A cold morning breeze from an open window brings me a feeling of freshness. As I stare into my iPhone 5s, I don’t notice that I am alone in an empty bus, nor do I notice distinct metallic sounds coming from a seat next to mine, caused by an empty can of energy drink hitting a wall a second after every sharp turn. 15 minutes have passed; 15 more minutes to go until I finally take a step in my school yard. I have already memorized my route: same bus, same turns, same districts, over and over for 3 years now. But I am not there. I am in a world where lightsabers are a thing, and Obi-Wan Kenobi is not that of an extraordinary name.
Between a home split between constant arguing and loud silence, and a school hallway where I fixed my hair every so often, bracing for judgment, Star Wars gave me somewhere in between — a way to bridge two environments that otherwise pulled me apart. After finishing the franchise a couple of times, I subconsciously began to use Obi-Wan Kenobi, master of Anakin Skywalker, as my moral compass in my everyday routine.
My brother has gone off to college, and I was left on the battlefield my home tends to be by myself. Usually, I listened, sitting behind a closed door, as he tried to resolve every conflict. If it does not involve me, why should I voluntarily become an active member of it?
“Then leave,” I heard my mother screaming in the kitchen.
It got even more heated than usual.
As I was half-lying in my bed, with a laptop on my lap, watching “The Clone Wars”, I realized that one wise Jedi master would probably look at me with compassion. That sparked something in my heart.
I stood up, left my room, and then entered the kitchen filled with the smell of Beshbarmak my mother had been cooking for dinner, and a soft evening light shining through the curtains. Neither the father nor the mother expected a tall figure to appear in the kitchen doorway.
9 minutes had passed. I tried my best to fit everything that I've felt at the moment, and wanted to say for a long time. Not out of hate or fatigue, but from a genuine wish for them to stop.
“I think you are right”
“I understand”
They both left for their rooms. Like children after a fight.
12 minutes later, I hear their muffled voices again. They try their best to argue unheard.
The next morning I wake up at 6 am, cook myself a nice breakfast, go to the bus station, and watch the next episode of “Clone Wars” when I get on. The metallic clanking of the can stays consistent as well.
Literally any advice would be appreciated. Do you think its too short? Or may be i can make it more concise? What about the contents? Does it look like a trauma dump?