If you thought that being a millennial was as easy as wearing pink and mastering the time-honoured art of emoji storytelling, you’d be wrong.
Being a millennial is tough. For starters, not being able to afford a house and spending 10 years at uni to get a job is a drag. But you’d have to walk a mile in our light-up, bedazzled sneakers to know what it’s truly like to be born between 1982 and 2004.
Imagine being able to have all the trivial things you’ve ever wanted, at the push of a button. If you want to get there sooner, you Uber. If you want some treats, you UberEATS. If you want validation outside of your fam, turn to Instagram. If you want relatives to quit it with the biological clock reminder, you Tinder/Bumble/Grindr. And just like that, you’ve got everything. Well, except for maybe the ability to own property, true connections with real people and self-respect.
To be perfectly honest I get a little sick of the constant barraging against Millennials at the hands of older generations. Mostly because their uninformed, preachy ramblings really grind my gears. That’s why I’ve decided to confess to all matter of sins that fellow millennials can seriously relate to.
I Bailey, being of sound mind and OK body, confess the following:
“I’ll know I’m an adult when I stop asking my parents for money. I bet everyone puts off self-growth until their ’30s anyway.”
Experts will tell you that our parents are to blame for our current lack of satisfaction. My parents bolstered my self-esteem by constantly telling me I’m fantastic AND they gave me every opportunity I could ever dream of. Geez, thanks a lot mum and dad. As a result, I need constant validation from my folks. It’s terribly co-dependent, but hey, they created the monster.
Confessions of the social kind
“You just staying in this Friday night?”
“Yeah but I’ve got an assortment of mirror selfies from the clubs I’ve been to, so I think I’ll just post one to Instagram, so no one knows I’m home alone.”
Social media has created a real trend of social superficiality. More often than not I’ll stalk someone’s Instagram profile rather than call or message them to see how they are.
But Instagram profiles are a really accurate reflection of someone’s mental health, right?…so I bet I’m still a good friend.
Confessions of the romantic variety
“I think we’re exclusive, I mean we’ve been dating for six months now. But I don’t want to seem needy, so I haven’t asked him outright.”
We Millennials may speak with conviction, but really we’re plagued with the curse of having too many options. Ever tried ordering food at La Porchetta? No, why would you? Aside from the fact that it’s a mediocre franchise, it’s impossible to decide on just one thing when the menu is so damn extensive. It’s anxiety mongering, and usually, you spend the whole time wondering whether you should have ordered something else. Thanks to sick apps like Tinder, the dating world is now a La Porchetta restaurant.
When you do finally settle on someone, the challenge isn’t over. I was once dumped for being ‘too marriage material,’ which was just really bizarre because I was 20, unemployed and uninterested. Lesson learnt, don’t let your significant other think you like them.
“Are employee snacks subsidised?”
I’ve been told I can have it all, so therefore I want it all. Not satisfied with just the one career, I’m determined to be a slash girl. The problem is, I thought I’d have infinite fingers to put in infinite pies but sadly, I’ve just got 10 fingers and no time to bake.
On the long road ahead that leads to ‘working for myself’, there are a few very important pit stops. And they’re called ‘working for other people’. That’s where we really see the millennial monster in full swing. I’ve often found myself complaining that “eight hours is a really long time to be at work,” and “data entry can be kind of dull.” I blame the whole wave of ‘renaming’ that goes on nowadays. Groups are now collectives, unemployed people are now ‘life coaches’, and a sandwich is now a ‘gourmet focaccia’. And because work is now a passion, career, or a calling, it’s lost its traditional meaning.
“I just looked on WebMD, and wow there are a lot of terminal illnesses that include headaches and nausea as a symptom.”
I smoke, drink, avoid sleep, lounge on the couch and live off cereal. But I have a coconut water and do some yoga somewhere in between so as they say, my body is a temple.
Sadly, we as a generation will most likely be remembered for Spice Girls, the economic growth of activewear retailers, selfies and desperate attempts for YouTube fame.
But there’s a lot of good underneath our soft, un-calloused skin. We’re idealistic and full of conspiracy theories that we’re just dying to bore you with. So please don’t crush our souls by being too harsh. We’re bound to stop competing with the sun for the centre of the galaxy at some point.