I am a millennial. Generation Y; born between the birth of AIDS and 9/11, give or take. They call us the global generation. We are known for our entitlement and narcissism. Some say it’s because we’re the first generation where every kid gets a trophy just for showing up. Others think it’s because social media allows us to post when we fart or have a sandwich for all the world to see. But it seems our one defining trait is a numbness to the world. An indifference to suffering.
I know I did anything I could to not feel; sex, drugs, booze. Just take away the pain. Take away my mother and my asshole father and the press and all the boys I loved who wouldn’t love me back. Hell, I was gang raped and two days later I was back in class like nothing had ever happened. I mean, that must have hurt like hell, right? Most people never get over stuff like that and I was like, “Let’s go get Jamba juice!”
And that’s the rub of all this, isn’t it? I can’t feel shit. I can’t feel anything. We think that pain is the worst feeling. It isn’t. How could anything be worse than this eternal silence inside of me. I used to not eat for days or eat like crazy then stick my fingers down my throat. Now no matter how much I binge I can’t fill this hole inside me. I can’t take it anymore. I think I’m going batshit. I need to do something.
Madison Montgomery, American Horror Story: Coven