Money

Money. You can never have enough of it. And you can never have enough of it. No matter how much you have, it's hard to pass up a chance to get your hands on some. To save even a little bit seems like a big deal.

At least, it’s a big deal for me. I can never let go of even tiny sums of money. A feeling of regret keeps nagging me. It pokes and prods, egging me to go and collect what, in its words, ‘is rightfully yours!’ I feel a little awkward about the miniscule amounts in question. But, in the resulting bout between the two, regret usually pounds and knocks out awkwardness in a matter of moments; though at times the conflict is drawn-out and when regret looks up from the flattened form of awkwardness, arms raised in victory, it discovers that the opportunity has long since passed and to ask now would be to combat indignity, ignominy and infamy, the combined might of which is too much for regret alone. So it rages about for sometime, jumping around and stamping its feet which does absolutely no good so it goes and sits in a corner, sulking. And over time, of course, it mutates into misery which is a feeling that is simply much harder to cope with. It doesn’t poke and prod as much as slam you against the wall, having gripped you in a chokehold, and gives you the third degree with reference to your non-collection of the capital in question.

However I think that everyone goes through something similar. No one really wants to give up change but it seems petty to ask for it. Especially from friends. And everyone is glad to get currency. Very rarely does one put off collecting money whatever the amount. Though this may be partly because they know that if they put it off too long, someone else may do the collecting on their behalf. Of course, this in turn, is because no one puts off collecting money, whatever the source, for very long. As you can see it’s a very complicated and paradoxical situation.

Love may make the world go round, but it's money that puts it in a spin. Nevertheless, in the end, it’s the value that we attach to those 'little pieces of green paper', as Douglas Adams referred to them, that really matters and not what's printed on them.