"It pays my way, and it corrodes my soul..."
Are you Heller's Bob Slocum or Melville's Bartleby? Or someone in between the dismal acceptance of the grind and the refusal to comply with the demands that your existence is owed to the labor for something without regard for you?
He was tired of carrying her weight. Her financial choices and responsibilities. Her alcoholism. And he knew she was tired of his drug abuse and laziness and porn addiction. And Train played. And the guy kept talking. “Thing is, man… if it weren’t for divorce, I’d have student loans.”