We are witness to the most conflicted generation of young adults in relevant times. We are not only conflicted but disproportionately unhappy given our circumstances.
This generation, despite being beneficiaries of better education, better jobs, better economic conditions and improved standards of living, is incapable of finding solace in their fortune.
We are plagued with low self-esteem and a sense of under achievement. We find ourselves in high paying jobs that we are not passionate about. We hold on to these jobs because they are the only means to afford the lifestyle we have been enslaved by.
These jobs pay for the international vacations you have to take to be able to grind through that job. We own cars and bikes and homes before we hit 30, a feat that took our parents decades to achieve.
Yet, these do nothing to ease our restlessness. We are in relentless pursuit of something better, without the slightest clue as to what constitutes ‘better’. We are achievers without the accompanying sense of achievement.
Maybe that’s because we want to be everything. We are the middle children of history. We all suffer from an identity crisis the origin of which we can’t seem to place. We want to be the rebel who quit his job and went travelling, the guy who went on reality TV and won, and the guy who stuck on to his job and is now a VP.
We want to be brave nomads and have monthly savings in a FD. We want relationships but remain confused about marriage. We want high end gadgets and own ridiculously expensive clothing and yet clamour against consumerism.
We want girlfriends who have sex but a wife who is a virgin. We want freedom but we want boundaries to safely express that freedom.
We are hilariously confused about what constitutes success. We are addicted to seeking everyone’s approval. We are a generation who has lost our soul to Facebook and our bodies to Instagram and our minds to Twitter.
We are incapable of believing we had fun without documenting it on Facebook and then it takes about 100 other people to approve that you did indeed have a good time. Yet, we scream from roof tops that we are not conformists.
We run away from any real responsibility, even responsibility towards ourselves. We want to be fashionably charitable and take up causes just mild enough to redeem our sense of social responsibility without actually taking up our time.
We are lost unto ourselves in a room full of directions. We need help but we will never admit it.
In an attempt to disguise the fragility of our minds we bury ourselves in mundane routines. We inherited a period of peace and prosperity that we did not fight for.
Maybe the underlying guilt that despite being so privileged, we have belittled ourselves by achieving nothing more memorable than being the generation that coined the word selfie, could be why we are so restless and deeply conflicted.