Living Life
“Live your life and do what makes you happy”. Those were the last words my mother ever uttered to me. Well, the second from last ones (I couldn’t make out the very last ones but they sounded like breast reduction information, which seemed like a weird thing to say and hardly priority: the thing is, you see, despite how it happens in films, you really can’t understand what someone who is literally dying is trying to say. Apart from the fact that they are annoyingly quiet, not their fault of course, you’re feeling quite upset and it’s hard to concentrate).
So I did as she said. I donned my Darth Vader outfit and started living my life as Darth Vader. Our family had always been big on Star Wars, so it just seemed like the right thing to do.
I never really had any problems with children mocking me. 1) I looked frightening and 2) I looked unapproachable, which suited me fine in my state of mourning. The only problem which was a nuisance was getting the bus: as fantastic as Darth Vader’s wardrobe designers were, they really didn’t think much about small pockets which would be ideal for storing loose change.
Another issue I had was going to the toilet. In order to do this it took as long as twenty minutes to remove the clothing / armor. This meant that I had to make a good guess as to when I would require a toilet stop. But still, it was worth it. If only mum could see me now.
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