"Anakin!" Obi-wan called after me as I stormed out of the Council Chambers. I had just argued with the council over whether or not to support the new tax bill. I never really liked politics, particularly since I usually fall asleep after about ten minutes. "What's wrong?"
"Everything," I groaned, turning to face my former and very annoyed Master. "Everything is wrong!"
"How?" he asked me.
"I can't believe that the Jedi have come to this!" I nearly yelled. "We're supposed to be peacekeepers, not warriors! How can the council support this damn bill? We're supposed to be preventing war, not supporting it!"
"Anakin," he sighed. "None of us like participating in this war. If the bill is successful, it will end quickly."
"But, which side will win?" I questioned, crossing my arms before walking away to my quarters. I fell face-down onto my bed, pushing the whisky bottles off of the sheets. I screamed into my pillow before sitting up and knocking back an entire bottle of liquor. I knew that the Jedi weren't allowed to drink, but alcohol helps me unwind and really think. And, boy, do I need to think.
You're probably wondering what in the hells of Hoth I am talking about. Well, let me explain before you punch me in the kisser.
First of all, the Jedi are at war…and I do not like it…at all. Second, Obi-wan has been nagging me nonstop to get a Padawan. I mean, why would I need a Padawan? I'm doing just fine on my own. Thirdly, the Council has been punishing for Force-knows-what by sending me on the small, pointless missions. Fourthly…is that even a word? Anyway, Mace Windu has been being a real asshole lately. Whenever I'm late for a meeting because of something by chance, he sends me to watch younglings. And…the other day, when I missed a war briefing, he gave me a lecture about something so important that I couldn't understand it, and he spat on my face!
I think that I need to think some more…