The ‘now’ generation: what Gen Z really cares about—from dump accounts to digital therapy

If it has anything to do with peace and relaxation, the Gen Zers will take it. Nowadays, young people prefer silence over the hustle and bustle of the city. They find outdoor activities relaxing and calming. Activities such as camping, hiking and going to the beach are what they find most healing to their souls—the perfect recharge after a long week of dealing with adulthood. But not all seek escape through the outdoors.

Some young people still prefer to retreat into the comforts of their bedrooms, catching up on sleep. Some call it “hibernation”, meaning a state of deep sleep that lasts for an extended period. While the term is traditionally used for animals trying to pass the winter season, Gen Zers use it to emphasise the exhaustion they feel from reality.

Young people today are leading a cultural shift in how mental health is talked about. What was once a taboo topic is now an open discussion. It’s normalised and even championed. Common terms in their everyday language and conversations include “anxiety” and “trauma”, as they are not afraid to confront past experiences to better understand how they’re feeling in the present.

Gen Zers have developed its way of processing emotions and navigating relationships, with growing confidence to face its problems and express its feelings. This trend reflects a generation that prioritises emotional wellbeing, embraces vulnerability and encourages others, regardless of age, to do the same. This generation calls for a collective move from stigma to self-care, showing that speaking up and seeking support are signs of strength, not weakness.

Studies show that the act of doomscrolling does more harm than good for today’s generation. For Gen Zers, rest often looks like lying in bed, on their phones, endlessly scrolling through social media platforms like Instagram or TikTok. Also believed to be a result of the Covid-19 pandemic, isolation led many young people to increase their screen time. After all, both school and work shifted online. Doomscrolling, then, became a way of taking a break from virtual classes or work deliverables.

The amount of time Gen Zers spend on their phones has become more than just a habit—it has evolved into a kind of self-care, but a harmful one. Many spend hours scrolling, losing track of time and often sacrificing sleep. This behaviour, particularly the act of doomscrolling in bed, even earned its own name: “bed rotting”.

Because of the pandemic, young people learnt and embraced the possibility of remote work. Even during the Covid-19 pandemic, many were able to work from the comfort of their homes while still maintaining a healthy work-life balance. This sparked hope in the younger generation, reinforcing the belief that one can have a job and still have a life. It also raised the expectations of fresh graduates planning their careers, as well as those already in the workforce, when it comes to their current roles: preferably a work-from-home or hybrid setup, with wellness programmes provided, no encouragement of overtime and good pay.

They don’t mind working as “corporate slaves”—as long as they’re seen, heard and respected in the workplace. The Gen Z business terms don’t stop there. One commonly used term is “burnout”—a state of mental, physical and emotional exhaustion caused by excessive stress. For this generation, burnout can come from work and even from school.

In contrast to past negligence, the current generation is more aware of their environment and surroundings. They are becoming increasingly concerned about the planet’s health and well-being, and are also more aware of the steps they can take to help protect it. In recent years, there has been a rise in zero-waste stores, strawless cities have emerged and bamboo toothbrushes have become a trend. Practices such as CLAYGO (Clean As You Go) and BYOB (Bring Your Own Bottle) have also been implemented almost everywhere—in both establishments and schools. Then came edible straws, which are still being used today. These straws, usually made from rice flour, tapioca starch or even wheat, are highly encouraged because once they end up in the ocean or on the streets, they eventually decompose—or can be eaten by animals on land and under the sea. This generation is not stopping with themselves—they’re adamant about spreading this awareness. They want to make sustainability and ethical responsibility the norm.

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Young people don’t just look for work based on salary—it’s actually about something more, something deeper: purpose. They want to know the employer’s values and see whether those values align with their own. It’s mainly about making a difference in the world together, doing work that brings them happiness and helps them grow into better individuals. Some are even very specific about what they want—a company that cares for the environment, is socially aware and prioritises mental health and wellbeing.

It’s safe to say that Gen Zers are this way because they grew up in a technologically advanced world. They have easy access to social media and daily news, allowing them to stay updated on social and environmental issues. As a result, they’re called to move, to take action. They want to contribute to building a better world. Young people today don’t just sit in silence; they stand up for what they believe is right and take action.

In today’s endlessly scrollable world, Gen Zers have found solace—and identity—in “core” culture. From gorpcore (think hiking gear and technical fabrics repurposed for city life) to balletcore (delicate pastels, wrap tops, leg warmers), these hyper-specific aesthetics offer a sense of order amid digital chaos. More than mere fashion trends, they’re emotional blueprints: ways to wear nostalgia, rebellion or softness on one’s sleeve. TikTok, Pinterest and Instagram have become archives of these fleeting yet fervent identities.

But this form of self-expression is not without pressure. Each aesthetic arrives with its own set of rules—what to wear, what to buy, even how to behave. The speed at which these trends cycle means that today’s must-haves are tomorrow’s discarded clutter. In this way, core culture walks a fine line between experimentation and exhaustion. For all its surface-level fluidity, the movement often reinforces a rigid loop of consumption: adopt the look, post the vibe, move on. In a generation known for its mindfulness and anti-capitalist leanings, this contradiction is stark. Gen Zers may be exploring identity through visual language, but that language is increasingly written in fast fashion tags and algorithmic prompts of social media.

Gen Z’s relationship with mental health is characterised by radical transparency. Unlike generations past, who often shied away from emotional disclosure, today’s youth speak fluently in “therapy-speak”—terms like boundaries, triggers, attachment styles and inner child have migrated from the psychologist’s office to everyday conversation, especially online. This shift, often referred to as “trauma talk” culture, reflects not only a growing emotional literacy but also a desire to create safe, supportive spaces in both digital and real-life communities. Platforms like TikTok and Instagram have become informal group therapy rooms, where sharing one’s anxieties, diagnoses or recovery journey is met not with stigma, but solidarity.

