Recently I came in touch back with my old friend from the boarding school days. We were never that close, but its sufficient that we acknowledge each other. He is a good looking little motherfucker with rich parents to boot. Now, he's in Scotland doing degree on something. Looking at his picture, he's like a complete stranger. Spotting the ever cool dreadlocks, and always with a glass of beer, sometimes I thought I love to have his life.

Being born in a middle class family, sometimes it made me feel guilty that I hate my poor ass. That my parents have to work extra hard to get food on the table. That I am unable to help more, even though I wanted to. Ok, lets not being over dramatic here. It's simple, I just want more money, so I don't have to keep a grudge every time I can't afford, which is practically every-damn-time.

Being poor suck.