Money has been something I’ve always taken for granted. It wasn’t something I craved or paid much attention to. I had no lack of money growing up. Not that my family was filthy rich, but we got by comfortably.
So it comes as a bit of a surprise to me now, that I am feeling, in a very acute sense, the lack of money. And more surprisingly, what this lack of money limits me from doing.
Poverty is a concept I thought I understood. But I realise now, my understanding probably only scratches the tip of the iceberg. Because life, for some reason, in this world we made for ourselves, cannot go on without money. And that, is a very sad thing indeed.
That our human potential is somehow restricted by how much we have in our bank account. I look at my friends around me, and I feel a sense of envy and jealousy at those who can afford life’s luxuries, like travelling or buying a new car. And although a part of me wishes I can spend to my heart’s desire, I remind myself that I only have $63.42 in my bank account, and a $2,500 credit card bill outstanding.
Being poor, has certainly taken on a whole new meaning, for me.