My Generation.
My generation writes mail when yours writes letters but her fingers are swift and assured as she sends messages to the rest of the world.
My generation reads, on paper and on screen, while yours criticizes, because having a book is a mark of culture and appearances matter to you.
My generation listens to music while walking when yours just puts one step in front of the other, but that girl you see here, sheâs not isolated, sheâs lost in her dreams and follows the beat as she goes down the street.
My generation dances, she pops and locks when yours used to waltz, she shakes her body like thereâs no tomorrow, because she knows there might not be a tomorrow.
My generation  talks about sex because sex isnât a sin, because sex isnât a fault, because sex isnât dirty while yours still denies kids proper education.
My generation takes selfies while yours watches with disdain, she makes memories and tries to exist because sheâs lost in the multitude and feels like a grain in a castle of sand.
My generation is witty, sheâs smart, sheâs fast, sheâs funny, she makes videos and vines and yours calls that âstupidityâ.
My generation has feelings but yours has made her cynical so she does her best not to lower her expectations in a world where dreams have become overrated and principles a luxury.
My generation has got standards in a world ruled by money. She dreams of something more when yours told her all was already lost and that the green paper was more important than her health, than her love, than the Hearth.Â
My generation is generous because at night when itâs pitch dark, she writes and thinks about just how she can improve peopleâs lives and provide for free so many things, in exchange of which yours wants money: education, knowledge, therapy, informations. You see those blogs with their shiny colours? some saved lives, and some of those kids on the street are anonymous heroes your generation calls âgeeksâ.
My generation knows what a trans-person is when yours practices conversion therapies and destroyed Leelah Alcorn.
My generation cries for the Rainforest while yours is destroying it.
My generation dreams of a better world when yours killed Mike Brown.
My generation does her best to survive with what yours gave her and what a gift, yeah what a gift: global warming and unemployment, crisis and wars, people starving. Species disappearing, seas rising, snows melting, humans dying.
My generation is depressed, but she keeps fighting. Canât you see that the kids arenât alright? Canât you see the tears we cry at night?
But Iâm gonna tell you something.
My generation is her on way. Everyday, she grows stronger. We will make mistakes, we will have our tyrants, our terrorists, our ruthless bankers and corrupt cops, our racists, we will have our murderers because some children turn into adults made of stone.
But my generation will have her Mandelas, her Martin Luther Kings, her Gandhis and her Marie Curies, her Rosa Parksâ, her J.K Rowlings, her Tolkiens, her Picassos, her geniuses and genuine lovers, hopeless dreamers and daring warriors.Â
Do not spit on my generation.
Because the time is now approaching, when you will witness our moment.
My generation.
Is the future.
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
gracieabrams
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
