On coming from money

My friend thinks you come from money. I say you’ve worked and hustled your way up the ranks. Who’s right?

I did not come from money, but through a combination of scholarships and just plain faking it, I grew up around people who did. I know what money looks like. I know how it talks. Most importantly, I know how money protects itself and those who have it at the expense of everyone else.

I’ve worked and hustled since I was a teenager. I moved to LA by myself, and made my own way here. I’ve been lucky a few times, and I’ve had my ass kicked a few times. I’ve been broke as fuck more often than I’ve been comfortable.

Hopefully I’ll always be able to earn a decent living (fingers crossed), but I know that I will never be wealthy. I’ve deliberately chosen not to marry it, I don’t have the capitalist instincts to build it, and I’m not one of the genetic lottery winners who’ll get to inherit it. That’s fine. I’ve spent enough time in the presence of wealth to know that I don’t need it.

There was I time during my adolescence when all I wanted was to be rich. As an adult, I know better. Hell, I’d probably be dead by now if I had grown up a rich kid. Looking back, I’m actually thankful that I don’t come from money. It’s just too much of a corrosive influence, and as strong as I am, I don’t think money would bring out the best in me.


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