My name is Icarus. I am 30 years old. Last week I met a 20 year-old older than me. Only two years into school was he. Yet he had borrowed more than me.

We were at a concert but he could not hear. The debt reached up to his very ears. A twenty year-old older than me. For I had much less debt than he.

A girl approached him. He could have been laid, but instead he talked about his financial aid. Aid if it can be called that. She turned to me and together we enjoyed the majesty of the concert.

He could not stay for the encore. For he had books over which to pour. Lest he remain poor. Every month new loans reminding him what was at stake. A twenty year-old older than me. For I had borrowed less than he.

Sadly I was able to take no joy in this. For on that day many years from now when he takes the podium to accept an award for excellence in his chosen field he will hear muted notes from the concert he missed all around him. And he will think of the girl. And his student debt unpaid. And the fact that the podium is in an empty room and the award one he gave himself. Then he will return to the temp agency, having never found a job utilizing his degree.

A twenty year-old. Older than me. For I have lighter chains than he.