Watching the Twenty-Somethings on the Train and Hating Their Unbroken Skin

Dear Delyara, A group of university students got onto the carriage at New Cross tonight, laughing loudly about a house party they were heading to. I sat opposite them in my work clothes, clutching my laptop bag like a shield, and found myself feeling a sudden, toxic wave of pure envy. It wasn't just their energy; it was their complete lack of caution. Their skin was unbroken by lines of stress, their eyes were entirely clear of fatigue, and they moved through the public space with the absolute certainty that the world was designed for them. I felt like an ancient, gray monument sitting in their shadow. I hate that I’ve become the bitter person who looks at youth with resentment instead of kindness, but tonight the weight of my own years feels completely insufferable.