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I was sure I was around 290 years old before I fell asleep, but when I woke up, I was 412.
Shared under Share alike with credit via 웨더 유니버스 (weather universe)
Today is my four-hundred-and-something birthday.
I've lived a tediously, absurdly long life.
I was sure I was around 290 before I fell asleep, but when I opened my eyes, I was 412.
Damn it — it didn't rain for several hundred years!
My only crime was being born as 'a human who only wakes when it rains' in a region that averages 5mm of rainfall a year.
I closed my eyes, opened them, and an entire generation had changed!
I threw a fit, but honestly, this is routine by now.
Blink!
Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren — all passed on (oh dear)
Blink!
Great-great-grandchildren, 5th generation, 6th generation — all passed on (good heavens)
Now... how far along am I? My 12th-generation descendants are taking care of me.
Every time I close and open my eyes, the people I cherish have vanished. There's no emptiness quite like this.
What's the point of frantically memorizing new family members' names during the few dozen minutes it rains? By the time I open my eyes again, they're all in the graveyard.
The family has always been poor, and we live in such a remote place that we can't afford to move somewhere with actual rainfall — so here I am, unable to die, just... existing.
After this many generations, not a single descendant has made it big.
Oh, woe is me!
It's these genes — my foolish, penniless genes are to blame.
Perhaps God took pity on me, because this time the rain fell on my birthday.
"Happy birthday, 12th-great-grandfather!"
"Thank you, my little rascals~!"
On a birthday I'd normally have slept right through, seeing these adorable new faces eased the bitterness just a little.
But please, this generation — make something of yourselves and let's escape this desert, descendants!