Dear Carrie Fisher

Dear Carrie,

I’d like to think you are somewhere out there watching all of us post tributes, videos, and tell stories about how much you meant to us. You’re probably touched, moved, and–let’s be honest–laughing up a storm.

I’ve never met you. I can’t say that I know you.

But I kind of feel like I do. I’ve been reading your biographies and while I’m well aware that reading someone write about his or herself does not make one an expert about that person’s life, you’ve provided a window–however small–into your life. Your candor is refreshing; your stories are heartbreaking and hilarious. You’ve managed to capture that weird, sweet, beautiful thing we call life somehow sounding elegant and brash all at the same time.

I’m currently read The Princess Diarist. I don’t know where exactly you were in your life when you wrote your entries. I do know that you’ve captured the convoluted mind of someone dealing with a mental health disorder. It’s beautiful and disturbing and haunting and perfect.

Like I said, I never met you but your passing has left this odd emptiness in my heart. I was upset when I first heard of your death but like so many things with life you figure out how to box it up and move forward.

It wasn’t until more recently while watching your friends talk about you at the Star Wars Celebration in Orlando and staring at a piece of fan art I have as my wallpaper on my tablet that I realized what exactly I was missing.

There was no one like you and there will never be anyone else like you. No one can sit on couches at chat shows with Gary at their side and make us feel like you’re sitting in our living rooms. No one can make us laugh and cry all in the same moment the way you did.

No one else will ever be our Princess.

With Much Luv,

Jana

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