I’m 20, studying, working three jobs and flat-hunting. And you ask why I’m not happy?

It’s 1pm on a Saturday as I drive up to my final house inspection of the day. This morning I got to bed at 3am after working the late shift and while I’m battling the inner-city traffic, I’m trying hard to avoid thinking about the three assignments due next week. It’s exhausting.

Diligently, I film the house in question – mould-stained carpets, cracking walls, overgrown backyards, windowless lofts – to send to my housemates-to-be. All this to live near-ish to my university in Australia’s most unaffordable city, paying about half my weekly income in rent.

I will drive home, tackle my mountainous assessment task list, pick up any extra shift I am offered and submit applications for anything with four walls and a roof. There is no time for dinner with my girlfriends, let alone a date.

The Australian Unity Wellbeing Index for 2025, released this week, says young people are less happy than they were in previous generations.

Eighteen to 25-year-olds reported an average wellbeing of 66.7/100, beating out 25- to 34-year-olds at 64/100, and paling in comparison with the 78.1/100 rating bestowed upon our grandparents, aged 75 and over.

The strain of a cost-of-living crisis and heavier burdens has changed the shape of Australia’s wellbeing. Historically, younger and older generations have the highest wellbeing indices. Today, generational joy is more linear – starting lower and increasing with age.

I like to think we are a pretty upbeat generation, but you can’t help the dip when there are so many factors to drag us down.

I blame the Baby Boomers. They promised us everything – but have kept it all for themselves. They haven’t built houses at an affordable price. In fact, they just haven’t built enough houses. They haven’t built enough power stations to fuel our futures. They’ve happily contaminated the planet with greenhouse gases and plastic takeaway cups filled with $7 coffees. And left us saddled with university debts that many of us will not begin to repay until we are twice the age we were when we started university.

Last week my prospective flatmates and I went searching for rental accommodation. We didn’t want a harbour view; we’d settle for a working loo! Or a bedroom with a window. Or a window that closes. I wish that was a joke.

If one more 40-ish homeowner tells me that “beggars can’t be choosers”, I might lose it. As full-time university students, we’ve counted our pennies and leaned on parents for help, but what you get for a weekly rent climbing close to $1000 is something our parents’ generation cannot understand.

Now, at 20, I have to collate an eyebrow-raising number of documents before a real estate agent will even look at my application. My last three employers and their phone numbers. My entire housing history (including my childhood home). My bank account statements for the past year. My savings history. My parents’ joint annual income and property history. That is, if your application captures attention after sharing a 15-minute inspection with 35 other prospective tenants.

Luckily for me, my parents are willing to sign a guarantor letter, which helps turn a blind eye to my non-existent rental history. Despite this, and as Sydney’s median house price hits $1.75 million, I have a sneaking suspicion that my housing anxiety will not be quelled simply by securing a lease.

Then, take super, for example. I’m sick of being told how good it is when I won’t see it for more than 40 years.

The government generously has offered us the chance to buy a home with a 5 per cent deposit. But can someone tell us how we then meet the repayments? At least Reserve Bank governor Michele Bullock seems to understand that!

Oh, and thank goodness the unemployment rate is still quite low at 4.5 per cent, because we all need three jobs each to survive. Even dating is a world that Boomers and Gen Xers cannot get their head around. Most of our parents met at work or at the local pub, or perhaps at university. Because they had the time to do that, because university was free, because they didn’t have to work multiple jobs to keep the lights on.

I pride myself on optimism. Why frown when you can smile? Why be sad when you can be happy? I will eventually secure a lease, get a full-time job and live a fulfilled life. I am safe, healthy and have a community of friends and family to lean on. But as I walk through a rental inspection with 35 competitors, or as I manipulate my timetable so I can fit class and work on the same day, it can be tricky keeping a smile on my dial.

There are many benefits to being 20. And I should remember that. I am lucky to go to university. I am lucky that I can afford to rent a house with my friends. I am lucky that I can use Google for my university assignments. But sometimes it’s hard not to think, as I am corralling housemates’ payslips, writing cover letters, and stacking three different work schedules, when did I grow up?

Siena Fagan is an economics and media student in Sydney.