I have been experiencing various and increasingly intensified internal struggle for the past few weeks. To be honest with you, this is written on the eve of my birthday three days ago with nothing but pure irritation towards the world. To think that you would at least feel elated to sing Taylor Swift’s 22 and it fits your age–not necessarily applies to the situation at hand.
Unlike the happiness you feel at birthday parties, it’s more of a sadness over nothing. I’m not sad because I’m getting older. I’m sad because I can’t seem to escape the current phase of my life despite being told to get out of there as quickly as I can. I have done everything in my power to do it but I can’t seem to go.
Baby boomers–like my parents–might see this as an attempt at aggressively surfacing a nonexistent issue. Putting it mildly, it’s called making stuff up to cover the fact that my generation is a bunch of whiny incompetent young people. Well, you can’t blame them. As we are getting more advanced in everything, we have to adhere to an even more progressive way to live. The quality is staggeringly high compared to the years before my country discovers television networks (that’s 1989 for ‘ya).
The other part is that apparently, the issue exists–scientifically. The Guardian reported five years ago that British psychologists shows educated twenty and thirtysomethings most likely to be hit by pre-midlife blues. Not only we are insecure, but also depressed.
So why are we making a big deal out of this? We’re not. At least I’m not. But the fact that other people in the age of 50s calling it “being sad/hyperbolic over nothing” is just not cool, not cool.
In response to Daily Prompt, Hyperbole