I come from a very wealthy background. My father is very wealthy, and marrying my husband only multiplied that wealth because he is even richer than my family. Honestly, I never wanted to work. I just wanted to be a full-time housewife, doing soft life and enjoying my husband’s money. But my husband insisted he didn’t want me to stay idle, so he got me a job. Now here is the thing. I discovered that I don’t actually enjoy the job itself. What I actually enjoy is being around people who are struggling. I look forward to hearing their stories of suffering every day. For example, there is one particular woman in my office who always complains that sometimes her family eats only once a day. She says buying meat is like luxury for them, and that even her daughter’s school fees are a big problem. Another time, she said because she wanted to save transport fare, she trekked to and from the market and then consoled herself by calling it exercise. I was laughing inside because me, I have a driver that drops me at the market, and I can even decide to shop abroad if I want. Yet this woman was so proud of trekking. I don’t know how to explain this, but whenever she talks about her struggles, I feel this strange excitement. It’s almost like I am jealous of her. Because no matter how rich I am, I can never have that poverty experience. I can never know what it feels like to trek and call it exercise, or to cut meat into very tiny pieces so it can go round for a family. The more I hear these stories, the more I feel like I am missing something in life. Sometimes I even intentionally start conversations just so my colleagues can begin narrating their financial struggles. And when they are talking, I will just be nodding my head, pretending to be sympathetic, but deep down, I’m enjoying the gist. It makes me feel like I am seeing another side of life I can never live. Please, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to become poor, God forbid! But I feel this weird joy listening to those who are struggling. It makes me feel alive in a way that my wealthy life doesn’t. Now my question is this. Is something wrong with me for feeling this way? Is it normal to be jealous of poor people’s experiences? Or am I just a terrible human being?