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~written in datapad format~
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This. Is. Not. Good.
It strikes me that that old cliché "Life is stranger than fiction" is a cliché for a reason. Life really is stranger than fiction. At least my life.
I am currently aboard the Royal Starship. We are on our way to a remote planet for repairs to the hyperdrive. Aboard the ship: the ship's pilot; Capt. Panaka and a couple of his men; two Jedi; one Gungan; several droids; three handmaidens; and one Queen of Naboo.
Here's the bizarre thing: To everyone but the three handmaidens, one Queen of Naboo, and Capt. Panaka, I am the one Queen of Naboo. That's right. I, Sabé, am dressed and made up as the Queen. Just as Panaka always planned it. Only now that it's actually happening...it's very...weird.
And it's not just because the makeup makes my face feel like the surface of Kessel.
Or because the clothes make me feel like I now inhabit the body of a statue.
No...it's the way people look at me. Like they expect me to have all the answers, to tell them what to do. And then when I say something, they listen and respond. Immediately.
It is a very big leap from my normal existence as a Handmaiden. A very big leap.
I suppose if things weren't so dire right now, it might actually be fun. But I'm so afraid that I'll trip or something and that it won't just humiliate me, but will result in the total annihilation of our planet.
Actually, I guess it is a little bit fun. In between imagining all the stupid things I could do and the disastrous results, I have to admit I'm enjoying myself. It's nice to have everyone looking to me for answers. And I feel like I'm playing the role of my life. The clothes and makeup are simply my costume, and it's actually kind of neat to look in the mirror and see myself looking like a Queen of Naboo.
It's a really strange feeling, almost as if I've got two little Sabé's in my head, fighting things out. One part of me hates the heavy gowns and thick makeup; the other flaunts them. One part of me is terrified; the other part is elated. One part of me recognizes the seriousness of the situation; the other part sees this almost as just some elaborate holodrama in which she has the leading role.
So far, the serious, nervous, scared side seems to be winning out, which is probably a good thing. I can't forget, even in the moments the excitement wins out, all that is at stake. Our people are dying, our friends and family are in great danger. We are their only hope. I have to do things right or all could be lost.
At the same time, I realize that having a little lighter view of this is what allows me to play the role I have to play. If I gave into my fear completely, I would fail–I'm sure of that. By allowing myself to enjoy the attention and the drama just a little, I make this unreal enough that I can pretend to be Amidala. I can pretend to be in control, and to know what I'm doing.
Does any of this make any sense at all? I'm so confused!
I'm going to stop writing now and try to find my sanity. I'm sure it's around here somewhere. I sure hope I didn't leave it behind on Naboo...
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