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Confessions of an Honest Young Adult


Hey y'all,


So I interact a lot with Gen-Z.


And I love them. They're fascinating, passionate, complex, and largely misunderstood by the generations ahead of them. (All the Gen-Z subscribers just went "AYO, YES.")


But I digress.


Over the years, I've logged thousands of hours talking with them about the easy things, the hard things, and everything in between. My only strategy has been honesty from the get-go. And this has resulted in the privilege of getting to know them, unmasked.

Here's what I've learned:

Gen-Z is honest,

when you give them a reason to trust you.


I've noticed, however, that in place of trust, what often exists between this generation and its predecessors is confusion. Words get mixed. Assumptions are made. Emotions rise fast. And the masks go back on for everyone.


So here's what I've put together for this unique edition of *Re-Thinker: I've compiled, in quasi-poetic form, a collection of statements I've heard echo through the thousand+ hours I've logged with Gen-Z. And I've entitled it Confessions of an Honest Young Adult.

These are their unfiltered thoughts. Truly, unmasked and raw.


I hope you hear something unexpected bleeding through the lines you find below.


The goal of this piece is not to spark a heated debate.

The goal of this piece is to encourage you to rethink how to love the young adults in your life well


With that being said, here are some Confessions of an Honest Young Adult:


A Reflective Piece

I hope my anger hasn't fooled you. It’s easier to hide behind pixels than to face the real world. They say I'm addicted. Maybe it's true. I go where I'm wanted. I guess I'm not so different from you.


If I show my teeth, will you still come for me? If I pump my body with serums and transform, layer by layer, how far can I go before you won't call me human?


When it comes to the world, I've been told it's up to me to shape it. I'm supposed to follow my heart. But leaving the beaten path has left me beaten. Every trail around me seems to end in cliffs. I don't know how many more hits I can take.


I hope my hopelessness doesn't fool you.

I just don't know how to live.


It’s easier for me to blame. Easier to worry. Easier to keep my vulnerability tucked away than risk telling another person and endure them not caring. My skin has ripped with the sting of going unseen. I’m not good at listening. I’ve got to pay a pro for attention. 


I’m not good at repairing. My garbage bin is overflowing with loves that broke, and I don't know how to fix them. If you see my eyes go vacant, it's the clutter of a thousand trampled dreams. You say I'm not tough. My body is anemic, malnourished, in need of love. If you gave me a chance, I'd ask you to go with me to the garbage dump. And there you'll find my real questions.


I know I’m not easy to love. It’d be easier if a language barrier were to blame. Here we are with the same letters, but we can’t make it plain. I hope you hear something else behind these words. I’m not trying to complain. I think I’m crying for help.


When am I worth loving, even if I can’t do a damn thing?


Don’t ask me to save the world.

Show me instead how to live well.

Maybe then I'll have the strength to jump in.


I may look like an anarchist,

But really, I’m an orphan.

I may sound like a brat,

But most of my edges come from being abandoned. 

I've got emergency contacts, but no one to call home.


Don't let my anger fool you.

I've turned to rage to keep from dying.



An Honest Young Adult


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