Every Line I Don't Want to Write

Is it possible to have a mid-life crisis at twenty-four? Maybe this is the middle of my life. I have always joked that I will be dead by thirty-seven. That it is, "all downhill from there, right?". What if I'm right? 

Sleepless nights and stupid fights. 

Those have been my weeks, and I feel old. I feel older than I should. Especially when you are so young. Are we already an old married couple? The kind you feel bad for at supermarkets? That thirty-five to forty year old couple sifting through twenty percent off deli meat, laden with preservatives to preserve their children. I hope not. I never wanted to be that. 

This seems difficult, but doable. 

You have been studying for exams. I am worrying about numbers at a shoe store. Worry that neither one of us can relate to. 

How could you possibly care about the amount of Special Brand Natural Beeswax that I sell? "In order to best protect your investment, I suggest using this every few weeks to remove scuffs and scratches as well as protect from rain and stains."

How could I remember clearly what it was like to cram for Honors United States History? Especially since I was never in the Honors program. "William Howard Taft, the 27th President of the United States of America got stuck in a bath tub." Will this be on the test?

College feels so far away from me. Those three semesters at community college. Wasting my time and my parents money. I knew instantly that it was not where I belonged, but you need a degree to be successful. You need a degree to support your family. You need a degree. You need a degree. You need a degree. You need a degree. 

By the time you get yours (and of course you'll get one, you need it) I will most likely be in a factory or running my own shoe store, or I'll be exactly where I'm at right now, but tonight I am at home, and you are out with your friends. Celebrating the end of finals. I am celebrating that I have tomorrow off. My one day off a month. 

I thought by this time I would be married with a job that I loved. Something I really found fulfilling, but what no one tells you is that nothing is fulfilling. The most fulfilling thing in my life right now is opening a pack of cigarettes and seeing them all lined up, a row of seven, a row of six, a row of seven. Perfect and beautiful. 

You keep telling me to quit. 

"You know that's killing you, right?"

"Yeah, thirty-seven, that's the goal."

I know you wish I wouldn't joke like that. I am starting to worry that it isn't a joke. 

I keep saying, "I'll go back next semester." "I'll go back next year." What is there to go back to? A business degree and a cubicle? 

"A steady income to support your family" 

A degree. You need a degree. 

But I'm still on the couch. You're still out with your friends. There's still nothing on this god damned television. 

At least there's you. 

Something to hold on to. Something to keep me afloat amidst all of this. Throughout all the fighting, those I love you's kept surfacing. They kept me above the surface. You kept me alive. 

So here I am. On the couch. You'll come home and fall asleep next to me. Tomorrow we'll go waste our money on commercialized caffeine and I'll smoke cigarettes and you'll tell me to quit and I'll say I'm going back to school next Spring and you'll say "oh, bullshit" and we'll laugh and both know you're right.