"What are you, in love with your problems?" -No Compassion, by Talking Heads.

The above quote could easily be applied to the majority of Americans in this day and age. It seems that people view having problems as a good thing, instead of what it is: a problem. I couldn't count on one hand the number of times I've heard people say nonchalantly, 'oh yes, I have ADD/bipolar/depression/insert disorder here, I'm on like 5 different meds' or 'I don't eat, I harm myself, etc.' I don't want to stereotype, but it seems to occur more often in the younger crowd. It's one thing to admit that you have a problem, but to almost brag about it? It could make a person who isn't problem-ridden feel almost inadequate, as if they aren't normal because they are normal. Quite a paradox, but could it be true?

Not only do people love to brag about their problems, it seems to be all they can talk about. Have you ever held a conversation with someone who can only talk about how depressed they are? It happens quite often, and it's not exactly fun. Where do people get the idea that other people want to hear all about their problems and nothing else? What happened to talking about ideas and things that happened, instead of just yourself? What is most disturbing to me, is the fact that as much as these people talk about having problems and how much they absolutely despise it, they won't get help. They go on and on about how messed up they are as if it makes them superior to someone with less issues.

I'm not saying that having problems is a bad thing, because it's not. Everyone has issues that they have to deal with, but to put your issues on a pedestal for anyone to see is a different story. Since when did it become cool to have problems? I'm sorry, but last time I checked, being a drug addict wasn't something to brag about. Just another example of how society is declining as it advances, I suppose.

And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're going through

David Bowie - Changes

I was born the week before John Lennon was shot on his doorstep, and just after my country elected a movie star as President. Punk music was born and immediately died the year I was born. The heaviest heartbeat in rock and roll stopped, and we were left Back in Black. I am the first wave of "Generation Y." Why Y? I do not even know. Perhaps those riding the great wheel in the sky had the foresight to know the perfect point for which a collective would be left with no answers - but only questions as to why we have inherited this cancer of a planet.

My generation can't afford our education with the piss-poor incomes we receive. My generation's Wizard of Oz is not an innocuous film; we have a real life land of smoke and mirrors for which we've been left to shoulder. A corporation is a " person" just like me in the eyes of the law. My generation doesn't know about upward mobility, just lateral hierarchal cluster-fucks of nothingness.

We are motivated by money that isn't even real to buy goods and services we're taught to need because the apex of diminishing returns is but a spec in the rearview mirrors of our automobiles that are systematically designed to wear-out.

Video Killed the Radio Star before we learned that soul doesn't come in the form of Disney cut-outs and ambiguously effeminate boys. And that's some soul we could use, since most of ours have died in the Cold War, Iraq, Afghanistan... Iraq again. Oh no, I think my polio vaccine left me with autism! At least that diminishes my chances of getting herpes, AIDS, the clap or HPV. Not that I'd be getting laid anyway, since I'm too poor to afford the amount of American piss beer required to "socialize" with an almost less-plastic version of a Real Doll.

When I go out, there are at any given moment, more people typing on their iPhone (or equivalent) than speaking face-to-face. At least a quieter bar provides me a scintilla of catharsis via the internet jukebox. If you can't beat 'em, nor join 'em, at least honest Abe will subject fellow patrons to South of Heaven a few times in a row. Then I can go back to my apartment and fulfill my needs by watching unattractive people have sex in unnatural positions where the guys dick is always bigger than mine and the female orgasm is a myth.

So yes, I'm depressed; hell, I'm just pretty pissed in general. My generation is backed into a corner, albeit a transitional corner. So, we take drugs. And we talk about it. We've heard what love and happiness are, and sometimes chemicals allow us a closer view into that alleged zone of "pleasure."

But please do, by all means, continue to stereotype the collective regarding mental health issues. That's a good first step in making progress; and though I cannot empathize with the elders' casual disdain, I'm sure I speak for my entire generation by wanting help you tolerate our 3rd party musings more effectively.

Finally, and most importantly, don't forget to berate the younger generations even further. It's an absurd notion that the defectives abide by what major pharmaceutical companies have told family doctors to tell these children's parents what to do so as to rectify what's perpetually and invariably wrong with them.

Valium tastes like home.

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