I guess this isn't a huge deal, not like some of the stuff people post here, but it's bugging me, you know? like for the past… I dunno, probably a year and a half now, every Saturday morning I wake up at 7:00 AM, sometimes even earlier if I'm stressed about something, and I put on my good slacks, the ones from Nordstrom Rack, and a button-down shirt that doesn't usually see daylight unless it's a client meeting, and I drive all the way out to the community center on Elm Street. It's like a forty-five minute drive if traffic isn't a nightmare, which it usually is, and I go to this ballroom dancing class. With a bunch of retirees. Like, actual old people. The youngest one is probably 68, maybe 70, and there's this lady, Margaret, who's 92 and still floats across the floor like she's twenty-something, it's wild. I'm nineteen. A college sophomore. All my friends are either at frat parties or doing some "ironic" karaoke night and I'm learning the foxtrot from a lady named Agnes who smells faintly of lavender and Bengay. It’s SO STUPID. And the thing is, I don’t even like dancing. Not really. I mean, it’s fine. It’s not BAD. It’s just… it’s ballroom dancing. It’s not exactly thrilling. And the music is always like, ancient big band stuff, or sometimes a really slow version of a pop song from the 80s, which is just bizarre. I tried to explain it to my roommate once and he just looked at me like I’d grown a second head. He was like, "Why, dude? What’s the point?" And I just mumbled something about needing to get out of the apartment, which is true, I guess, but it's not the real reason. I don't know the real reason. It’s just what I do now. Every Saturday. Same time, same place, same people. We have a coffee break halfway through where they serve those little shortbread cookies and I listen to them talk about their grandkids and their doctor's appointments and the price of gas and it's all so… different from my life. And I don’t know. I feel nothing about it. Like, it should be embarrassing, right? A kid my age, doing this? But it's not. It's just... a thing. It just IS. And sometimes I wonder if this is just what my life is going to be from now on. Just doing things that I don't really care about but also don't hate, because it's easier than trying to figure out what I actually want to do. Like, am I already there? Is this it? Is this what being an adult is? I pay my half of the rent, I go to class, I do my homework, I work my stupid part-time job at the campus bookstore, and then on Saturday I go dance with octogenarians. What even is that. It's not a crisis or anything. It's just… hollow. A little. Or maybe a lot. I don't know.