Do you get this feeling dear rich children? That you don’t deserve to be born into a rich family? I do. My parents aren’t filthy rich, like they could sponsor all their six children to study at London and at the same time. Nope! Nor do they have fleets of cars that would fill up a run way. We are rich. Just rich enough. Still somehow I feel like I don’t deserve this, perhaps an angel made a mistake; shoved me into the wrong womb?
You would understand this thoughts if you came close to me, watched as my legs corrode my worn-out shoes. Watched me in my tattered existence, in my own attempt to cover up the mistake the angel made. I see it in their eyes too; friends. They admire my luck; the silver spoon, like it actually hung there in my mouth dangling seductively. They make me regret this “luck”. They don’t make me per say, I just see it; pain I am yet to feel but must feel. Suffering? Have I suffered? Yes certainly! But out of lack? Can’t remember. I hope I will feel it someday. You know what they say? “No pain no gain”. So instead of staying put and waiting for the pain to come, to pause my heart, destroy the dam built around my tears or rumple my face into a rough agony. I would reach into their “unluck” discover their pain, misery and wish for myself also this luck they think I have.
Let me help you out to understand this. A rich kid must be pompous, arrogant, constantly misbehaving throwing cares to hell or more so give fuck-shit about school! But I lack all this. I think richness has been wasted on me, like am not living up to the demands of this adjective. Yes I was born into a rich family sure! But I was born poor.