You’re sitting on your mother’s couch,
Wearing your cozy and oversized pyjamas,
Stuffing popcorn into your face,
Escaping reality through TV shows.
Depressed and 29.
You should be at work,
You should be head of this, and executive of that,
However, they cut you loose.
Your glowing honours degree could not do enough to save you.
Retrenched and 29.
Your gold credit card is a door to an empty treasure chest,
Cleared of all it contained to help you survive.
Your debt is mounting higher than Kilimanjaro,
So you’re starting to wonder if you’ll come through this month alive.
Broke and 29.
Your social circle has virtually disappeared,
At least there’s one friend in your life who’s still near,
Who’s there to laugh with you and cheer you on,
All’s not lost.
Life and 29.
Your passport is unused,
You’ve never set foot outside the four walls of this country,
The high cost of exploration has always tied you down.
Untravelled and 29.
You loved him,
You were with him for five years,
Until your heart grew apart from him,
So you decided to go on the journey of purpose and destiny without him.
Single and 29.
For what were you created?
Who created you?
You’re asking these questions,
So your vision board is starting to come together,
You’re en route to becoming more of yourself.
Purpose and 29.
I think, dear millennial, that you’ve got your shit together.
* image from Pixabay.