The Pathetic Apathy of My Generation

I left the damp depression that was outside and walked into the hallway, slamming the door after me. Just to see what would happen. I took off my shoes and threw them at the wall, knowing my mother was behind it. The dark dents speckled the fading surface from all the abuse over the past year. I went into the kitchen to prepare a sandwich with bright white bread and a slimy, grey slice of – what they call – ham; and a nutritious drip for mother. Laden with goodies, I walked to the sagging doorway of the living room and considered what word I would choose today. After a moment’s deliberation I kicked the door open turned to the drooping, black-eyed face of my mother and screamed ‘CUNT!’ Just to see what would happen. Nothing happened. Nothing ever happened, she just stared at the inside of her retinas and dribbled every now and then. Dribble that I wiped off her face. 

I coughed loudly as I inserted the IV, nothing. Not even a twitch, so I burped in her face, she always hated that. On that I left the room went to the kitchen and got the other sack of clear, nutritional liquid and made my way upstairs. His door was open as usual, that morning he’d been sitting by the curtained window, aimlessly staring through blackened eyes. I found him lying on his bed, still staring. That’s the thing with the young ones: they’re still able to snap out of it, their minds are still free to roam, and they still have other desires, for now. At least I don’t have to change him, yet. I sorted him with his dinner that should last the next 12 hours and went into my room.

I grew up in a time where everything was wrong, but it always seemed ok. There was a triple-dip recession and we were encouraged to spend, spend, spend. I lived through an illegal war that lasted over a decade and never heard a bomb, saw a gun or even knew anyone that died. Everything wrong was kept at arm’s length. Despite this, there used to be something beautiful about my generation, something magic, a kind of restless demand for change. We were waking up to a gloriously bright new day of technological advances and worldwide communication. The wrongs of so many world leaders were exposed and made available to everyone. Finally there was a chance of a global awareness; finally the power was being given back to the people. We were the first generation who could really make a difference. But we didn’t, an overwhelmingly pathetic apathy also gripped us; nobody did anything, the government quashed the few rebellions and everyone else was too comfortable to change. Boys ended up wanking themselves out of reality which left the girls to obsess over there figures so much that they starved themselves into submission. It was about 10 years ago, when I was 19, everything changed. The freedom of the Internet became a thing of the past; the ‘powers that be’ had finally managed to police it. And now, for a yearly fee, you can have all the porn and celebrity nonsense streamed ad-free, directly into your head. No need to move, ever again; as long as there’s people like me about to look after them, people who like being able to use all their senses; even if it is only to perceive the grey, cement prison that life in the ‘Free World’ has become. But without us, people would just watch and watch the insides of their own eyes until they wasted away leaving nothing but a sad, lonely memory of the human race.


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