A lot of us thought we'd pull through and end up as somebody remarkable or appreciated by others. We knew our direction, circumstances, and insignificance indicated an alternative outcome, but that didn't matter as we were young and full of dreams. Regardless, as we consumed media, we kind of figured the world offered it; our parents just didn't see that. All we had to do was buy a few things, change our image, and we would get there. We thought we would find them too, the partner who would complete us by satisfying every ounce of our soul with love. We even believed we could conquer the universe, especially on those late nights as we looked towards the night sky, feeling the vibe of possibility, thinking of the future that is sure to come. But that night sky doesn't look the same anymore as we drag our bodies through the hopeless streets to begin our night shift or end the workday for the next forty-five years. Those stars don't inspire us like they once did. If anything, they symbolise our imprisonment here. They twinkle with the dying light of what we foolishly envisioned. Our parents were right, and we're just like them now; lost, confused, trying our best to survive without any guidance - bar the advertisements trying to sell us gimmicks to help fill the internal void swallowing us inside out like the groove in our loungeroom couch or computer chair. Because we thought we would be somebody great and endlessly in love.
