In my days, I breathe. I exist. I hide.

Tonight, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of my tent. Thinking over my plan. I question my world. I question myself. I question the task that is upon my shoulders. I breathe, and exhale.

My companion sleeps beside me, curled up on a torn up uniform that would have just been thrown away. Her furred ears lay flat, trusting in the calm before the storm.

In six hours, I'll leave my tent with Red, my gun, and my best disguise to infiltrate the Equestrian Militia's nearby encampment to save Anon and kill Fluttershy.

I'm afraid to close my eyes. I'm afraid for sleep to cling to the edges and bring me back to that place. The blackness. The absence.

I roll onto my side, feeling fear for not what is about to happen, but what will happen after.

I've gone through the terminal enough times to know a few things:

This world is not real. Not the way I believed before. I have no name for the devices in front of me other than the ones that it calls itself. The 'Comments'. The 'Computer'. The 'Code.' This 'Simulation' that I live in has been constructed by someone. By somepony. By something.

Anon, Fluttershy, and myself are anomalies in this strange world. And the three of us have capabilities that exceed the normal bounds of what this world is. I wish I could say I knew what gave us this power. I keep telling myself that it's 'The Power of Love', but I've allowed myself to be optimistic before. It's going to take more than love to save Anon.

There was the guide. Some sort of guardian who was supposed to protect this realm, and he is now gone.

This is what I know.

Now, there's one thing I need to accept.

This world is real to those who know nothing better.

I know all of this is real to the passing pony that's going about their daily lives. And Fluttershy has so much power that she could destroy this world and bend it to whatever way she wishes. She started a war to hold Anon hostage. No pony should have this sheer amount of power.

But if she's killed, what does that mean for the world? Where does that power go? Is there truly a way to stop it? Is Red real? Am I real? Is Nurse Redheart real?

I remember this blackness. This absence. It feels like a different place. A different world.

There's a simple solution to ending all of this. Destroy this world. With Fluttershy in it. Then, some how, if I could retreat with Anon to this absence and find a new way to exist, will that be enough?

Is that no different than death?

Now, there's one last thing that I know.

You're reading every word of this, aren't you Fluttershy?

I'm not stupid. I've gone back and reviewed too. The other glimpses of the world you've created have been changing, slowly and steadily, day after day, month after month as you've rewritten your own history, painting you in a better, more understandable light.

I've put it back to normal. And I applaud those who noticed.

So, I'm sure you'd love to hear what my big plan is.

Well, I'm sure you would. And I'm happy to see all of your guards are taking sleep rotations. Because I'm already here.

This is my first time writing an entry like this in past tense. See, I learned from poking around in the same files you were modifying about the power of an unreliable narrator.

I'm not afraid of you. And I'm not afraid to tell the truth about what's really happening here. Even if it makes me look ruthless or heartless.

Hush now. Quiet now. It's time to take your medicine.