We asked young people what would actually make them happy

“I’m so bored of living. I wake up every morning in the same bed with the same person. I shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, eat the same breakfast and then take the same commute to work. I’m 28 years old, and I’m terrified this is all there is.”

This is the opening monologue in the first episode of Amazon’s Undone, the critically acclaimed adult animated psychological comedy-drama created by Kate Purdy and Raphael Bob Waksberg. The show follows Alma Winograd-Diaz, a daycare worker who is bored and dissatisfied with her life. She is horrified by how everyone around her acts, mindlessly following social conventions that make one’s existence more acceptable to the world but doesn’t seem to make them truly happy. Alma finds modern life so intolerable that she attempts what looks like suicide in the opening scene.

Undone is a strangely comforting show. Released during lockdown in 2020, the show (and Alma’s monologue) have been described by critics as a perfect representation of that time period. As Alma monotonously relays the sameness of her daily life, we at home were similarly trapped in a Groundhog Day of banal repetition. But when you watch Undone outside the context of COVID (like I did), you realise that what Alma is describing is not specific to how we lived during the pandemic but how we live our lives every day under late capitalism, with ever-widening economic inequality. We are poor, bored, unhappy and mentally unwell. Since leaving university in 2023, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling, like Alma, that this is all there is. I am 24 years old, spend most of my time working, and have very little free time to choose how I want to spend my life. I have fewer friends than I did when I was at university, and I am not as close to the friends I still have. I have black mould and mice in my house and am paying an extortionate amount in rent. The world is falling apart and I am miserable. With every passing day, I struggle more and more to envision a world where my life and the lives of my peers will get better. 

Over the last few years, mainstream publications have put young people’s dissatisfaction into sharp focus. Last week, the Guardian reported that the NHS is struggling to retain young staff, with a new report by the Nuffield Trust highlighting that 52 per cent of the health service’s youngest cohort say they’ve been made unwell due to work-related stress. Similarly, new research from the Times found that Gen Z in the UK are depressed and broke, with nearly a third of young people having sought medical assistance for depression and other mental health issues over the past three years. 43 per cent believe they are less happy than their parents were at our age, as they could find jobs, afford to buy homes, have children, or marry. Most definitively, in 2024, the World Happiness Report found that Gen Z is the unhappiest generation today, particularly in the US.

These articles can derive a lot of sympathy for young people, but they also generate much hate. Older people (particularly older conservative men) love to proclaim that young people are too soft, that they don’t want to grow up and love to complain. We saw the height of their vitriol in 2023 after 23-year-old Brielle Asero went viral on TikTok for sharing her struggles with working a nine-to-five after finishing college. “I know I’m probably just being dramatic and annoying but I don’t have time to do anything,” she says while crying. “I want to shower, eat my dinner and go to sleep [after work]. But I don’t have the time or energy to cook my dinner. I don’t have the energy to work out. I’m so upset.” The video sparked mass debate when it was reshared on X, with hundreds of people ridiculing Asero for being upset at the state of her life. “Ha ha, this girl is crying about having to work”, remarked one X user. “Welcome to Adulthood,” another patronisingly wrote.

While there’s a lot of discussion (and ridicule) about Gen Z being unhappy, not much attention is brought to conversations around what would make our lives better. This is not a frivolous question, as Sophie K Rosa writes in her incisive book Radical Intimacy: “Imagining that things could be radically different can be a way to reject the exploitation, oppression and violence in the world, helping us reimagine ourselves as capable of rebellion.” She evokes the words of writer and activist adrienne maree brown, who calls this work ‘pleasure activism’, which is “the work we do to reclaim our whole, happy and satisfiable selves from the impacts, delusions and limitations of oppression and/or supremacy”. According to brown, pleasure activism demands that “we all need and deserve pleasure and that our social structures must reflect this”, and that “we must prioritise the pleasure of those most impacted by oppression”.

