There comes a time when we push past all the pettiness and try to achieve a state of calm. Except, when we are twenty something, being childish is the unconscious norm. We are struggling, we are fighting, living in a constant state of heady unrest. Loving it, hating it, dissatisfied with absolutely everything that is not "us". Selfish as hell, directionless and charging onto the goal of what we believe is "greatness". Nothing less would do for us. We're a bunch of thirsty predators. Love, hurt, games and politics, we are machiavelli's children. We're blind, we're stubborn. We are trying to be great, we're dying to be great. What sets us apart is the abysmal desire within.
And if we can wriggle out of this bubble we live in, maybe one day we will be great. For now, we shall just remain a bunch of twenty somethings.
