Quick Thank You + Vader's Awakening Remaster

Transcript

I'd like to open this just by thanking all of you for still coming to me. I see my emails sometimes and it's just like, what the fuck? It's been ages and no way people still are following me.

Oh my god. Thank you all. Thank you.

I'm so sorry that things have been this way. Oh, that's a bit of a Freudian slip, but I'm keeping that in. I'm sorry for not having posted in so long and so irregularly.

Shit's been harsh. Yeah. So because of that, I wanted to remaster something.

I'm going to do a remaster, let's say, of The Revenge of the Sith, the ending. This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker forever. The first dawn of light in your universe brings pain.

The light burns you. It will always burn you. Part of you will always lie upon black glass sand beside a lake of fire, where flames chew with your flesh.

You can hear yourself breathing. It comes hard and harsh, and it scrapes nerves already raw, but you cannot stop it. You can never stop it.

You cannot even slow it down. You don't even have lungs anymore. Lord Vader, Lord Vader, can you hear me? And you can't, not in the way you once did.

Sensors in the shell that prisons your head trickle meaning directly into your brain. You open your scorched pale eyes. Visual sensors integrate light and shadow into a hideous simulacrum of the world around you.

Or perhaps the simulacrum is perfect, and it is the world that is hideous. Padme, are you here? Are you alright? You try to say, but another voice speaks for you.

Out from the vocabulator that serves you for burned away lips, and tongue, and throat. Padme, are you here? Are you alright? I'm very sorry, Lord Vader.

I'm afraid she died. It seems in your anger, you killed her. This burns hotter than the love I had.

No, no, it is not possible. You love her. You have always loved her.

You could never will her death. Never. But you remember.

You remember all of it. You remember the dragon that you brought Vader forth from your heart to slay. You remember the cold venom in Vader's blood.

You remember the furnace of Vader's fury and the black hatred of seizing her throat to silence her lying mouth. Then there is one blazing moment in which you finally understand that there was no dragon. That there was no Vader.

That there was only you. Only Anakin Skywalker. That it was all you.

Is you. Only you. You did it.

You killed her. You killed her because finally, when you could have saved her, when you could have gone away with her, when you could have been thinking about her, you were thinking about yourself. It is in this blazing moment that you finally understand the trap of the dark side.

The final cruelty of the Sith. Because now yourself is all that you will ever have. And you reach and scream and reach through the force to crush the shadow who has destroyed you.

But you are so far less now than what you were. You were more than half machine. You were like a painter gone blind, a composer gone deaf.

You can remember where the power was, but the power you can touch is only a memory. And so with all of your world-destroying fury, it is only droids around you that implode. And equipment, and the table on which you were strapped to shatters, and in the end, you cannot touch the shadow.

In the end, you do not even want to. Because the shadow understands you. The shadow forgives you.

The shadow gathers you unto itself. And within your furnace heart, you burn in your own flame. This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, forever.

You killed her because finally, when you could have saved her, when you could have gone away with her, when you could have been thinking about her, you were thinking about yourself. It is in this blazing moment that you finally understand the trap of the dark side, the final cruelty of the Sith. Because now yourself is all that you will ever have.

And you rage, and scream, and reach through the force to crush the shadow who has destroyed you. But you are so far less now than what you were. You are more than half machine.

You are like a painter gone blind, a composer gone deaf. You can remember where the power was, but the power you can touch is only a memory. And so, with all of your world-destroying fury, it is only droids around you that implode, and equipment, and the table on which you were strapped shatters.

But in the end, YOU CANNOT TOUCH THE SHADOW. In the end, you do not even want to. Because the shadow understands you.

The shadow forgives you. The shadow gathers you unto itself. And within your furnace heart, you burn in your own flame.

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, forever.