June 21, 1000 ANM
It displeases me greatly that the Equestrian calendar marks the date of my little mistake. It is true that turning to a parasitic demon for an ally turned out to be an awful idea, but if it were the other way around, they would mourn, wouldn't they? Referring to the date in terms of "After Solar Flare" or "Daymare Sun," or something equally stupid. Such a phrase would bring mourning rather than celebration to the little ponies, despite its completely ridiculous nature. At least the name of Nightmare Moon inspires fear love in my subjects.
Perhaps I should explain myself. I am currently trapped in the body of an awkward excuse for a teenage princess, thanks to Sister Dearest and the Elements of Harmony. I have yet to decide whether this is an improvement over my previous form or not. This body is lanky and clumsy, hardly proper stature for a ruler of Equestria (especially when compared to Sister Dearest); the other was a blasted perversion of my true self, inclined to cannibalism and other atrocious appetites. Yes, I am well aware that I should wholeheartedly reject the mere concept of the latter, but this unfamiliar body has caused me to trip far too many times in the too-large roads of Ponyville Square, causing considerable embarrassment thanks to everypony with the ability to watch my flailing about. I cannot fathom how I managed to drag myself from place to place when I was truly a pubescent pony.
No, that complaint is hardly sums the situation up. It is my fondest wish to overthrow Sister Dearest from her reign of sickening softness, and this is my record wherein I may detail my rise to the seat of power above the grand Lunar Republic. The title is a misnomer, of course, for what sort of fool would foist power onto the common pony? The very idea is madness. A government requires a single soul to steer at its helm, one far more educated on affairs of the state than the rest of the land, in order to quickly and accurately ascertain what is best for the land. Rest assured I will be a most benevolent tyrant, permitting these ponies to live in exactly the way they have lived previously — breathing, socially dependent, and in a quiet desperation. The common pony is kind, but stupid and naïve, and Sister Dearest believes she is a perfect match based on those criteria alone.
But such cannot, neigh, must not last. I, Princess Luna Nocturne Cosmos of the Equestrian Empire, do hereby solemnly vow to overthrow my elder sister in a glorious display of power and wit, cementing myself as the sole ruler of this world! Yet it is best to begin small, so I shall firstly set my sights on the seat of power itself. When my takeover of Canterlot is complete, I shall be in a prime position to turn to other juicy prospects. Until then, I shall be patient. I shall formulate the perfect plan, deviously plotting my rise to sole ruler of Canterlot! I shall find minions who will eagerly do my bidding, for I am sure there are many lurking in the shadows beneath the sun. Who can resist the sad story of poor lonely Princess Luna?
Hmm. Perhaps I should not dwell to much on that question, for doing so is awfully depressing. In any case, fatigue demands that I must adjourn to my bedroom, where I shall hide this record in a safe place. Sister Dearest must not suspect my insurrection. I must postpone recounting today's events until tomorrow.
Adieu, good diary and gentle readers.
To Sister Dearest: if you are reading this diary without my permission, the joke is on you! The Poison Joke, to be precise. This should teach you not to poke your skinny nose into the affairs of others, I do believe.