Untitled

Thought of this while I was in bed this morning. Prose, but short so I tagged it as a poem. The speaker here is experiencing what I guess you'd call the opposite of an existential crisis.

The generation of passion is over, I think.

...And what I mean is that, now, we don’t really have a cause. We’re not necessarily nihilistic, or existentialist or whatever. We just are, I suppose.

I mean, sure... there are always activists out there: the animal-lovers and the tree huggers and the like. But most of us aren’t like that, right? I think most of us would rather just shrug our shoulders and keep on watching our TV shows (some of which are really good these days).

...Call it disillusioned or disenfranchised or whatever... I think ours is the generation of complete apathy.

Or maybe that’s just me. ...Then again I don’t really care.

Author's Note

Too preachy? I don't like things that are preachy. It's not meant to be my own opinions--just an experiment in prose or monologue or whatever you'd call this.