there’s something profound about being part of a generation of temporariness, of being raised and taught that nothing lasts; that everything changes all too quickly while staying the same somehow; that perhaps no matter what you do it’s all doomed; that you have to keep living and living and– is there a future? is there a present? is anyone living?

so you scrape, you claw for any attachments, any connections, maybe you have them or maybe you lost them. maybe there was never a time you had them and you want so badly to have them.

change should be comforting. we’re taught everything is rigid and a material construct and to obey authority and to believe in perfection. we can’t get anything wrong. we are the ones who aren’t allowed to change and it seems like all the grownups change constantly, everyone else is in that state of flux, but we’re supposed to–

everyone has trauma. everyone has scars. everyone feels like there’s a box they were forced to fit into. everyone feels powerless.

nothing lasts and we’ve learned all the wrong ways - that only some things can change and others are to be left untouched. i think everything changes, the good and bad and everything in between. the pendulum swings from one side to the other. things must be hitting a breaking point. at the same time it’s always been inching towards this slowly, towards some grand conclusion we think should exist, but time goes on, and you go on.

we’re taught to throw away everything we use.

are we too to be thrown away?