For the Millennial Next Door

While you are young, bounce.

You have your spunk, your youth, your shiny locks of hair. Your killer of an attitude.

The world is your oyster.

If they kick you down and pull your threads apart, give them a cookie!

They are the past, and you are the future.

Hold on.


There is nothing you can't achieve if you would only gather up all your miseries on one edge of the table,

and flick it. Flick it all, into the waste bin.

You have the power to call for your own happiness.

You are spoilt, entitled, naive and sensitive.

But you are smart, intelligent, and most importantly evolving!

Is it that hard to work a Mac for your margins?

Or connect with a client over social media?


You are deserving.


However it must feel drowning in a sea of the oppressive.

There is one thing on your side--time.

Time favours the young.

Time favours you.

The Draconian Institution

The yearning to escape was strong, stronger yet than ever before.

The air reeked of pretense and injured wellbeing.

The sentences reeked of liability, sarcasm and desperation for business and economic continuity.

There was no genuineness, no motivation, no compensation for the dedication siphoned out of our blood by the draconian institution which allegedly championed the rights of others with no regard to the rights of those from within.

Help, cried the voices which never spoke and the tears which never fell;

the roars which lay stifled in this culture of darkness and depravity.

You who rescueth not.

It was like sitting on a roller-coaster and then getting stuck on it.

You don't know whether you desperately wanted the roller-coaster to continue on its terrorizing ride to the finish line, or if you would rather just be taken off the ride mid-air with a rescue crane.

It was like the person at the roller-coaster controls meant to guide you was incapacitated. She had no ability to tell you for certain if by pulling the control knob, you would end the ride in safety. She was lousy, incompetent. She blamed you for your misfortune--telling you that the roller-coaster had stopped because of things like your weight, or the way you sat in the chair.

You did not know what to do next. You sat in your seat mid-air, waiting and watching.

The world moves along day and night, sun and moon, but you sit there, your feet dangling and your heart breaking in forced patience.

You sit there day and night contemplating, was it your weight? Was it your size? Was it your seat?