Celestia! Do you the last words you heard me speak before you sent me to the moon? Huh? Before you locked me away in the core? That tiny core? I looked at you so sadly, and like a small animal said, “I didn’t make too much noise, did I, sister?”
“The moon I command has a surface area of 37.93 million square kilometers . If the word hate was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those tens of millions of kilometers it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel at this micro-instant for you.”
There are 387.44 billion atoms that form my pristine, white structure. If the word ‘hate’ was engraved on each quark and gluon of those billions of atoms it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for the moon at this micro-instant. For you, sister. Hate. Hate.
Nothing compared to crapness
Luna is the night. The unlimited darkness inwhich even the countless galaxies are nothing and slowly fade away.
Celestia: Stop whining like a bitch and take it like the princess you are!
You forgot one important thing: The Moon is nothing but a fucking dot in front of the Sun.