I’m only in my early 30s, yet lately, I’ve found myself uttering phrases like, “Kids these days,” or shaking my head at what I perceive as a general decline in… well, everything.
It’s a jarring realization, not just because I’m far from retirement, but because the specific reminder for this unwelcome feeling of premature antiquity isn't geopolitical strife or economic downturns. No, it’s something far more insidious, something that invades my living room with alarming regularity: the modern vernacular, as broadcast relentlessly by reality television.
At first, I told myself it was just a regional thing. You know, like, a California Valley Girl phenomenon. A linguistic quirk confined to a specific demographic, probably engineered for dramatic effect on shows set in affluent, sun-drenched locales. But then, as more and more reality shows began to proliferate across every conceivable niche – from dating competitions to lifestyle makeovers, culinary battles to survival challenges – I started to notice it wasn’t just a regional accent or a niche dialect. It was, like, everywhere. Across the board. And honestly, it’s, like, making me feel one hundred years old.
Let’s dissect this linguistic assault.
My primary grievance, the one that makes my blood pressure literally spike, is the insidious overuse of the word “like.” It’s no longer a comparative conjunction or an indicator of preference. It has morphed into a verbal tic, a perpetual pause, an utterly meaningless filler word that appears, like, every fourth word. It’s like, you know, a constant stream of conversational static that strips sentences of their clarity and turns confident statements into hesitant, insecure ramblings.
When I hear someone trying to articulate a thought, and every other word is punctuated by a superfluous "like," I don't hear their message; I hear a broken record. "It's, like, you know, the whole, like, thing that got me, like, annoyed with the way, like, they talk..." It’s distracting. It's frustrating. It creates this bizarre, conversational quicksand where the speaker seems perpetually unsure of their own words, perpetually searching for validation or simply filling airtime.
Where did the conviction go? Where did the precise vocabulary vanish? It feels, quite frankly, like a surrender to linguistic laziness, a refusal to craft a coherent thought without leaning on a verbal crutch. And while I understand language evolves, this particular evolution feels like a regression, a step backward from clear, concise communication.
Then there’s the egregious misuse of "literally." Oh, how that word grates on my linguistic sensibilities.
In its true form, "literally" is a powerful adverb, meant to emphasize that something is exactly as stated, without exaggeration or metaphor. "I literally ran home" means my feet were physically moving in a running motion towards my residence. But now? I hear things like, "I literally died when she said that!" Did you? Were you, in fact, deceased? Or perhaps, "I was literally starving!" Were you truly on the brink of death from lack of sustenance, or merely hungry?
This casual redefinition of "literally" as an intensifier, rather than a statement of fact, robs the word of its inherent power and meaning. It's linguistic hyperinflation, and it cheapens our ability to articulate genuine extremes. When everything is "literally amazing" or "literally the worst," what words are left to describe things that actually possess those qualities?
It’s a linguistic arms race where every utterance is pushed to an unnecessary extreme, leaving no room for nuance or genuine emphasis. It reflects a culture of exaggeration, where every emotion is dialed up to 11, regardless of its actual intensity. And when I hear it, I literally feel an age-old exasperation settling deep in my bones.
And finally, the insidious phenomenon of upspeak. This is where a speaker’s voice rises in pitch at the end of a declarative sentence, as if they are asking a question. "I went to the store today?" "I bought some milk?" "And then I came home?" It’s unnerving. It transforms every statement into an inquiry, every piece of information into a tentative suggestion. It undermines authority, makes one sound constantly unsure, and can be incredibly irritating in a professional or even just a normal conversational setting.
Are you telling me something or are you seeking my confirmation? Are you insecure about your own knowledge or is this just how you talk? It leaves me, as the listener, perpetually waiting for a definitive statement that never quite arrives. It injects an unnecessary layer of ambiguity into communication, making it harder to discern intent and creating a sense of constant, low-level confusion.
I consider myself open to new trends, new technologies and new ways of thinking. But hearing these people talk, hearing these linguistic habits repeated ad nauseam, makes me feel like I’m from another century. It’s not just a trivial annoyance; it genuinely feels like a communication barrier. When clarity is sacrificed for filler, when precision is traded for hyperbole, and when certainty is replaced by a constant question mark, it suggests a profound shift in how we relate to language itself.
Perhaps it’s a form of linguistic self-preservation, a way for me to distance myself from something that sounds, to my ear, like the slow erosion of articulate thought. Or perhaps, it’s just me, getting old before my time, literally unable to handle the evolving verbal landscape of the younger generation. But I truly believe these aren’t just harmless quirks. They are linguistic habits that, for many of us, literally make clear communication a challenge, like, you know, all the time. And I'm totally literally, like, fucking sick of it.