Me, Myself and Money$
Money doesn’t matter to me, and yet it matters to those I care for. I miss not needing money. I never used it for more than I needed. What a trap this race toward financial freedom! I’ll never get there, because we can’t choose the ones we love, and we can’t control other people. Take it all, I say.
It’s difficult to have money involved with any relationship, because I can’t give them what they desire and therefore I am dealing with my feeling of failure. I have failed to provide. I am not capable to provide such an extravagant life for them. I dream to provide our vacation to Mykonos, sitting beside you on white beach chairs under umbrellas, the sky deep purple with only a few clouds, a small bottle of grippa for you, and …
The race is set against us, you and I, we are the little people never meant to be more than grease for the gears of modernization and corporate profits. I get it. I know my place here in the line toward desolation — but do I need to be sold on the idea body lotion is worth half a day’s work, or a handbag will prove more an investment than my vanguard options? I am tired now. I must press on.
When did my spirit fall for such trivialities? When did my pocket get picked so empty? You, my dear reader, may know a better way forward than I, and it’s okay to keep your secret hidden. I will let my secret known. I live as minimally as I can, and I refuse the dreams set before me by the television, my iPhone, the shopping centers, and everywhere. I do not believe such lives gain contentment, and true happiness. I see nothing, but sorrow.
The work shall set me free, and the race and corporate profits will only know of the result and never more than that. It will be their folly to never realize the truth of this knowledge. As a donkey chained to a cart, the driver casting a carrot before me, I no longer give a damn about the carrot. I will trot until my legs give out, never reaching for the carrot. I will breathe in the discomfort, and focus on its absence on my exhale. I will walk so far, the driver will tire of holding the carrot before me, and instead sit in awe of this beast of burden possessing more fortitude than the driver will ever have the courage to undertake. All the while, I will pray for the driver to have such vision as given to me by virtue, the poor donkey.
I am the provider, and I am the one my loved ones depend on, and I am the one my employer pay to show up everyday. They all are my “drivers.” It is a strange thing, money, this race to possess, and it seems to be getting stranger in the larger scheme of things, as we move closer and closer to digital currency, and nothing to back it up but only by gullibility. How does this period in history end? I wonder…
