And now, exulting on the edge of a final abyss, I washed them all down.

Maximum safe dosage: no more than two in twenty four hours.

Drowsiness hit as I stumbled to bed.

There was a final moment of clarity – my act of betrayal was unconscionable and I would never get to repent.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

Would I dream?