Untitled

I was wrong. Its not something I say easily or frequently, but in this case it comes out heartily. I. Was. Wrong.

I grew up wealthy. Most of my life money was really no object. 

And then it was, now it is. An object - like a heavy weight that presses on my chest at night, making it so I can't breathe or a clicking bomb, waiting to explode.

I was so very wrong. I believed, like people who grew up with money foolishly do, that money does not matter, that it does not buy happiness.  I know now that fools say things like that. Fools who have never looked at their bank account on the 2nd of the month and seen a balance that will not cover this week's petrol, let alone rent.  Fools who have never wept as they packed up precious possessions in boxes to sell to pay bills, or hid in Burger King as there wasn't enough money to pay the guy who was coming around to collect it, or wept as their children were covered in fleas and there wasn't the £20 to go and buy a can of flea spray.

I am not that fool. 

I have worked so hard ad i am al

 

 

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