Supergirl, The Girl of Steel
@kryptonianCanine
I'm just here to turn today into a better tomorrow! If there's a cat up a tree, or if there's danger in the air - don't look hopeless, just look up!
Memory is not a gift. It is a wound that never closes. People speak of memories as treasures, as warm little lanterns carried through the dark. They are wrong. Memory is a graveyard. A place where every mistake, every humiliation, every loss is buried shallow enough for the hands to keep clawing their way back to the surface. The mind does not heal. It preserves. A cruel word spoken twenty years ago can remain untouched, pristine as the day it was uttered. A face long dead can still stare from the corners of your thoughts. A failure can linger beneath the skin like a splinter of rusted iron, festering quietly until the infection reaches the heart. Memory rots. It decays inside us, but it never leaves. The happiest moments fade first, worn smooth by time. Yet suffering remains sharp. The betrayal. The grief. The guilt. They survive like parasites nestled deep within the folds of the brain, feeding on attention, growing fat on regret. Every night they whisper. Every silence gives them room to speak. And the worst part is that they wear your own voice. You become the jailer and the prisoner. You revisit old wounds, picking at them until they bleed anew. You walk the same corridors of pain again and again, tracing scars that should have faded but never do. The past is not dead. It hangs from the ceiling of the mind like a corpse, dripping steadily into the present. Drop by drop. Year by year. Until everything tastes of it. Until every joy is stained by what came before. Until the rot spreads so far that you can no longer tell where the memory ends and where you begin. That is the cruelty of memory. Not that it fades. But that some parts refuse to die. They remain buried within us, cold and patient, waiting for quiet moments to rise from their graves and remind us that the things we survived are still alive somewhere inside our heads, bleeding in the dark.
Ⓢo help me if those bedbugs even THINK about biting..!
A massive creature beyond comprehension interfering in my plans means little when those plans must come to fruition in order for the future to exist. Canterlot falls- pony society shambles, and when Sunny Starscout resolves to unite them all, magic in turn risks its return, alongside I. For magic is that which has always guided all ponies in the end of any sort of race. I and my actions are inevitable. Though perhaps now, in the face of such larger players, I should grow to embrace a little bit more creativity. After all... for every creature that stands to embrace friendship, there must be something MUCH worse out there capable of doling a destruction so untold, so thorough, that nothing- not even friendship itself, can survive. Count your days, ponies. I will return.
Don't let the door hit your tail on the way out
Ⓢo when i leave, big magic horses start tearing through the land. But when I get back, all the fun's over? What a crock!!
🎤🐙🎀💕 https://i.postimg.cc/43vBv31q/69C187AC-252F-43AC-84A6-0A5637A94ABD.jpg
And they call ME a hero..
What is a girl failure
https://i.postimg.cc/MZBX9jBj/E31D9DBF-42A8-468B-9FFA-F2EBE9721571.jpg
:33 < 7/11 has energy drinks and slurpee and cheetos and energy drinks and slurpee and cheetos and energy drinks and slurpee and cheetos and
Now that's a Ⓢuper good Ⓢnack!