My obsession with wealth materialized on that day in December when the cold tile grazed my naked feet. Every dime was a dollar and speck of dust became gold. It came at me from nowhere really. The purpose of life was tinted envy green. In every corner I saw the spotless marble floors. On every delicate finger I saw bleak diamonds. Isn’t it more than the money I want? Am I so shallow that my friendships are formed for my own success? Or maybe Royals is ironic because Lorde actually puts wealth on a pedestal. Maybe I have an infinite love for cheap, shiny things.


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