F*ck Being Rich.

When you are rich, you do not actually have money. You have more trees in your wallet than in the parks around the noisy city in which you live.

You still cannot breathe any better or any deeper than you would or could in those parks. It is sad, I imagine to be rich, to be frugal and greedy simultaneously combined with the fact that you have not eaten for days due to your eating disorder.

You have slit your wrists many times, however, the blood never drips onto the money you used to buy yourself new long sleeved shirts.

Being rich does not ensure you to Love, or insure you to healing. It does not cause you harm, being that you are intertwined inside a web of toxic spiders, biting you with advertisement sales on how to look prettier.