I leaned on an old table surrounded by jubilant friends drowned in the usual youthful excitement of doing a risky sin with a sneaky link in the name of drunkenness. A load of joyful screams but I could not seem to lift my body from the position I am in, as something in me ways me down. My mind is dead, but my heart is racing to make sure that not all my soul leaves my body. Everyone seems low on honesty but high on drugs. At the corner I see some masculine hands grab on the waist of some skinny jeans, bottles, and bottles of high percentage liquor half full speaking volumes of the alcoholic possession in the room. I forced my head heavy like a rock to spot some red mentos scattered on the table, looking satisfied to have saved a young man who needed to overpower his alcoholic breath for some strawberry scent that would allow a short conversation with the shy girl at the edge of the table. My heart released two heartbeats that reminded me the need to keep a sober mind before I got home, or I will spend the rest of the night in the cold darkness. My dizzy failing eyes looked around struggling to make out the many figures around me dancing their youth away. What a sad generation, I thought to myself, because at least most if not all of us had a sleepless night coming up with a lie good enough to grant you permission to attend the party. A generation where mental health has been swept under the rag, where friends share only in happiness of shots and hot gossip, where a relationship is the beginning of mental damage and the end of mental wellness. I read a quote once that we are all suicidal kids telling other suicidal kids that suicide is not the answer, but as time moves on, I feel like our own actions are turning these statements to maybe suicide can be an answer. That is why I bleed so much for this dark and cold generation where giving your bro a hug is gay, where checking in on a friend is being nosy and were having a talk with friends without alcohol is considered a monotony. It’s a generation where we are all happy before the black out of one of our friends whose struggles with mental health are forced out of their mouth by the ten shots of Jack Daniels that they took a while back. But even in this emotional moment her friends cannot be of great help as they are also on the verge of the same state, trying hard to maintain a clear mind lest they open about their struggles and drop a few gangster points. It’s a generation that cares the least about mental illness, a generation where emergency statements like “I am depressed”, or” I’d rather die” have become an opening statement to tell a joke. A generation where emotional bullying is openly done in the name of “if I’m not mean to you, we are not friends.” A generation where victims become the villains because of expressing their pain. A generation where virginity is a sin and sex is glorified to a point where it has lost its true meaning. I shook my head to try and clear my thoughts, forthwith spotting a boy in the corner bawling his eyes out after a breakup, a girl on the phone lying to her mum about where she was, and two friend’s half passed out trying to drill a few more mouthfuls of liquor down their throats. Each looking empty inside craving for even a second of happiness with each gulp of the pink sweet-smelling but destructive drink. A bitter sting hits my heart with a burden for my generation and a great desire for the type of generation my parents grew up in. A past generation where cherries and cookies where food and not coded languages leading down a perverted path. Where a man looked forward to knowing more about me as a person and not what I can offer them behind closed doors, where only food was bitten and not necks. Back then when our country was not breaking records on the rank of countries with the highest suicide cases. I sat slowly trying not to give in to the loud booming music calling me to the dancefloor lest my ears explode. I took a few breaths and thought to myself that change must begin with me and maybe that way there will be change in this generation. We make up this generation and we will burn it to ashes if we do not start taking note of our own and our friend’s mental health because a shot in a million is still a shot.