Depa Billaba

“I did this?!” She started to panic. “You can’t go yet. I don’t even know how to hope. Or where to start or what it looks like!”

“I did this?!” She started to panic. “You can’t go yet. I don’t even know how to hope. Or where to start or what it looks like!”

“That’s a lot to hope for. Aren’t I just setting myself up for disappointment ?… I guess my husband believes in me. And you care enough to appear.”

“I don’t even know what to hope for. To feel better? That it all calms down? To live through all this…?” She sighs heavily. “That I stop hating myself.”

She sort of deflated, her ears drooping with her shoulders. “Hope…?”

“Well look at me! Mentally and physically it’s all over me.” She sighs and runs her hands through her hair. “What do you suggest I do?”

She forces herself to meet the woman’s gaze. Her own emerald green eyes were now permanently an almost glowing angry orange. “Destiny is fake.”

“Master Billaba. I deeply appreciate your kind words. But I’ve been marked by the Dark Side and I don’t think there’s hope for me.”

“Well when everyone else is telling me I’m garbage it’s hard to argue!”

“Well when everyone else is telling me I’m garbage it’s hard to argue!”

“The Force doesn’t like me.”

She flinches. “My head is too loud. And there’s so much going on. And I can’t seem to shut up…and my whole body hurts. And I thought I wanted to be noticed. To be important. But I don’t. I hate it.”