Back when the glamour of mythological tales prevailed, the concept of boons and curses was regarded with high austerity. The concept was fairly simple. Have you been a model human being? Tried and tested to redefine your life to represent the best version of yourself? Or have you recklessly wandered to the other end of the spectrum? A concept as unadulterated and pure as two plus two equals four. Enough to enforce discipline and empathy within the person so much so that it becomes intrinsic for survival.
What does the world think like today? Do we seek solace and refinement in the nuances of emotions that flow through us when we've been tirelessly productive? Or do we cast aside the notion of hard earned gratification entirely for instant rewards because there's more from where that came from? As a freshly branded millenial dancing on the sidelines of this internal struggle inflicting my generation, I testify to confirm the latter. I believe it isn't that hard to imagine. 7.7 billion people manning a floating blue orb in space. 7.7 billion people trying to have it all, be it another shiny new toy to manifest from the collective conscious or an idea that could and would propel civilization to scale new heights.
The transition from less convenient times must have been a thing of beauty.
New ideas being churned out everyday and thrown to the hungry masses. The greatness and simplicity of said ideas being devoured by a generation that snapped and how. Could you imagine the effect of a surging power born of unprecedented scientific mettle that tended to every need and want? The truth is that we were born and raised in the midst of it that all our senses stand desensitised to the implications of such brilliance.
The implication that spending an hour out in the early morning sunshine would be less palatable than say, assailing our ears to angry fantastical music to simulate a revolution in the 15 minutes that we have allotted a day to physical fitness. Or the implication that running into friends and following through with last minute plans is not as suave as the little yellow thumbnails flagging our forlorn little calendars with appointments. It's said that we are an angry generation. We don't look it but it's there. The anger of a generation caught up in the struggles of it's own making. We crave imbalance, glory, war even. But only a war that lasts no longer than a time of our own choosing.
Happiness today is as stale and artificial as cold containers of chinese takeout. It is finding temporary comfort in retreating to relatable spaces on our phones all day and craving human contact at 2.30 am in the night. It is finding nostalgic warmth in old 90s movies while curling up with nothing but the sorrows of a lonely mechanical life. It is dreaming of cold drinks and spagetthi straps on sandy beaches in a past life while going through a real summer plagued by extra credit and internships. It is clawing at the newest idea that is going to make life so much more easier in a way we didn't think we needed before. And more so, it is looking out windows with tears brimming and thinking of all the things to say but no means to say it. We are a generation that is on the run. Running to be happy. Running to survive. Running to salvage peace. But unwilling to put in the time to cultivate a life tailored to our peace. Every semblance of happiness is connected to the workings of a popularity algorithm that our gadgets convince us we need desperately.
Maybe we are beginning to realise the truth behind these fabrications. Perhaps when we perceive the shift in our moods on receiving validation from voices other than our own. When we stop for a few seconds in a street choking in smoke and sweat on an overcast day. But the curse lives on. Impersonating a carousel that spits out rush hours, heartbreaks and wrinkles. I wish I knew when it would lift.