Everypony Was Her
Celestia walked down the streets of Canterlot looking at all of the marvelous scenery. There was nothing imperfect about it. It was absolutely everything everypony would have wanted it to be. There were moments when she didn’t agree with herself, but that was fine, she’d always manage to make it up to herself later; even if she didn’t owe it to herself. Life was perfect and it was just for her. Everypony enjoyed themselves, because everypony was her.
Celestia had made her world with only herself in mind. He’d have farmers with the same personality, architects with the same personality and the same traits to fit the job. So absolutely everything was just for her and for everypony else, because the world was made for her.
Celestia raised the sun every morning and her sister, Celestia raised the moon every night, and both were happy, because they were both the same.
She worked in the office and the grocery store and at the post office and all through the day, it was happy, because the world was all for her.
She owned everything, because it had to be owned by somepony and that somepony was always her. And since she had it all, she felt no scarcity, no problem, no sadness. It was all happy, because the world was just for her.
There were no parents, everypony would live forever and the population would never change. Everything would last forever or at least until she told for it to fall. There were no children, everypony was in the immortal state of Celestia, and everypony was happy, because everypony was her.
And she walked down the street, her wings by her side and the wind in her mane. Her eyes seemed to wink at everypony she passed.
Her tail moved with the calm wind and made her shiver as it passed her. She loved the feeling it gave her. It was as if it were moving her comfortably to her location, while cooling her from the heat that her day has created.
Celestia arrived at her house, the same as everypony else and stared at the mirror and she looked the same as before and the same monotonous before. But everything was perfect, because it was built just for her. Wasn’t it? Is there meaning in all she did when it’s just her that did it? When everypony is happy, doesn’t that make it right, even when nopony else is shared in it.
Celestia pondered putting other ponies different from her on this world. It could be less important ponies, less beautiful ponies, more mortal ponies. What if she and her million other selves were to do such a thing?
And the thought would never leave her mind, because this world was just for her and nopony else could live in it, because it was perfect to her and everypony was happy.
And there had to be meaning and life in what she did, because all of her other selves thought it was so and everypony loved her, because she loved herself and everypony was perfect, because everypony was her.
Why should she live with herself when there’s no contrast? Why is it so simple but so complex? There were no questions and there were no answers, Celestia was herself and that’s all that mattered; because she was herself just like everypony else.
Why would it matter for someone to be the same? Why would somepony think to break the barrier of being the same? It was all for her and everypony loved it. There was nothing unappealing. Nopony else could be seen different. There was no poverty. There was no starvation. There was nothing that couldn’t be solved given with diversity. There was nothing to solve, there was no life to fulfill. There was no purpose. There was no fault. There was no crime or waiver, no purpose, no purpose, no life.
There was nothing perfect about the perfect world. Without a fault, there was nothing to fulfil. There was nopony to love. There was nopony to hold on lonely nights. But it was all perfect, because it was all for her. The world was hers and nopony was perfect, because it was the problems that made life worth living. It was the struggle for life. It was the need to eat, drink, give. It was love for somepony else that required her attention. It was babies, it was parents, it was flaws, it was instinct, it was crime and luck and hate and beauty and death and rebirth and it was life. And it was perfect, because it was all for her.
There was a need for everything to be scarce. There was love in the hatred that Celestia so fought against. There was beauty in having a sister ever if they didn’t ever disagree. There was love in the fires of putrescence. There was glory in defeat and there was pleasure in the pain and there was perfection in imperfection and it was all perfect because it was life, and it was all for her.
War is love, peace is war, ignorance is strength. But Love is tolerance, peace is achievement, strength is forgiveness. 1+1=3. Marriage ended in children and there was divorce, but ponies can get remarried. It was all for the better. It was all for her. Nopony had everything they wanted. It’s loath, it’s hate, it’s life, but it was beautiful and it was all for her.
The world she had created was not full of love. It was not full of hate. It was empty. Nopony feels content loving themselves. It’s all for everypony else. Excitement is made with the possibility of death. being bored was missing the feeling of life. Celestia realised her world was nothing and there was no fun in there being nothing but fun. It’s the hate that makes love all the more graceful. There needed to be crime for there to be rules and there had to be rules for there to be morale. And morale was what made her what she is. Love was everything to her and she had fight for it in order to get it. No matter what the cost.
Celestia woke up from her deep sleep. It was a new day and the world was all diversified. Nopony was the same. There was everything imperfect about it. It was nothing everypony wanted it to be. There were moments when nopony agreed, but that was fine. They will make up to each other even if they don’t quite deserve it. Life was imperfect and it was just for her. Few ponies enjoyed themselves, because no pony was her.
It was time for an announcement in this big world of hers where everything was perfect, because nopony was her. She needed to tell everyone what they meant to her, because everypony was somepony else and nopony was her.