Too Cynical, Too Easy


I’m listening to a group of teenagers at Starbucks, talking about how much they hated the dance and why this girl is the devil and their disgust for their parents and their unparalleled disdain for biology lab.

I want to tell them that no one owes you anything. That you are more than the tragic deconstruction of life that your mouth keeps flapping about. That cynicism is too easy because it avoids the risk of embracing a broken stinking world and they’re just playing it safe by gossip-insulation and sniper-trolling. That the world is actually a horribly beautiful place where miracles exist in the dirt and people still laugh without fear and you can change something even with your twisted gnarled grubby hateful hands. You can’t know this and I won’t say it —

but I’m praying your soul is so outright disturbed by the divine that you wake up tomorrow with bleeding blessed eyeballs and find a larger reality outside yourself where you become truly you, and no longer a small version of you trying to impress your garish friends. You. Are. More.

— J.S.


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