Maybe we do want too much. Maybe we do want it too soon. Maybe we do think too highly of ourselves. Maybe we think we should have it all. Maybe we think we shouldn't have to work. Maybe we think struggle is for others. Maybe we believe our own press. Maybe we think the rules do not apply to us. Maybe we don't know we think that. Maybe we've never known real struggle. Maybe we don't know how to reconcile ourselves with the gulf between us and everyone who came before. Maybe we're soft. Maybe we're delusional. Maybe we're selfish and small. Maybe we don't know how to fix any of this without waiting it out and seeing what happens.
But maybe we're also tired. Maybe we also know what it's like to watch a generation shuffle away with nothing in their eyes but the weary look of someone who did nothing but survive and is trying to tell themselves that's all they had to do. Maybe we don't know what we want to do, but we also know we don't want to stop trying to find out. Maybe we realize on some level that nobody gets out alive. Maybe we understand that nobody on their deathbed ever looked back and wished they'd spent more time at the office. Maybe we don't think that the job is the person. Maybe we don't think the job is anything other than a necessary evil, a tool wielded only because of the things it lets you build. Maybe we know we'll never change things, not in a big way, not really, and maybe we're disappointed about that. Maybe we don't want to sell ourselves short just because somebody before us never bothered to sell themselves at all. Maybe we don't want to settle a bill we didn't charge. Maybe we know that the grind is the grind, but that doing it doesn't have to mean living it. Maybe we don't want to wake up one day and realize it already happened. Maybe we're going to blow the whole thing. Maybe we're OK with that. Maybe we'll change. Maybe we can't. Maybe we can. Maybe we're waiting for you to leave already. Maybe you should accept that.