Well, they didn't truly know. Some of them had ideas, some of them had their suspicions, and some knew the truth. But they didn't know. They had never felt it, never experienced it, been to hell and back, and still tried to live each day. Never had they seen the world crash down and burn in front of young, naïve eyes that had never had to do anything on their own. Never had they felt such pain, ripped from an eighteen year olds heart as she drowned in her mistakes, suffocated herself with her choices, and killed herself with her own love. No, nobody knew.
They often would wonder why I would go days without sleep or rest or even laying down. They didn't understand that dreams to me were only an extended version of my own personal torture. To them, dreams were an escape to a better world they knew they could never have. To me, dreams were taunting, showing me a much better world that I once had in my grasp, and let yet slip through my fingers. I held my heart in my hand, and I allowed it to be completely crushed, blackened, and turned to fragile stone. No, nobody knew.
I saw them; I heard them. I wasn't stupid. To them, I was their leader, but quiet, jaded, and haunted by a past they didn't know. To them, I was Tyla Moore, Jedi Exile finding her path to redemption. To me, I was nothing more than a wisp in the wind of life. I was not the exile, not Tyla, not Kiana, not the General, simply a wisp, fighting to find her way to death's doorstep. One person, one person, had broken me so badly, that I went to bed each night wishing that I would not wake, and had me cursing each breath I took when I awoke as I always did. My life was my greatest nightmare. No, nobody knew.
Some of them tried. I even think some of them actually cared. But they didn't know, and they couldn't help. You have to understand the past to know the present, and they didn't know. Part of that I guess was my own fault, but I don't know. I kept everything about me a secret in my own attempt to make myself a secret. A simple secret that nobody would remember; a secret that people would try to forget. Death was the one thing I wanted, needed. I needed death more than I needed air, water, light, food, everything. And yet death was the one thing denied to me. No, nobody knew.
Their thoughts were always there in my head. Always I could hear them, wondering who I really was, wondering where my loyalties lied, wondering what path I followed, wondering who had once held my heart, wondering who had closed me off to everybody, wondering what I would do next, and wondering, always wondering, was this who I truly was. They had never seen me before war, exile, heartbreak, before everything. They had simply seen me afterwards and yet they still assumed this was me. No, nobody knew.
Nobody knew that I couldn't stand to see their faces each morning. Nobody knew that their voices made my ears bleed. Nobody knew that if I hadn't had needed them, I would have ripped life from their bodies so long ago. Nobody knew that I hated each and every one of them with a passion so intense it warmed even me when I was trapped in my coldest thoughts. Nobody knew that there was no hope for me. No, nobody knew.
Nobody knew that death was what I craved more than anything in this universe. Nobody knew that I was no longer Tyla Moore. Nobody knew that I hadn't been Tyla Moore in such a long time that I could barely remember who she once was. Nobody knew that I had given myself over to one person so wholly and completely, that I lost myself. Nobody knew that the one person I had let myself love had broken me, thrown me away, and turned me into whatever it was I was now. Nobody knew that I still loved him so much it hurt me. And maybe that was why I still loved him. No, nobody knew.
In the deepest, darkest nights, I was left alone to my thoughts. Thoughts that made no sense, thoughts that haunted me, thoughts that harmed, thoughts that helped, thoughts that broke me even more, and thoughts that threatened to shatter me for the final time. These thoughts did not belong to Tyla, to Kiana, to the General, or to the leader. These thoughts belonged to a defeated woman who had given up on touching the light of hope so long ago she couldn't even remember when. No, nobody knew.
Not a soul knew who I was, especially not me. Not a soul knew what their redemption cost me, especially not me. Not a soul knew how hopeless I was, especially not me. Not a soul knew what I had sacrificed, especially not me. Not a soul knew what had been brutally ripped away from me, especially not me. Not a soul knew what had been stolen from my heart and mind, especially not me. Not a soul knew what my thoughts were, especially not me. Not a soul knew where my path would lead, especially not me. No, nobody knew.
So when they found me, sitting alone in my thoughts, weapon in hand as I was ready to rob myself of 'the joy of life,' nobody knew how much they hurt me by saving me. They simply believed they were doing what was in my best interests. They were not aware of the fact that they had ripped away my deepest wish. So here I sit now, staring into a vast nothingness I can't be sure is in space or is in myself. So I sit here now, wondering who knows if I'm alive or dead, if I'm good or evil, if I've crossed the line, if there is hope, if there is nothing but darkness, if I'm even me. Here I sit, realizing that nobody knows. Not even myself.