My personal polluted sanctuary

I left the hotel room I was staying in pretty early, but it was quite dark outside once I finished taking all those short-cuts and narrow Streets to reach the main road by the sea.

It felt so weird walking around London's streets again, yet their familiarity made me feel safe, secure. I've passed through them more than enough times to memorize every little detail.

I walked fast. I wasn't really thinking where I was going, I wasn't paying attention but much rather was lost in my thoughts. My legs kept me going, as I've walked this exact same path hundreds of thousands of times.

Old memories laid forgotten in my mind that seemed to awaken as I got closer and closer to my destination.

Actually no, I don't have a destination, I am a careless tourist here. I used to be interested in the city I grew up, but not being able to see how the world worked and function was what made me think how wonderful London was. After two years of coming back and living here, all I've been reading is articles about lung diseases.

"Pollution of the city is a highly big factor feeding your symptoms."

"The examination test results suggests pneumonia."

"Pick up at least two inhalers and come back in a week to get tested for asthma."

And before I knew it, I was constantly getting different prescriptions of strange medicine to pick up.

And then things escalated quickly.

I felt so broken, carrying around a bunch of inhalers, always researching about exotic diseases, and just generally being so paranoid about anything and everything. My chest hurt a little too much for a little too long one day? It’s probably Pleural Effusion. I scratched myself and the new-born wound is dripping blood? I'll probably bleed out and die, and so forth.

I was always worried about something being wrong with me. I’ve always had a gut feeling and a thought in the back of my brain reminding me that I’m not normal. I’m not healthy.

But I still can't believe I've returned to the place I once despised. All of the bottled-up anger, all of the sadness and pain I went through alone, have yet to fade away.

I looked around me.

I was almost at the Greenland Surrey Quays Pier.

"Heh..."

I used to hang out by myself here. The waves of the sea inspired me to be poetic and create worthless pieces of “art”. I know it’s a ferry terminal, but I couldn’t help but stay around the area and write silly tunes or poems on my notebook

I placed my hands onto the railings, and leaned against them.

I've thought before about jumping in. Letting the water quite down my thoughts, and let it take me to who knows where. I just wanted to find an escape from reality. But then again, jumping into the train tracks would have been a much quicker death. Thank God for those barriers. If I hadn't knocked some sense into myself while I was trying to get over them, I would centrally not be here right now. But I guess, they aren't that hard to get over, that's why so many people were announced in the news reports and the newspapers dead. And it's not like that was a rare thing either, it's not like every night there wouldn't be someone lurking around the tube line, waiting for the golden opportunity, waiting for the ticket to exit this world.

I sighed. Remembering all of the workers that had to wait an extra 20 minutes to clean up everything makes me feel disgusted. Heartless people, fucking straight up emotionless. They were numb to whatever was happening around them. Even the other people that were waiting for the train, were having little to no reaction to all the bloodshed. Some of them have probably ended up like the ones they once turned a blind eye to.

I looked at my phone, the bright screen burned my eyes. It was around 10:23 pm. But I also had a notification? It was Harvey, a good pal of mine. We went to have dinner today. He had sent me something. It was a picture of myself taken not too long ago.

"What the hell(?)"

I looked to the left just to see a brunet man explode with laughter. He was always known to be a silly and cheerful soul.

"You bastard, you scared the fuck out of me."

I walked with a slight smile over to the other, who was struggling to breath from all the laughing.

"What are you even doing out here big man?"

"I knew you'd be around here, and I really didn't want to stay at home, so yeah."

I chuckled, “You really know me way too well, huh(?).”

After the fit of giggles died down, Harvey spoke up again.

"So, uh, what are you doing(?)"

"Nothing in particular, just taking in waves of nostalgia. Remembering the old times, y’ know(?)"

"Oh. I guess that’s fair."

I turned away from the shorter and went over to the railings again. Harvey followed after me, and we kind of just sat in silence.

"Hey, um, are you doing alright now that you’re back?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Do you miss living in London?"

I snapped out of my thoughts.

"What?"

"Do you miss London? If it wasn't as polluted, would you have stayed?"

…

If it wasn't unsafe, would I have stayed?

"I don't know. Maybe"

Harvey nodded.

"Why are you asking?"

“I don’t know, just worried about you man.”

I looked over the sea, with my gaze landing upon the Aragon tower.

“Harv, you’ve eaten anything for dinner(?)”

“Oh no, I’ve not. I’m pretty hungry actually.”

“Good, there’s a small cozy tavern nearby. What d’ you say(?)”

“You know me, of course(!)”

I motioned for the shorter man to follow me.

Walking down the street, I allowed my mind to wonder off and gat me lost in my own thoughts again.

I guess living in London can be hard, when you have a lung disease, but letting that stop you from enjoying the good things in life is the real battle you’ll have win.