The Fight of the Millennial. {poetry}

{photo credit: Jen Young}

{Photo credit: Jen Young}

Millennial — a single word that brings forth so much controversy. As a millennial myself, I am caught in the midst of it. Millennials are the those who were teenagers around the year 2000. There are quizzes on the internet that you can take. The one I took is called “How much of a millennial are you?” Most of the questions are about tolerance, technology, and passion. While there are a lot of wonderful things about millennials, just like with any generation, there are several reasons as to why the word millennial causes some to cringe.

My generation is a paradox to be sure. We are known for being passionate about our innate beliefs, yet apathetic about actually supporting them. Additionally, we are workaholics, yet overtly self-indulgent. We were brought up to go against the grain — to strive for greatness, yet we live too often in our dreams. I cannot speak for more than myself, but I think that the main problem is that millennials do not feel heard.

The millennial has also grown in an overwhelming transitional period of time. I won’t go into all the details here, but, if you were to turn on the news, the difference between what you see now and even just 10 years ago is staggering. That has a profound effect on a group of people that does not feel grounded. If you are a millennial, I beg you rise above the cloud of apathy, embrace a spirit of empathy, and work on taking the steps to realize your dreams instead of just dreaming.


The Fight of the Millennial

Livid with languish,

Life banishes idealism:

Bills to pay,

Food to buy,

Chores to accomplish,

Loves to forget,


Dreams to ignore.

I move through life expeditiously,

Though I remain stagnant.

I’ve been hushed too often.

Like a child being chastised,

The world has silenced me

And forced me into an

Oblivion from which I cannot escape.

I’ve been put inside a tidy box

Like a caterpillar in a chrysalis unable

To reach its full potential until it escapes

Its nature-induced prison.

I just remain.


I try to transform

Into my best self,


Judgments and preconceived notions

Keep pushing me back.


I find a way to put on the shiny coat,

Apply the makeup, and do my hair.

Maybe all of that will distract you

While I attempt to fly to new heights.


It’s not enough.

You still throw daggers laced with hate

And wait for me to plummet to my utter peril.

You turn a blind eye to my inward death.

I’m being consumed by the flames,


Your nose turns up in annoyance

At the smell of smoke.


Rescue me from this apathy.

Let them join me in a blaze of glory!

Turn streams of hope onto me.

The flames have transformed me

Into glass,


I mirror the passions that have been

Neglected in others.

If you look closely,

You can see my own.

Look deeper.

Pull me through the mirage of faces.

Help me break free of the image

That I have been forced to portray.




SeasonFaulkSeason Faulk is a 27-year-old English teacher. She is also a moderator for the Write Yourself Alive course. She has an Instagram account where she posts every day.


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