Diaries of an Equestrian Overlord

by KitsuneRisu

28th April

1.33 PM

That silly Pinkamina is there, handing out invitations to some kind of party. I am filled with disgust for her. I see her flapping head and unbecoming hair and... just everything about her makes me gag.

It's beyond normal hate. It's a hate that comes from behind my stomach, like an ulcer ready to burst forth with horrendous pink liquid death that will overload by body and flow from my every orifice until the last thing I see, smell, hear and even breathe is that pink slime that takes the form of that one girl.

I don't know why. I don't know why.

The day I saw her, more than 10 years ago, I think it was. I can't remember the exact time, but I know the second I saw her, I had this feeling.

This pulsating welling feeling.

I knew she was bad news. I knew that she would cause something terrible, something cataclysmic to happen.

And every time I look at her, and think of her, if I don't control myself with the highest degree of authority, this anger, this hate, it all comes back, floods my capabilities and threatens me into actions that I cannot be held accountable for.

I feel the worst of it now, in no small part thanks to all these talks I've been having.

My final stronghold of sanity is the very words I write now, almost as if inscribing them down somehow channels my thoughts into a single point which I can then latch onto for safety.

Pinkamina.

I don't know what it is but I cannot focus on her face. I cannot think of her in a clear manner. I know her very well but yet, she is always standing behind silk curtains in my memory, never revealing herself to me in my mind's eye.

I must stop her before the un-repairable happens again.

I didn't mean to write that.

I don't even know what I'm writing anymore, but I feel it verges on the automatic.

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