When the first organism crawled out of the ocean and filled its gasping lungs for the first time with clean, fresh air, it knew that Millennials would never appreciate everything it went through to give them legs.
If you say the words “post-recession job market” three times while gazing into a mirror, an internet commenter will appear to inform you that in the days of his callow youth, trophies hadn’t even been invented yet.
“What do only nineties kids remember?” the novice asked the monk. The monk replied, “If you call yourself a nineties kid, you deny the totality of your experience. If you do not call yourself a nineties kid, then you claim that you are ignorant of the facts of your own life. Consider a leaf on the autumn breeze. At what point was it not a tree?”
In the northern forest, in the land where it is always winter, there is a single pale white tree. In the highest branches of that tree there is a hawk’s nest, and the bird that makes its home there is feathered in purest gold. Each year, the hawk flies from one end of the forest to another, and in the furthest reaches of the wood it drops a single golden feather. The first Millennial to find that feather and Instagram it with the hashtags #hiking #natural #blessed will be the one who saves us from the Darkness.