The slow death of our souls

Kenobi just looked at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. []

“Yes, I know what war does to you,” Kenobi said at last. He didn’t ask Anakin to go on, although he must have felt his pain from time to time in the Force. But it was more than the war. Kenobi never asked for any details about what had happened on Tatooine, and whether that was from tact or disinterest, Anakin didn’t know. []

You don’t know what it is to love, Master. Or to lose. You didn’t even know your own mother.

Anakin hadn’t yet settled on a consistent view of his former Master—and he still called him Master, and thought of him as such. [] Sometimes he felt Kenobi was stability and safety; sometimes he thought he was an overbearing older brother who held him back and even competed with him.

He’d told Padmé that. She’d been taken aback by it.

And he didn’t want to take me as a Padawan, did he? He only did it out of duty.

Anakin often found himself ambushed by thoughts he didn’t want. It was even worse sometimes than the recurring memory of the Tusken village, because he only had to face its ghosts, but it was harder to handle his sporadic resentments and doubts about a Master he cared for and respected.

“I’ve got some maintenance to do,” Anakin said, grabbing a battered comlink from the makeshift console. “I’ll be back soon.”

It was his hint that he wanted some space. Kenobi never asked why. Usually, it was to find privacy to comm Padmé or to compose a message to her that he could send when he next got a chance. It was hard to be apart. It was even harder to keep their relationship secret.

No attachments. I know. But I can’t live that way, Master.

~

Back again on the "misinterpretation of silence and its disastrous consequences".

And, once more, "sacrificing" a Satine pin (by @herashideout) for a post about it.

But that precious lock of hair in her hand seemed so perfect for this excerpt.

You don’t know what it is to love, Master. Or to lose.

But, didn't he?

Satine dying in his arms.

Didn't he, truly?

"I loved you always, I always will"

Failing to acknowledge our feelings does not make the truth any less real.

Self-inflicted lies just lead to regret.

And the slow death of our souls.