Existential Crisis
Existential Crisis: The Life of a Zoomer in a Late-Stage Capitalist Hellscape
So, here we are. Me, sitting on this IKEA chair that I bought when I still had some semblance of financial hope, talking to you. Who are you, by the way? The fourth wall? The void? Whatever. I don’t even care. I just need to rant because, let’s be real, this world we’re living in feels like it was designed by someone who really hates humanity.
Take a seat, friend—if you can afford one—because I’m about to spill the tea on what it’s like being a Zoomer navigating this late-stage capitalist nightmare.
Rent: The Hunger Games of Housing
First up: rent. Oh, you thought you were going to buy a house one day? That’s cute. Let me know how that works out when starter homes cost $650k in Long Beach, and your paycheck barely covers rent for a glorified closet with "vintage charm". My rent alone takes up half my paycheck. Half! And what’s left? Let me tell you, it’s not much.
The rest of it disappears faster than my motivation to be productive. There’s the credit card bill (because I had the audacity to need food last month), the phone bill (gotta stay connected to the chaos), utilities (cold showers, anyone?), and oh, let’s not forget random, soul-crushing expenses like car repairs or medical bills.
Speaking of which, have you ever just sat there, staring at a $900 bill for something stupid like re-installing catalytic converter on my Prius, wondering how humanity made it this far? Because same.
Crypto: The Millennial Gold Rush or My Biggest Regret?
And then there’s crypto. Oh, crypto. The modern-day treasure map for those of us too poor to invest in real estate but too desperate to not at least try something. Everyone on Reddit was screaming, “HODL, bro! This is how you escape the rat race!” So, like a fool, I believed them.
Now? I’m sitting here with a wallet full of altcoins no one talks about anymore, hoping Elon Musk tweets something ridiculous to save my portfolio. Was investing in crypto the right call? Honestly, I don’t know. Some days I think, “This could be my ticket out of this mess!” But most days, I just stare at the red arrows on my Conbase app and contemplate whether I should’ve just spent that money on tacos.
And don’t even get me started on taxes for crypto gains. Oh wait—what gains?
The Subscription Trap
Capitalism has its claws in everything. Netflix, Spotify, Adobe, gym memberships I never use. All these subscriptions feel like leeches, slowly draining what little cash I have left. But if I cancel them, I risk losing the last few scraps of joy and sanity I have.
Do I need Disney+? No. Will I fight anyone who suggests I cancel it because I need my weekly dose of nostalgia? Yes.
The Retail Therapy That Backfires
Sometimes, I think, “Screw it, I deserve something nice.” So, I buy a new gadget or splurge on takeout. And for about five minutes, I feel okay. Like maybe life isn’t so bad. But then my bank app sends me that “low balance” notification, and I’m right back to questioning my existence.
Retail therapy is like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. Sure, it stops the bleeding for a second, but you know deep down you’re still totally screwed.
Am I Going Insane?
Here’s the thing: I don’t know if I’m doing this life thing right. I’m hustling, budgeting, grinding, and still, it feels like I’m treading water while someone keeps adding bricks to my backpack. Am I insane for thinking this is all just... wrong?
Every time an unexpected expense comes up—a dental filling, a flat tire, my cat deciding to eat something she shouldn’t—I feel like I’m one step closer to losing it. And don’t even try telling me to “just save more.” With what money? The pennies I find in my couch cushions?
The Existential Spiral
Sometimes, late at night, I stare at my rotating ceiling fan and wonder: Is this it? Is this what life is supposed to be? Grinding away at a job I tolerate at best, just to give most of my earnings to landlords, corporations, and the government?
I’m supposed to save for retirement, but let’s be real—by the time I’m 65, the planet might just be a flaming ball of trash. So why even bother?
Clinging to Hope (or Whatever’s Left of It)
Here’s the thing, though. Even in this relentless, unforgiving system, there are moments that keep me going. A good meme, a random act of kindness, a friend who understands the struggle. Sometimes, it’s enough.
And maybe—just maybe—if enough of us start questioning the system instead of blindly accepting it, we can begin to change things. Or at the very least, build a better IKEA chair to sit on while we complain about it.
So, yeah. That’s my existential crisis. Thanks for listening, or reading, or... existing. I don’t know what’s coming next, but hey, at least we’re in this together. Right?
