"..and unimpeded, unhindered, and unstoppable,
he comes forth,
striding like the apocalypse into our midst.."
Dear Padme,
he comes forth,
striding like the apocalypse into our midst.."
Dear Padme,
It's been awhile since I've last wrote you, and I apologise. I had to replace all my fingers as the previous ones gave me little electronic jolts after I've used the Force one too many times.
I'm still trying to get used to this suit. It tends to be stiff at joints and after the third pair of knees only was I able to sit. His Royal Highness, the Emperor also known as Darth Sidious the Hideous (HRH, tE aka DStH), had recently installed a new panel of buttons on my chest plate. It comes with a wide array of special effects, which I suspect is a thoughtful gesture from HRH, tE, aka DStH. Also included is my 'Darth Vader Theme Song' and 'Special Asthmatic Breathing', the latter which I plan to have another button likeso installed on my palm (to avoid awkward moments of poking at my chest in the middle of a conversation). No longer having a handsome face and once agile limbs has proven difficult for me to command the respect of my minions. And as I have said many times before, HRH, tE aka DStH, is a thoughtful man, though not necessarily the Father of Bright, Workable and Effective Ideas. He believes that with this new panel I am able to impress my minions and make Grand Entrances once more, and not to mention, broadcast to an entire parade ground with the internal subwoofers (with added bass) included on my waist. However, it is Not The Same.
I am given my own meditation chamber, something of a blessing (once again, another kind gesture of HRH, tE, aka DStH) as now I am able to take off my helmet in privacy. I suppose HRH, tE, aka DStH thinks it will keep me sane, as I am not used to wearing a bucket on my head All The Time. I have noticed also, that the personal guards I command have recently taken to wearing helmets of the same design as mine (only that theirs look even more like buckets). It seems too, another decree from HRH, tE, aka DStH has them all clad in black. It is but another subtle gesture of HRH, tE, aka DStH, to help me fit in with the others, so that I do not feel so much of an outcast. HRH, tE, aka DStH, is trying his best, but somehow, it is still Not The Same.
He has his heart in the right place, though I cannot say the same for myself. I am not entirely sure if I have a heart, but I have high hopes that I am positive, though I cannot say for sure where it is. HRH, tE, aka DStH could have had it commisioned to be in my left foot, for all I know, so as to make me truly invincible, save for my Achilles Heel. For, if I have no heart, how is it that I still feel for you? How is it that some parts of me ache at the thought of you no longer here? In me I hear echoes of your voice, bouncing off various electronic body parts, as I face each night alone. I am desolate, hollow without you (which accounts for the echoes, I think), and it seems that I will live for a very long time (what with exchangeble and upgradeable spare parts).
I have spent my whole life learning about Life's Vital points and how to apply them in combat, yet I have forgotten to apply them to myself on that fateful battle with Obi. Obi. Mentor, friend, and now foe. Yes, how I hate him so, for leaving me when he could have granted me the mercy of decapitation. Even now I still feel the wounds of seared flesh, and it seems I will continue to feel them for the rest of my days. As an afterthought, I have decided that if I were to die one day, I would NEVER EVER want to be cremated. In fact, I would be most grateful to the person who chooses a great body of water to dump me in as my final resting place. One of these days I must really get down to Writing a Will of Sorts, more of Last Instructions, maybe. And put it in my heel, with my heart, so that it will be safe.
The alarm in my chamber alights, and I must go. Smiting rebels is a major part of my job nowadays. So, with a heavy heart I have to conclude this letter.
Even though you will never read these letters that I write to you everyday, yet somehow they keep the part of me that loves you alive, the man in this machine alive. And even though you will never hear these words again, still,
I love you.
Always, Anakin.
I'm still trying to get used to this suit. It tends to be stiff at joints and after the third pair of knees only was I able to sit. His Royal Highness, the Emperor also known as Darth Sidious the Hideous (HRH, tE aka DStH), had recently installed a new panel of buttons on my chest plate. It comes with a wide array of special effects, which I suspect is a thoughtful gesture from HRH, tE, aka DStH. Also included is my 'Darth Vader Theme Song' and 'Special Asthmatic Breathing', the latter which I plan to have another button likeso installed on my palm (to avoid awkward moments of poking at my chest in the middle of a conversation). No longer having a handsome face and once agile limbs has proven difficult for me to command the respect of my minions. And as I have said many times before, HRH, tE aka DStH, is a thoughtful man, though not necessarily the Father of Bright, Workable and Effective Ideas. He believes that with this new panel I am able to impress my minions and make Grand Entrances once more, and not to mention, broadcast to an entire parade ground with the internal subwoofers (with added bass) included on my waist. However, it is Not The Same.
I am given my own meditation chamber, something of a blessing (once again, another kind gesture of HRH, tE, aka DStH) as now I am able to take off my helmet in privacy. I suppose HRH, tE, aka DStH thinks it will keep me sane, as I am not used to wearing a bucket on my head All The Time. I have noticed also, that the personal guards I command have recently taken to wearing helmets of the same design as mine (only that theirs look even more like buckets). It seems too, another decree from HRH, tE, aka DStH has them all clad in black. It is but another subtle gesture of HRH, tE, aka DStH, to help me fit in with the others, so that I do not feel so much of an outcast. HRH, tE, aka DStH, is trying his best, but somehow, it is still Not The Same.
He has his heart in the right place, though I cannot say the same for myself. I am not entirely sure if I have a heart, but I have high hopes that I am positive, though I cannot say for sure where it is. HRH, tE, aka DStH could have had it commisioned to be in my left foot, for all I know, so as to make me truly invincible, save for my Achilles Heel. For, if I have no heart, how is it that I still feel for you? How is it that some parts of me ache at the thought of you no longer here? In me I hear echoes of your voice, bouncing off various electronic body parts, as I face each night alone. I am desolate, hollow without you (which accounts for the echoes, I think), and it seems that I will live for a very long time (what with exchangeble and upgradeable spare parts).
I have spent my whole life learning about Life's Vital points and how to apply them in combat, yet I have forgotten to apply them to myself on that fateful battle with Obi. Obi. Mentor, friend, and now foe. Yes, how I hate him so, for leaving me when he could have granted me the mercy of decapitation. Even now I still feel the wounds of seared flesh, and it seems I will continue to feel them for the rest of my days. As an afterthought, I have decided that if I were to die one day, I would NEVER EVER want to be cremated. In fact, I would be most grateful to the person who chooses a great body of water to dump me in as my final resting place. One of these days I must really get down to Writing a Will of Sorts, more of Last Instructions, maybe. And put it in my heel, with my heart, so that it will be safe.
The alarm in my chamber alights, and I must go. Smiting rebels is a major part of my job nowadays. So, with a heavy heart I have to conclude this letter.
Even though you will never read these letters that I write to you everyday, yet somehow they keep the part of me that loves you alive, the man in this machine alive. And even though you will never hear these words again, still,
I love you.
Always, Anakin.
1 comments:
I think you need to come back... *shakes joyce* COME BACK! COME bACK! UR glorious days are long time gone.. and sadly, u WERE cremated.. muahaaha
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