What would you say, if I told you about a story so old, it predates time. A story about adventure, companionship, and blood. A story long forgotten by those who remain.
I woke one day, to the busying noises of activity, stemming from beyond my blinds. Like any practical 20 years of age fledgling, I decided to turn around and drown out the spasmatic noise.
They say the 21st century is all about technological advancement, the keys to the future, but really it's about a bunch of self-centered old men, dropping their copious amounts of money into the earth to strip it of anything valuable. Global warming, pollution, degradation of the environment, heck even all the once-flourishing species being driven to extinction. Don't even have to mention the good old dodo, now very dead.But who am I to talk, the default noise of a battered D8 ringing at the foot of my bed, to add further annoyance to this already very annoying morning.
"Damn it, can't I sleep"
Frantically lunging to turn off the annoying weather callout, now being blasted through the phone, I hit it hard, at bliss to the peace once again. As an upkept member of society, the first thing I do is check through the phone using the internet, such a beautiful thing. to see what's trending on social media. And there I was, just a few minutes ago, complaining about global warming.After a brisk search through of anything popular, I pop the phone back in place and stroll almost zombie like to the bathroom. Ready to go, I drift out the house door, embraced by noise, dark skies, and lots of rain."Got to love, good old British weather".Now, you might think why would someone, like the lashing of the rain. which I assure you, has nothing to do with being a masochist. Well, as someone brought up all my life in Britain, despite my Asian heritage and tanned skin, built with cells to defend against the long-forgotten sun. After a long time, you just forget about such privileges and little rain, is very good rain.Considering myself, as a decently fit individual, I begin pepping myself to start, the normal routine of running, pushing aside the elements blocking my path.After a long and VERY wet run, I once again see the familiar sign of home. Trice road, waiting for me to return victorious and peppered with debris gunk flung off muddy paths. I push through the last of the hurdles and arrive to the gates of my castle, my kingdom, my home. A humble four bedddroom, semi-detached house, at the end of the street, standing tall against the raging road works going on, on the adjacent road.I rushed to enter, the warmth filling my body, pouncing to the favored spot in any home for a young adult, the bathroom. Flinging off my clothes, I jump into the shower, rinsing myself of all the gunk and once more, remembering the advantages of living in a first-world country. Born as a new man from the power of heated water.And then it dawned on me, the fear and the regret, the heart ache many of the unsuspecting feel.
"Aahhh, fish, I forgot the towel again, cant anything go well"
Rushing out of the bathroom, to grab a towel, leaving a trail of humid air and water full-floor.Trying to complete this tedious task, before the fellow members of what is called a family, wake up to see me swinging around my morning glory. Leading them to once again judge me, as a child brought up with Asian heritage. But lost, to the unsuspected environment of British habit. Hey, that's just how Asian families are. If you like running around, literally as the personification of commandos. Then you do you friend.