The Life of An Angsty Twenty-Something

I am so tired of seeing the same person in the mirror every day
Roof over my head? Check.
Water and food? Check.
Family? Check.
Healthy? Check.
Stable boyfriend? Check.
Check. Check. Check.
Why does it not seem like enough...
It is because I am an angsty twenty-something
See, we were raised during an interesting time when flip phones were a luxury in the eighth grade
And MSN Messenger was the way to communicate
Now, do people even communicate?
There was a time when jobs were a tad easier to find
Now we sit in a lukewarm pool of our depression and sulk over the youth unemployment rate
We believe in nothing, no god to save us, no future for the earth's creatures and plants
We just wait for the sun to devour our planet and for the oceans to flood all the major cities like it does in the movies, a modern day tale of Noah
We are pessimists, us twenty-somethings
What do we believe in?
We don't believe in love
Love is oppression! Love does not comply with our overly liberal outlook that says: with our bodies, we do as we please
We live in an era where we can smoke, drink, and party (this includes the fairer sex)
Love is a sign of weakness: it means we are not fully free, because our bodies are confined to the touch of a single person, and in this fleshy jail we can't "do as we please"
THUS
We do not believe in love.
We don't believe in god, or the future, or in love
This is the apocalypse! We are roaming without purpose, like bodies raised from the dead
Unable to come to terms with the zombie in the mirror

Comments

Happiness is Pink Jellybeans

Happiness is jumping in a pool of pink jellybeans Feeling the cool candy on my skin Happiness is enjoying the pleasures of life Without worrying about confessing my sins Whoever said that we are gluttons For biting juicy pears on the beach Must never have felt the sand in their toes They must have placed their own soul out of reach And what about greed? It's not all that bad To bury a pile of chestnuts for the spring All animals do it, so why shouldn't we? If it's greedy to love yourself, let it be Lust is the one that makes pastors blush Yet it's one of the greatest joys in the body A kiss and a dance, laughter and romance Why did we ever label this happiness as naughty? Have you ever seen a cat sad when it naps? It is okay to sometimes be lazy The body needs rest as does the mind Or the world will set fire from the crazy If happiness is a sin, then let me smile in hell Looking up at the do-gooders above For to live is to err, to cry, and to sing Happiness is pink jell...

Love From Afar

Some people are in our lives Meant to be loved from a distance There's nothing wrong with that It's just that we're too different Or perhaps even too alike Two north poles repelling each other A couple of lone wolves mingling A dog barking at its own reflection The same blood runs through our veins But we are not meant to know each other We're just meant to co-exist On the same planet, but ignorant of the other A colourful scaled fish roaming the seas While a spider sits in its web in a barn One wholly unaware of the other But needing the other in some way For earth to reach an equilibrium Not everything is meant to be held forever Some things are meant to be let go Like the old school pencils at the bottom of the drawer Or the Barbie dolls in the back of the closet They're loved, but loved at a distance Admired from afar

Humble

Remember the days we feared the gods? Neither do I, or maybe we just forgot I think we need a little superstition To quell our aching ambition We need to honour the moon and sun Just as the cavemen had done To find awe in the things all 'round Before we jumped in tech and drowned If we were to hunt our next meal We'd starve collectively, I feel Because we're even too cowardly to look In the beast's eyes whose lives we took It's simply sliced and put on display In a supermarket on the way Yes, we need to get back to our roots Take off our socks and high heel boots It's okay to feel a little scared It is how our ancestors fared Life shouldn't be riding on a cloud Idle hands make the devil proud So when you dwell into the woods Don't forget that the gods are not all good They teach us lessons as we preen Gluing our eyes to our phone screen If you're famous and if you're clever Doesn't mean you'll live forever We may be great, but there's...

Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Search This Blog