being a gen z teenager is like. everything is unfair. i am poison. i am acid. i am knives and broken glass. everyone fucking hates eachother and everyone fucking hates me. i have school in the morning where all the people there fucking suck. except my friends. i love my friends. i love them so much i'd die for them. no one matters like they do. i dont care about my family. now that you mention them did i ever tell you about the time they screamed at and threw water on me because i was too quiet? because i dared to exist, as a clumsy child? those scars still marr me to this day. they ache with every second. i have become bitter and jaded. pain is. a reminder we are still alive. still breathing. still fighting. if im lucky enough to outgrow it, i swear never to forget it. i will honour it, let it grow like a tumour that rests inside my stomach. tonight i think about them as i feel like my intestines are being pulled from my mouth like a circus trick. i have school in the morning.
i wake up and watch someone's mother get snatched away by ice on tiktok.com. that person is my age, on their way to school, like me. i get told i am lucky. lucky to live here. lucky to have an education. lucky to be alive in this world. i am then send off to my lesson where i am told where to go what to do when to do it. i am dressed up and carted around like property. i tell a relative "that's racist" and they avoid me like my opinions on blood clash with their crisp white dinnertime tablecloth. i am being abused behind closed doors, and i am not shy with saying this. i will tell them. i will tell my friends. i will tell that teacher. i will tell you. you will laugh it off. "i'm sure they still love you." you will say. i will feel a piece of my love for you die in that moment. you wonder how the world can be burning and only you can see it. only you want to do something about it. the world is burning and my classmates talk about some bitch on snapchat. the world is burning. i open my phone and scroll. thousands die in europe's latest heatwave. tips for staying cool this summer! another missing in migrant detention camps. refreshing summer salad recipe. child dies of mysterious heart attack. covid infections are rising again. the ceasefire hasn't stopped a mother in Palestine bleeding her last seconds into dust. i have lunch to get, meetings to be in, careers conferences to attend. i sit on a zoom call and pretend i have a future. indulge. fantasise. my generation gets so little of it now. i lie awake and imagine a world where we win. i have school in the morning.
i scroll. negotiations still underway. workers in Germany banned from calling in sick. schoolchildren given free food to curb pre-lunch hunger americans say gas prices are rising. new mysterious virus leaves five already in hospital. thousands of Iranians dead. i scroll carefully. i pick my poison. i sign the petition that won't do anything. it's pointless. it's so fucking pointless. i will not fix the world. i will only break my hands trying, and get told i don't qualify for disability benefits from the state. i'm so fucking tired. i don't know anyone who isn't. we will never buy a house ever. i do not want to be stuck here forever. if the world ends tomorrow, will this have been a life worth living? should i have created more? spent less time doomscrolling? spent more time with my friends? told them i love them? been brave enough to move out? believed in the future? fought harder to defeat doomsday? i can't even vote. what can i do? what can i do? i march my feet raw i read articles i stay informed i practise mindfulness. it's pointless. it's so fucking pointless.
i have school in the morning. i am going to see my friends, and we are going to eat lunch on the field in the sun, and put all our food in the middle, and share it out - save extra of the chocolate for her, those sweets have gelatin! we joke that this is communist utopia, i say that we have a long way to go before we're anywhere near there. it's the first time in a while i've believed in a journey. it's the first time days have existed in a sequence. i dig out the old playlist i valiantly titled bittersweet victory at twelve years old. when i believed in victory. i am seventeen and running out of hope. but we laugh. but we play. but we tumble around on the grass. we promise to do this again. we drive away from the gates, arms outstretched to catch the wind. out comes the sun, just for us.
