Leia's Perspective thingy:

When I'm afraid, I know I'm alive.

I'm supposed to be a Jedi, light and fearless, fighting for peace. I've never known peace. As long as I've been alive, there's been the war. Against the Empire, against the sith lord Sidious, although everyone calls him Emperor, or Palpatine. Until my brother told me, I had never heard his true name.

When I'm angry, I know I can fight.

The first time I met my brother, I tried to kill him. I didn't know who he was, but that's no excuse. Luke (Arisin, really, although he lets me call him that) says it is, though. He says it isn't my fault the green troll (master Yoda to me) lied to me when he said my brother was dead. He saved my life. Luke, I mean. We were fighting (he was winning) and then the stupid doors exploded. Apparently Luke wasn't the only one to have found our base. Luke shoved me behind him, deflecting blaster fire until I could relocate my light saber. The base survived, although we had to move, obviously. It wouldn't have, without him. Without him, I wouldn't have.

When I am hurt, I know I have purpose.

I know I am doing everything I can. Luke told me to ask Obi-Wan about my father. And about why he was trained. He tried to warn me. Unfortunately, I met him before I could. My father, I mean: Vader. The warning helped. It was the only thing that allowed me to keep fighting, the only thing stopping the utter betrayal from overwhelming me. He cut off my hand and offered me power and freedom and a family, and I held on with my uninjured hand as I dangled over an abyss and listened – and remembered Arisin's trust, Arisin's strength, and let go. And fell. I knew, you see, that Vader was wrong: he didn't turn out of love, because if he had, nothing could have made him harm her. After all, Arisin had saved me, even though he had never met me before that we could remember and I was a Jedi and trying to kill him. I never told the other (not other) Jedi about Arisin (who was Luke, but so much more) and I let them assume that it was my faith in the light that had allowed me to escape so than Han could catch me, not my fury at Vader's crimes. I was (am) a Skywalker. My father betrayed my mother and their children, but I would (will) never betray Arisin. Or he, me.

When I hate, I know I'm not alone.

The second time I met Arisin, he asked me what I thought I was fighting for. Freedom, I said. He said that he did, too, so could I please refrain from trying to kill him until we'd won? It was only much later that I realized that I should have said Peace. But. But. I didn't want to lie to him, and even then I knew that peace is a lie. After all, I had met my father by then. He had, in among everything else, tried to claim that the empire, with my help, would finally bring peace to the galaxy. True peace, he said, and I swear I heard Arisin's laughter. He spoke to a Jedi. He didn't know me at all. There were only two people that did.

When I love, I know that I am free.

Arisin and Han. My brother and my husband. And my daughter, when she is born. Padme. But before that, we will have to kill Sidious. And we will succeed. We will succeed, and we shall reforge the empire into a pillar of strength, its purpose to defend the freedom and rights of its people. And my daughter will grow up a princess, a ruler of freedom, and no chains shall ever bind her.