Thank God I’m not an accountant.

At 18, you enter a magical world filled with a seemingly endless stream of objects to meet your every desire.

Satisfaction becomes harder to fulfil, and the things that you own and the things that you owe become equally higher and higher.

You move out and you’ve got a whole new home to create with trinkets, and items galore. You do the maths, and based on what you have, of course you’re assured that you can afford this and lots, lots more.

The kid comes along, and your first home is gone, and the cost of living just keeps on increasing. You sacrifice pay, so you can stay home and play with your child and it’s delightfully pleasing.

The phone calls you end, and the letters they send end up filling your bin. You then reach a point where you have no other choice but stand up and face the mess that you’re in.

In five years time, all will be alright. A chance to start completely anew. Face the problem head on, admit you’ve done wrong. It’s no easy, I did it. How about you?

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