It’s hard to explain, in detail, the full spectrum of emotions one faces when forced to confront the innermost demons that threaten a man’s sanity, hastening him to conceal the pain by means of a turbulent vice. A laps of some time has overcome me, in that I realize over two months have passed since my last entry pertaining to this work in progress known as the Death Star. But time, I assure, has not only allowed me to regroup and re-organize myself into the Moff I was destined to be, but also expounding upon the troubled man fighting to get out.
Anxiety finally overcame me, as did a certain measure of fear, as I had come to realize the enormous task presented to me, compounded with the responsibility of governing a fleet of sizable proportions and the want of completing the work ahead of me on such a drastic schedule. My wife had left me…and, so far as I could see, the machine was beginning to tear itself apart, with regards to the continual problems amounted by indigent sects of storm troopers. My anger,.. my loathing for these soldiers,.. my terrible state of paranoia outweighed my reasoning. I found solace in the bottle. So much so that it clouded all reality for me and forced me into a suicidal state that nearly overtook me. I had nothig. I was nothing. I succumbed to my own solitude, regressing to my quarters unfit to be seen, laying for days naked among my bodily waste as my hygiene continued to deteriorate.
I was spared, however, and rushed to a rehab center designed especially for ranking officers within the Empire. It was here that I was destined to spend the next eight weeks purging my body of the poisonous toxins that had shortly maintained a grip on my soul, and coming to terms within myself allowing me to begin restructuring this broken man back into the leader he needed to be.
For all the tragedy endured in my process and the physical withdrawals that plagued my recovery, if it had not been for the emotional support I received from Spencer I would never have made it. Having grown apart so many years ago as time and careers tend to separate even the best of friends, Spencer and I had trained together as new cadets in the army of the republic before the emergence of the empire. We shared a bond, though it was a bond of brothers, and one we had hoped would never be broken. Towards the end of our training, we overtook a scenario mission, only venturing to the moons of Neberos for two days, but we allowed feelings to pursued our actions. We were both so young and saw in each other a spark of magnetism. The words exchanged between us regarding our feelings later caused a note of uncertainty and we bade each other to forget the weekend. We graduated. Spencer and I both moved on and both married not to see or hear from one another for years,.. until now. Word had reached him of my condition, and Spencer was first to arrive to see me through the process.
We spoke of old times. At my worst moments there in the beginning of treatment he would cheer me up with juvenile stories of our past adventures in school. We laughed and roused about the Nebros Moons.It was here that we reaffirmed our friendship which was sealed properly amongst ourselves during the fifth week of my stay. I fear that I may go too far in my narrative with concerns of my own personal privacy, however, what may be known is that, although uncomfortable right now, I'm sure these feelings will find their rightful place among me. Spencer, meanwhile, has returned to his wife. He has asked for time, so that he may approach her when he feels she may be strong enough to bear it and explain his feelings concerning the situation. I look forward to his return, but for now,.. it’s back to business as usual. Back to dealing with those fu#^ing NIGS.