Looking around the BYUI campus, I look around and see so many other kids in the same boat as me, full of life, opportunities, and hope. I should feel excited for this upcoming generation, but rather I feel rather empty inside. Ever since I can remember, my family has said that I am unique and special and I am going to do a lot in this world. Teachers would gather me and my peers into an auditorium every year as we got older and older to tell us that we were special, unique, and we are going to do a lot in this world. In our young adolescent minds, we soaked it all in, the Propaganda of Hope.
Over the years, I increased in maturity and age, the thoughts and beliefs that I once clung onto now have become empty words, nothing but comforting lies. My peers, the ones I laughed, cried, and grew up with, have become nothing more than empty husks, drifting around with no sense of purpose, the only life they have is one full of worldly gratification and pleasure. How I managed to escape that world of filth is beyond me.
Nevertheless, I could not escape the feelings of insignificance and loneliness. No matter what I do in my life, my thoughts, memories, and ideas will get lost in the pages of time. This Propaganda of Hope, tries to hide that cold, harsh reality of unimportance by giving us false words of happiness that we so readily accept. Boiling it down, we live to get an education, then to raise the future generation the best to our abilities, then wither away in an assisted living somewhere.
Even though I sit in a classroom where I learn about the history of some man's past, even to this day. I wonder, if he fully recognized that his life would be written down into notebooks of broke college students, whose only concerns are to get a degree so that they won’t starve in the real world. Will my life be reviewed by a future generation or will I be like the rest of the billions of people, forgotten about and faded.
Letting those thoughts sink in, I wonder, why am I here? Why do I desire for a successful job when in the long run, it will have no purpose when I am in the ground pushing up daisies? Why do so many of us believe in The Propaganda of Hope, when we’ve only got 100 years anyway. Our lives really have little purpose, only to bring about another generation so that they can repeat the same cycles that we have been repeating for thousands of years.
Yet, I take hope, hope that one day I will look back and ask myself why I was so concerned in the first place. I continue to leave my life around the Propaganda of Hope, that I am important, I am special, and I will do great things in my life. In the meantime, I will continue following the cycles of history, among the thousands of my peers who are trying to do block the thoughts of sorrow out of their minds, just as I am trying to do.
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