Weren’t all ‘young’ people the same? Disillusioned, world-weary, bored out of their minds? The constant need for adventure, that constant need to ridicule suburban life and jobs that keep you desk bound and microwavable food and comfort.Everything was fake and every day had to be a day closer to the genuine. They were always single, these ‘young’ people, childless, unattached, maybe rich. Selfish. He remembered being 'young’ and being horribly, horribly selfish. How infinite he felt. Now he found comfort in the predictability of the train. But he didn’t miss his old self. Even then he knew he was lost.
Eliza Victoria, A Bottle of Storm Clouds: Stories
comfort, contentment, selfish, youth