Eighteen

He keeps asking me, "What do you want for your birthday?"

"I don't know, Kevin. I don't really want anything."

"Everybody wants something, Kyle. I'm not a materialistic person and even I want things."

I'm getting aggravated that he keeps asking me. I don't want to sound like an a*****e, and I most certainly don't want pity from him, or anyone else within hearing distance. I don't want anything material. Honestly. I will have a job soon, and tax returns are right around the corner. I can buy my own s**t. I don't even think of materialistic things. I know he just wants to run out and get me whatever random item I fire off (in desperation to answer his repeated question). I don't think anyone could get me what I really want, and I don't expect anyone to get me it. 

You're just dying to know what it is, aren't you?

It's a one-way plane ticket to Florida, to start with.

It's a call at 3 am, or an open of the door and a shake of the shoulder when you can't sleep.

It's a job, f**k, I really need a job. I feel like a f*****g slump, like a chip off the 'ole block.

It's a means of transportation, so I can be there when I need to be, and leave when it gets to be too much.

It's a subtle understanding of where I'm coming from. That'd be f*****g sweet to find bow-tied in a small box.

It's a call from my grandparents who moved to Florida and sent money to some random f*****g bank account, thanks.

It's a button that I can press whenever my mom is stressed out. She needs a happy button.

It's a present you can't get me, no one can.

You know what I want for my birthday? For me to be able to get those f*****g gifts all by myself.

But, I'll probably just tell Kevin that I want to go bowling. Bowling is fun. And tattoos, tattoos are rad and I'm dying for some of those. I want a car, maybe Kevin can help me fix up a s****y one that I get. But, these are all materialistic things that I can get on my own. But thanks for asking, you're one of the very few that did.