When the first organism dragged itself out of the ocean and took its first breath of clean, fresh air, it realized that Millennials would never appreciate everything it had suffered to bring them legs.
The novice asked the monk, “What is it that only nineties kids remember?” And 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, you deny the facts of your existence. Consider a leaf on the autumn breeze. At what point was it not a tree?”
If you say the words “post-recession job market” three times while looking into a mirror, an internet commenter will appear to remind you that when he was a callow youth, trophies hadn’t been invented yet.
In the heart of the northern forest, where the snow lies thick and deep and the winter winds howl, there is a single tree with leaves of pure silver. In the highest branches of that tree, a hawk with feathers of gold has built its nest, and once a year it flies from one end of the forest to the other. The first Millennial to Instagram that hawk will be the one who saves us from the Darkness.