it’s been 3 months since Carrie died. and i was thinking today, it’s sort of… it’s comforting to know that she was happy with her life. she was writing, publishing a new book. she was doing tv. she was doing movies. she was doing star wars again. like, you could see she was in a good place. she stole the spotlight during the promotion for tfa and she was going to do it again for tlj. she “shocked” everyone by announcing she had an affair with harrison ford 40 years ago, and she wrote a book on it. she didn’t give a fuck. she did campaign against trump and she told people to go fuck themselves; she congratulated a pregnant interviewer on the sex; she told ellen degeneres she was open to dating an oxford professor; she showed an interviewer the middle finger after he said anyone would look good sitting beside jabba the hutt; she joked about how other people’s opinions on her appearance hurt 3 of her feelings even tho she was hurt by it; she wanted to move to the uk bc she didn’t want to live in the same country as trump; she threw a birthday party at a hotel in italy at 2am and the cops showed up at 5am to stop the party; she was strong, and she was honest, and she was brave.
it’s comforting to know what a thrill her life was, and that she still lived it intensely. but it’s also so fucking unfair exactly because of that. it was too soon.