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As a child, it was my ability to judge gorgeous from ugly, and fat from skinny that illustrated to me exactly who I wanted to be when I grew up. The so typical medium height, curvy brunette with all the guys drooling over her. Essentially, a princess from one of the Disney movies my mother would allow me to watch whilst eating dinner until I decided I’d rather make a trip to Nandos. This prevalent character decides what every minor wants to become for them, dominating the so small chances of change in moral fibre of humankind, theoretically we will all have the same mindset, and only some of us will make it as competition will become ever so high; others will suffer failure to accomplish their childhood fantasies. Nevertheless, the real failure, what we truly are unable to comprehend is the idea that throughout our whole lives we are stuck in theory, unfit to commit to reality. By aspiring to dance in gowns at balls we can only envisage, a lack of effort is invested into education, to exploring, visiting countries that aren’t first on our holiday lists, to learning things they don’t teach us in school and creating innovations for the programmes kids watch whilst they grow, so that they can prepare for Harry Winston rings as a reward for achieving a first in their degree, instead of experimenting with bulimia and low self esteem first hand because they do not live the life of Sharpay Evans in high school.

For those who are concerned about the reality of life in our universe, becoming aware can never be an issue; it’s simply learning the alphabet, opposingly those who are not so appealed by the unknown, they must then remain unaware until they meet success in hope that it interests them. It is not a case of History where we as students study Henry VIII and the Great World Wars, just a system that we as citizens must explore in order to ensure that our decisions are as of the impact of our knowledge, not what the dominants of the generation would persuade us to do since they require a certain aspect of things to work accordingly for bonuses or whatever it is they look to achieve with their titles. Relatively, Assyria is not a topic we are educated about in school, and considering that ancient Greece, Rome and Latin are so significant in specific studies, it becomes somewhat offensive that we’re not seen great enough to be taught about, so it’s crucial that we reconnoitre this, unraveling the untold, they’re the kind of mysteries that don’t involve monsters or ghosts, unlike the novels we read.

Ultimately, as it is true that we strive to be prime versions of ourselves it turns out that our intentions are so conventional. From tattoos, unspoken empires, to donkeys and appearance, the truth of the matter is simple; we must investigate individuality. Disregard the techniques used to disclose information that may seem to be convenient on television or in basic lessons, focus more on what they don’t present to you, focus on what’s under the makeup.

Thereupon, it is important for me to prove to you what I really mean. Every evening when you leave work, or jump on the bus to go home after college, just after you heat up yesterdays dinner in the microwave because the idea of spending an hour on cooking a fresh meal makes you feel nauseous, the second you glance at the television screen, what is it that intrigues you? Is it that Big Bang Theory is on, or Eastenders is just starting? Or is it the bold statement on the news that Theresa May triggers article 50 in intent to speed up the brexit once again? I’m sure not, but what i’m also convinced about is that it’s never a bomb which went off in Iraq or Syria which attracts you. Maybe in France, or that one was found in Central London pre-explosion unfused, though never in countries outside Europe, reason being we’ve developed an earful of it for years now. My grandparents told me stories about their escape and they not so recently passed of old age. The point is that it’s grown so historic that the whole of the middle east is considered an unsafe war zone. In which case it is, yet 60% of it would make a better tourist attraction now than the unvarying trips us British take to Spain every summer. Who would pass on the frantic parties in Ibiza? The sex on the beach cocktails which bite on your taste buds, the ice cooling your heated blood from the sun which in its own destroys racism in unintentional virtue of melanin injections. Though is this how we define ‘fun’? Preferentially, burning sun in a small village where water is icy with daisies and wild berries floating on its surface, almost creating a detox river of infused aqua. The negligence for this sort of setting is a consequence of lack of pursuit, and in my opinion if the world was aware of this kind of display, Ibiza’s hotels would experience a severely negative cash flow, so cocktails may get cheaper...but let us not get distracted that’s off the record for now.