Money.
How valuable can a thing so fragile be? (Unless you count in coins, of course.)
India Ink on paper, modeled into intricate, elaborate, coded designs. A little bit of glitter paper here, a coffee stain they so conveniently call a 'watermark', and oh, I almost forgot...the ever-present hypnotizing dollar-sign-and-digit.
There you have it, money.
Just because some machine prints out a piece of paper and labels it with a "$50" sign, it's worth 50 bucks? Can someone PLEASE tell me where the logic in that is? Oh, oh, maybe it's about the BRANDING.
Right, right. Putting Mr Yusof Ishak's face on a piece of paper automatically makes it WORTH something. Riddle me this: Why then are there different values when they ALL have our first President's face on them?
Fuck that shit.
Every thing's breaking down. My mom's stalling from buying me things I really need. I don't have a fucking job.
I feel OBLIGATED.
I don't wanna feel OBLIGATED. Not until I get job, anyway. Now, with a job, I could pay off those obligations. And it doesn't help that this feeling of obligation sets in - and sets in HARD - every FUCKING TIME I see her face.
Ayah, why now.
I need a job.
I need money.
I need a JOB.
Now you know.