You can tell who’s Gen X on Halloween — we’re the ones who don’t need a costume to look haunted. We’ve been carrying that existential eyeliner since 1989. While everyone else scrolls for last-minute Amazon costumes, we’re out here dusting off leather jackets that survived more revolutions than TikTok could handle.
We remember when Halloween meant freedom — the night the world looked weird enough to finally match our insides. No curated pumpkin-spice aesthetics, no “content strategy,” just a cheap mask, a trash bag cape, and enough angst to power a small substation.
Millennials had Hot Topic. Gen Z has algorithms.
We had rage and eyeliner, baby — and we made it fashion.
☠️ The Ghosts We Still Dance With
We grew up on urban legends, VHS static, and the soundtrack of rebellion: Alice in Chains, Nine Inch Nails, Soundgarden. Every power chord was a spell, every scream a sermon.
Our Halloween parties were half séance, half therapy — candles flickering in beer bottles, mixtapes looping between the sacred and the profane.
The real monster under the bed wasn’t Freddy or Jason — it was mediocrity. And we swore we’d never become that.
(Okay, fine — now we pay mortgages and yell at thermostats, but our inner demon still listens to Ministry.)
🩸 The Trick and the Treat
Here’s the trick: The world told us to grow up.
Here’s the treat: We never did.
We wear our scars like badges, our sarcasm like armor.
We still believe rebellion isn’t about chaos — it’s about choice.
It’s saying no when everyone else sells their soul for a discount.
So this Halloween, when the fog rolls in and the porch lights flicker, remember — Gen X doesn’t need saving. We are the haunting.
We’re the middle children of history, raised by broken dreams and mixtapes, still walking through the fire with a cigarette, a smirk, and one mantra echoing in the dark:
Saint Dirty Face 