I am poor because I choose poverty. I am a poorie. If I subsist that satisfies me. I like electronic toys and gadgets and have indulged in those expenses in the past, but not anymore. I am unable to contribute to the economy in any meaningful way. What money I make goes nowhere but toward subsistence. I steal where I can. A coffee shop worker might hand me a few napkins when I buy coffee. I grab a fistful and raise no alarms or eyebrows. My table at home has a mountain of these coffee shop napkins. I use them to wipe my mouth after brushing my teeth, and sometime to wipe a certain bodily fluid off my person. I used to steal Java Jackets, as I believe they were called. One line of products that is used to insulate coffee cups was called Java Jackets, and I horded over 100 of them. I don’t even remember why I amassed those things but I stopped doing that. I save and make frequent reuse of the so-called single-use disposable bags formerly used at grocery stores. Bodegas and some other stores are still allowed to use them, and I have a massive collection, including one in my back pocket of these pants I am wearing. I keep it there in case I make a purchase and do not want to pay 50 cents for a bag I will likely never resue since I have so many so-called single use bags to get through. That’s not really stealing but it feels like it. I steal time from my employer. I play video games and write stories like this on company time, and to be honest I have no problem with it. I don’t think anybody does, or would if they knew about it. I felt like a criminal when I first started doing these things. IN a way I guess I still do but the reality is that this type of work allows for what I guess would be called a perk. This ramble is not going where I imagined, which is not to say I had a plan. Being poor is better than being dead. Or is it? Does poverty make a difference when you’re dead? Of course not. So it’s a moot comparison. I slept well last night. Good sleep is a form of wealth.