Still, the openness comes with complexity. While destigmatising mental health is a clear cultural gain, critics point to the risk of over-pathologising ordinary emotions or using therapeutic language to avoid accountability. There’s also the question of commodification—when wellness content becomes aesthetic, and self-care is reduced to a brand. Yet for the youth, the benefits outweigh the contradictions. Emotional expression is no longer a vulnerability to hide, but a strength to cultivate and develop. In a world that often feels unstable, transparency is a form of control, and language is power.

Cosmic realism draws on astrology, tarot and numerology, not as belief systems, but as symbolic frameworks for making sense of daily life. For Gen Zers, consulting a birth chart or drawing a tarot card isn’t necessarily about divine truth but about reflection, too. These rituals provide structure in uncertain times, helping individuals find themselves within broader narratives. A horoscope might not predict the future, but it can validate a feeling or prompt a needed pause. The appeal lies in how these practices blend introspection with aesthetics, being part self-care and part self-definition.

Rather than superstition, this is often about meaning-making. Numerology, zodiac traits and planetary alignments become tools for self-awareness and emotional processing. They’re used to articulate anxieties, explain moods or even justify instinctive choices. This return to symbolic systems reflects a generation that values inner work and exploration of identity. In conversations with friends, on social media or even during moments alone, cosmic realism provides a language for things that are otherwise hard to explain—an intuitive vocabulary for self-understanding.

The rise of digital companions is no longer the stuff of science fiction—it’s a reality many Gen Z users are leaning into, not with fear, but with familiarity—apps like Replika and ChatGPT. AI has become popular not because it offers productivity tools, but because it provides a sense of presence. According to a 2023 study by the Center for Humane Technology, Gen Z users report forming emotionally significant bonds with AI chatbots, describing them as “non-judgmental” spaces for venting, reflection or roleplay. For a generation raised online and shaped by global instability, these digital companions often feel safer and more consistent than human connections.

But the comfort they offer comes with complex questions. While critics warn of emotional offloading into algorithmic voids, many users see AI not as a dystopian replacement for people, but as a survival tool, especially when therapy is inaccessible or relationships are fraught. As critics claim, these bots can become “mirrors for our most intimate selves”, shaped by our prompts and projections. Gen Zers aren’t blindly trusting AI—they’re using it to navigate loneliness, anxiety and the pressure to be constantly available. The companionship might not be human, but for many, it’s real enough.

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DIY Education has taken on a new form for young people, driven by the vast resources of social media and online platforms. Platforms like TikTok, Instagram and YouTube have transformed into unexpected classrooms, where quick explainer videos, tutorials and step-by-step guides make acquiring new skills—from cooking to coding—accessible and engaging. For example, TikTok creators offer a range of content, from bite-sized lessons on calculus to practical recipes, transforming casual scrolling into productive learning moments. Google’s free courses and certifications further support this trend, providing young learners with flexible and affordable ways to acquire professional skills outside of traditional schooling.

This shift reflects a generation’s appetite for autonomy and immediacy in education. Rather than relying solely on formal institutions, young people tap experts and professionals directly through social media channels, valuing authenticity and relatability. A 2024 Pew Research Center report found that nearly 70 per cent of Gen Zers use social media to seek advice on careers, mental health and practical skills, often preferring peer or influencer insights over textbooks. This DIY approach to knowledge underscores a broader cultural emphasis on continual growth, adaptability and the blurring of lines between entertainment and education.

The young ones are rewriting the rules of how we present ourselves online—one long caption, a storytime video or a heartfelt post at a time. In contrast to the ironic detachment that defined earlier internet culture, today’s youth are embracing earnestness with open arms. Social media feeds, once dominated by perfectly filtered highlights, now make space for vulnerability: tearful TikToks, deeply personal Instagram captions and confessional commentaries on everyday life. Whether it’s recounting a bad breakup or reflecting on a moment of joy, the impulse is clear—feeling deeply is no longer cringe, but cool.

This return to sincerity is emotional, as it’s political. In a world saturated with curated personas and brand filters, honesty feels like a form of rebellion. Neo-sincerity enables Gen Zers (and some others) to resist the pressure to perform perfectly and instead lean into messiness, nuance and truth. The “story time” format, often raw and unpolished, invites connection through relatability rather than aspiration. It’s a small but powerful act: choosing to be seen, not as an aesthetic or avatar, but as a whole, feeling human being.

Reclaimed heritage is seeing a quiet resurgence among young people who are seeking to reconnect with the languages, textiles, rituals and stories of their ancestry. This movement isn’t driven by nostalgia so much as by a desire to fill in cultural blanks left by colonisation or modernisation. From wearing handwoven fabrics and reviving indigenous names to learning nearly-forgotten dialects, many are actively piecing together what was lost—or taken. It’s a deeply personal form of resistance and remembrance, reshaping identity through lineage rather than trend.

For Gen Zers and younger millennials, this return to roots also sits comfortably alongside contemporary life. It’s not unusual to see someone alternate between streetwear and traditional dress, or quote pop lyrics one moment and an ancestral proverb the next. Rather than viewing heritage as something static or solemn, Gen Zers are reclaiming it as dynamic, fluid and lived. This renewed relationship with tradition often bypasses institutions. It takes shape through family stories, community spaces and online platforms, where cultural pride is shared not as a performance but as a healing experience.

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