Anonymous

rey, how do you stay happy after everything that's happened?

ACT  THE  FIRST,  your  pain  begins :   It is a constricting agony, a tight panic in her chest that clutches her heart in a fist, squeezing so hard she fears it might burst in her chest.     It doesn’t lessen for days, not when the memory of their ship soaring off into the cloudless sky is burned into her retinas, not when the echoes of their voices still ring in her ears like a broken lullaby.

She daren’t dwell on it though, there is work to be done, says her caregiver in his gruff voice.  He waves an odd parcel of food  before her face and sends her out into the dunes to collect junk she has never seen before, snarling that her family would not return if she did not pay her dues.                

So she does what she is able, she knows things, you see. The workings of machine’s are inexplicably programed into her mind, she refurbishes and builds and whiles away under Unkar Plutt’s watchful eye, too small to resist, too afraid to deny. Her skin is still soft and her heart is still tender, she does not yet know the meaning of survival but soon she will.                                                                                                                 Soon it will be the ONLY word.

             It HAD to be, for they would return for her, she knew it, and when they did, she would be waiting.  .  .


ACT THE SECOND, your pain intensifies :  years tick by so slowly she feels eternal, as ancient as the sweltering star that shone resolutely down on them each passing cycle. She and half expects to find her visage as wrinkled and haggard as that of the others that came before her, twisted and leathered by years and rays. Her scarred hands show far more age than her face with all of their calloused imperfections and she feels like they are the only part of her that is true. 

The ache in her heart will dull on occasion as she finds her independence, older now and wiser to the dealings of men and beasts on their lawless planet. She grows too large to remain under the paw of Unkar Plutt, spreading newly-found wings to catch the  wind and venture off on her own. She is no longer harbors her childlike fear of the unknown, for she has long since sharpened her teeth and filed her nails with the scraps she is sent to collect. But she aches all the same, alone in a metal carcass with only dead flowers and memories and infinite tallies as company. The days spread out so long that twine around her like chain, encircling her, strangling her with thoughts of endless, endless waiting.                                        How much longer? How much longer? How much longer?

She can almost forget under the sun when her legs are moving and her arms are climbing. She is not waiting when she is working, there is no room for the future in the present, there is only the job at hand. She can fend off the loneliness in the light of day when she can see all there is to see, where nothing can hide from her sharp eyes. It clings to her shadow, trailing behind her in a distorted black mirage that tried so desperately to drag her back and drown her in the sand. She can beat it down viciously in the light if it dared raise its head to distract her, those tendriled fingers of heartache and desolation that tried to weave into her heart like sand snakes. 

When the sun sets though it is a shot in the dark and she soon runs out of ammunition, succumbing to the bone crushing anguish that was finally able to catch up to her quick pace. Curled alone in her hammock she mourns and she weeps tears too bitter to water the spinebarrel blooms and nightblossoms displayed beside her. She purges her loneliness before the congregation of stars and night, imagining they hear her cries and collect the prayers that linger in each tear.  Their light is cold and silent and she never receives a reply, so she awakens each day with dry eyes and a flame in her belly she names HOPE, preps herself for war for the only war worth fighting. 

                                              The stars were not listening, but SOMETHING was.


ACT THE THIRD, you find your resolution :  he arrives in the form of a thief and evolves into that of a friend, the latter of which she has never known. Kindness slipped through her fingers like a fistful of sand on Jakku, scattering to the wind the harder she grips it. He is not sand, he stays twined betwixt her fingers, clinging tighter than she could have hoped as he leads her from her solitude. He leads her unwittingly into the galaxy, starry-eyed and inspirited as a child and it is there that she finds everything else. 

Perhaps those cold stars had been listening after all, carried her tears across lightyears, paving a glistening path that lead to where she was now.  Every heartbreak a northern star that pointed her towards the destiny she did not even know she had. They were never coming back, but she no longer NEEDED them to, for what was in store was far greater than anything that had forsaken her.  

Who was she to deserve all of this though? She was the one who clung to life with such ferocity that death quailed before her. She fought tooth and nail and won her freedom, she deserved this because she earned it. Now she gripped her future by the throat and demanded penance for what she had suffered, she would take the life that was hers with scarred hands and a soft heart    

                             (  you have nothing, you ARE nothing   /  I HAVE NEVER BEEN NOTHING  )


*FIN :  she considers the questions at hand with her lip drawn between her teeth, worrying at the soft flesh before answering. Her words are chosen with care and laced with kindness, as is her expression as she speaks them

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❝  ––––  ––––  ––––   There has to be more than HURT, there has to be more than PAIN. Even if the promise’s my  family made were  false, I KNEW there was better life out there. It only took half of mine too find  it.  .  .  But it was  WORTH the wait. Every second of it. I’ve stayed happy ‘cause I always had hope.  ❞

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