When I posted a call out on X looking to speak to young people about what would make them happy, I was inundated with responses. For 22-year-old Veeda, moving out of her parent’s house would bring her some joy: “It’s such a shock to go from college where I was able to live (and afford to live) independently to now being unable to afford rent at an entry-level job.” For 25-year-old Kate, “cheaper rent would solve at least half of my problems”. 21-year-old Nico would be happier if the job market wasn’t in shambles: “I don’t want to have to worry about 50 jobs not calling me back after sending in applications.” 26-year-old Kimmy wants to cultivate community: “The last time a lot of the people I know felt alive was in college, and I think that’s because we were in close proximity to friends and were involved in clubs. Most of our life now is just: work, clean, sleep, repeat.”

“We added a second version of ourselves, a digital one, and we let it dominate our real flesh and blood body. I guess what I’m saying is I wish people would be people again. That would make me happy” — Matthew

Because of the isolation that capitalism breeds, young people, like 23-year-old Eman, are starting to feel deeply regretful about not maintaining relationships (that perhaps stopped serving her) from her teenagehood: “I regret that I didn’t foresee how much I would need lifelong friendships in the future. I want to make a change now, but at times, it really feels like it’s out of my hands.” 19-year-old Meena, pleaded in my direct messages for the world to be different: “I want a cure to my ADHD. I want to be able to use my phone less. I want to be able to come out to my parents, and I want better healthcare, especially trans healthcare, because so many of my friends can’t get access to any of it. I want dignified employment for my friends, and I want food to be affordable so they don’t break the bank to eat.” She continues: “I am so sick and tired of living like this. I can’t afford anything less than pipe dreams because I don’t know how the people I love can be okay otherwise.”

As more and more responses came flooding in, recurring themes began to emerge. Young people want their basic needs met. They want jobs, livable wages, affordable (free) healthcare and an end to injustices. Those who already have jobs crave freedom, the type of freedom they experienced when they were at university. They want to be untethered from their phones, an end to surveillance culture, their own space and deep and meaningful relationships with other people. 27-year-old Sarah explains that it’s difficult to feel joy nowadays “when you are aware of the potential for, and the existence of mass suffering as well as our own contributions to these realities.”

The word community also came up more times than I could count, with young people desperate to live close to their friends (not their jobs) and have people around them who will love, support and accept them. However, it’s important to note that while the word “community” came up a handful of times, it was almost always used vaguely. Community is understood as a solution to a lot of our problems, but as Elle Hunt questioned in one of her most recent articles about community for the Guardian, “Are we prepared for the challenges of creating it?” She mentions the importance of challenging one’s own selfishness and learning how to have conflict with one another. Yet, as Charles Vogel, writer of the book The Art of Community, explained to her, because so much socialising happens online, it has resulted in an “actual erosion in social skills.” And young people are painfully aware of this, too. 22-year-old Matthew believes that everyone could have their every need met, but “if folks are still gonna spend a bajillion hours on the phone and in their room, everything will still suck.” He continues: “We added a second version of ourselves, a digital one, and we let it dominate our real flesh and blood body. I guess what I’m saying is I wish people would be people again. That would make me happy.”

“It’s hard to feel joy when you are aware of the potential for and existence of mass suffering as well as our own contributions to these realities” — Sarah

It’s easy to feel hopeless when the reality of adulthood contradicts everything we were taught as children. The belief that good triumphs over evil, that the police keep us safe, that following the “right” path guarantees success – all of it unravels as we grow older. But while the responses to my callout were deeply upsetting, they also filled me with hope. The sheer amount of responses showed me that young people don’t want to accept life as it is now. They recognise that the way we live today isn’t working.

When older people ridicule us for being upset at the way life is, it is because they have come to accept that this is all life is and will be. I’ve been told countless times by those older than me that I will get used to adult life. But I don’t want to get used to the way we live today. I don’t want to normalise a life where we work five days a week with no free time to do what we want with the people we love. I don’t want to normalise violence and inequality, like the ongoing genocide in Gaza, where just yesterday, six children froze to death because Israel continues to block aid. I don’t want to accept the relentless attacks on transgender rights or the epidemic of violence against transgender people. I want to hold onto my rage against injustice because that rage is proof that the world has not beaten me into submission. And the overwhelming responses I received tell me that young people are filled with that same rage. We do not want to adapt to a broken world – instead, we are questioning it, resisting it and demanding something better. That, if nothing else, should give us some hope.