When I was in my early twenties I cheerfully assumed that if I didn’t become too obsessed by money that it wouldn’t become too obsessed with me. Shortly thereafter the hammering began.
Money became lovingly, unashamedly obsessed with every moment and every nuance of my existence. It has clung to me ever since; every moment of every day, waiting for me when I wake up, watching me when I sleep. I have got angry with it, screamed at it to leave ’till I was blue in the face, told it I did not respect it, like it and certainly did not love it. But money is deaf.
Even when we were at our most distant it would still send me letters and ring me every day. When I pulled the phone out the wall and closed my curtains and refused to read the mail, money would be waiting for me when I returned, angry and frustrated at my absence. It was never out of my thoughts, of course, no matter how far down in whatever dark pit I hid. Money was there every second.
Like all obsessive relationships there has been no satisfaction for either party. No rest and no peace. We are locked in an endless stifling embrace me and money, someday I fear that only an act of violence will finally end it. Because I have become as obsessed by money as it has with me.
Posted by thearcadian 
