The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher
I had the such a love for Wishful Drinking when I read it. I tell most people “I love Carrie Fisher and I love Paul Simon so I don’t know how I couldn’t love it.” So that’s pretty much how I feel. But that’s about her other writing…let’s get to this book.
At this point it seems useless to talk about how much I needed Princess Leia in my life when I was young. Like so many others, she was my princess. A bad-ass, take no bull, fear no man, hanging with the guys princess. And, again, like others she meant the absolute world to me then and now.
So reading about how Carrie Fisher felt about her body and her hair and men and life while going on a roller coaster adventure she could have never imagined was really neat. I cringed with her and laughed with her and then cringed again. This writing reminded me so much of something I would write. Literally every time her poetry graced the pages I cringed and laughed at how similarly I had written about my life and loves and heartbreak and indecision.
Overall I really loved this read. My heart aches with the loss of such a beautiful and fun spirit. This is an even more important read than ever.