We are the undo generation. Everything means something in the moment, but the delete key depleted its key importance. For when everything is oh so important really, nothing is important.
We are the undo generation. We glorify regrets, pretending we’ve moved on from them when really we’re trying to get others to move on from them. We delete memories from our timelines. We post enough good to bury the bad and stamp everything with time, that competitor always fisted hands raised in the ring.
We are the undo generation. Let me delete this post, let me erase these thoughts, let me undo the writing. I am an undoer. Every season of life has me scratching out the past. New, everything must be new. There is no feeling sorry for yesterday, only feeling hopeful for tomorrow.
We are the undo generation. I scratched out the past and forgot to learn from it. I undid my writing and forgot to get better in my art. I deleted my regrets, and forgot sorrow can be constant. Still, we undo and undo and nothing matters. We wonder why we are unhappy and can’t remember. But we can’t remember because it became so second nature to hit command + z that we never saw what we were losing, both from the past parts of us that we erase so now we’re only half here and we stole all worry and importance from the future.
We are the undo generation. If only we could return it all to its rightful place. Then we could remember the pain and not make the same mistakes. Then we could worry about tomorrow and make it meaningful.