Millennial Rage: Not a Love Note, A Call to Arms.
I want to live in “precedented times” just once.
I am 30. I have less than £3000 in savings. I rent my home from a very reasonable landlord. I have a Masters degree from an internationally acclaimed business school.
Millennials have been through no less than 10 “once in a lifetime” disasters in the form of terrorist attacks, the mishandling of resources by a government that does not represent my beliefs, ongoing wars that are essentially dick-swinging contests between middle-aged white men who are out of touch with reality and then a pandemic possibly caused by the undeniably tempting intrusive thought of one human to eat an undercooked bat.
At school, we were told that knuckling down and getting the best grades would inevitably lead to our white picket fence, our manageable job related to our degree, and our modest family holidays to the Costa Del Sol once a year. I come from a lower-income, divorced home — my expectations for my future weren’t lofty. But whilst Millennials were being fed lies *someone* (looking at you, boomers.) was raising house prices, breaking the economy, ravaging the planet for resources to line the pockets of the pedophilic corporate elite.
Not a single day in our lives has been precedented times. It’s been one disaster after another, all whilst being reassured that we also could have it all. And by it all, I mean we wouldn’t be stuck in a dystopian nightmare hellscape where our nans keep dying in the Winter because it’s too expensive to flick the heating on for 20 minutes, or the average family could afford to eat more than one meal a day.
Old ways do not open new doors. We need change. We need to harness this collective anger and form a revolution. It’s time. We’re not kids anymore.