People love to quote America's favorite founding lothario Ben Franklin. One of his more famous lines that gets passed around is "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." This was certainly true for Franklin's time, and is still mostly true. Only, nowadays it seems like there are more certainties. For instance, it is almost guaranteed that you'll find yourself existentially (if not physically) lost at 23, wondering who you are becoming, or even if you are in the act of 'becoming' anything at all. When I look around at my peers, all of us in what should be the highlight of our youth, I should see people happy to be moving their lives along to bolder and bigger steps. Instead, I generally see a strange fatigue. 20 years of schooling (give or take) and thousands of dollars of debt, trying to find jobs that allow us to at least feed ourselves. Comfort is a foreign concept for the 20-somethings of today, and everyone is telling us to quit our bitching, to recognize how 'good we have it'.
Lit - My Own Worst Enemy
It's okay, we all thought this was a Blink-182 song at one point or another. You're forgiven. You also know the feeling about getting in your own way. Maybe you really aren't supposed to be anything. If you were really intended to be something, someone important, then you wouldn't consistently fuck it up for yourself. But you do. And you always will.
It's no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy 'Cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me The smoke alarm is going off, and there's a cigarette Still burning,
Maps - The Front Bottoms
When you were younger, you had all these big plans. You were going to be something, somebody. People would look at you and somehow know that you'd made it, out of the quagmire of your early twenties, a bright and successful adult person. Along the way, mistakes were made, and now you're serving burgers in a shit town in a dying state. Is this what you wanted?
But you are an artist and your mind don't work the way you want it to. one day you'll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom. and you'll be thinking how did I get here where the hell am I ?
Constant Headache - Joyce Manor
I don't know if this song is about a dog, or about a jilted lover, or even maybe about a neglected child. It could be any of these things, maybe. Possibly. You know this feeling, though. Of being just a constant headache for someone, a point of relentless misfortune in someone else's life. There's solace knowing you aren't the only one, right? No? Okay.
But I'm a constant headache A tooth out of line. They try to make you regret it You tell them, “No, not this time.” I'm just a constant headache A dead pet device. You hang me up, unfinished With the better part of me no longer mine.
The Presidential Suite - Say Anything
I love Say Anything, I'm pretty sure that's clear by now. This right here is one of their early gems, full of punk rock piss and vinegar. You feel the disdain, the derision in all of the lyrics. You've been lead on by all of these people you didn't have any say about, and you suffer the consequences of someone else's actions. Fuck them.
The rodeo begins, They take us for a ride and we are flailing, but as hard as we may buck the king of fools is still in place and fit to rule. You fucking praise him. Yes, you fellate him with your trust Your parents, parents, made this happen. Yeah eat your words and fold your napkins! Another pawn, a pink flamingo on the lawn, and that's all you'll ever be. And if you thought that you were free, well...
Stressed Out - Twenty One Pilots
Even the title hits this one on the nose. We're stressed out here. We're fucking incapable of dealing with it, so it becomes that much easier to distance ourselves from the feelings, escaping into rose-colored visions of the past, of the people we were once, of the times we imagine were so much better than now, even knowing that they were shit back then too.
I was told when I get older all my fears would shrink, But now I’m insecure and I care what people think. My name’s ‘Blurryface’ and I care what you think Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’ days, When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out.