Having Cake You Can’t Afford, Let Alone Eat
Do you remember the Golden Age when MSN Messenger reigned supreme and the pinnacle of excitement was changing your MySpace song? Back then, the only thing more thrilling than perfecting your Top 8 was being invited to that one party where you just knew you’d score a 50% backwashed, lukewarm Smirnoff Ice. We had big dreams then. We saw ourselves married, with the dog, the kid, the picket fence, and an awesome degree leading to an even more awesome job. We were going to rake in so much cash we’d be able to afford the ultimate luxury: a trip to Disneyland, Florida.
So what the hell happened?
Millennials got screwed. Sure, things are not looking great for Gen Z either, but at least they’re walking into this flaming dumpster-fire of a world with their eyes wide open. Nobody is promising them equality, affordable housing, or a planet free of catastrophic climate events. Instead, they’re being handed the cold, hard truth: renting until your 50s is a reality, and the future might look like Waterworld. Hope you like recycled pee, dudes and dudettes.
But us? We were told we were The Golden Generation—the ones who would have it all. We did everything we were told to do: got the degrees, took out the loans, worked the unpaid internships, and hustled for jobs that never paid enough for us to make rent and eat food in the same month. What did we get for it? Crippling depression, anxiety, and a side of existential dread. And the worst part? We feel guilty for complaining about it. We are the generation cursed with paralysing self-awareness, forever caught between wanting more and feeling grateful things aren’t worse. We’ve got a toxic cocktail of guilt, shame, and gratitude swirling in our brains. We know things are awful, but we’re hyper-aware that they could be more awful, so we are anxious, sad, and exhausted, forever wondering what went so wrong.
The fact is, we were sold a lie and we bought into it. So, to those who sold us this dream, I ask: What are we meant to do now? And will there be some form of compensation? I think I already know the answer to the second question, and, spoiler-alert, it’s a hard ‘no’.
We’re going to have to deal with this ourselves. The generation before us would tell us to stop whining and be grateful we aren’t being drafted. The generation after us are TikTokking their way into oblivion. So, what I say unto you, to us, The Forgotten Generation: forget the cake and forget eating it. Let’s do what we do well, and continue to make sarcastic, self-deprecating quips on the internet until the universe implodes and none of it matters anymore.
Someone pass the backwashed Smirnoff Ice.
Yours-in-Eternal-Damnitude
Shrina
Shrina is a millennial writer, trauma-informed coach, and reluctant optimist. She explores the absurdity of modern life with humour, emotional honesty, and existential dread. When not overthinking everything, she helps others navigate burnout and boundaries—usually with tea in hand and sarcasm in reserve.