On Poverty

Yesterday, I went to the free clinic in town. I was having some bowel problems, and many signs were pointing towards a cancer of the colon. I will admit, I felt a little like a hypochondriac. I probably was at that time.

I walked in, and I saw so many people crowded into a small room. There was food that was reserved for people who would be going hungry that night. I realized something. I am in poverty. Which wouldn't make all that much sense, really.

I live in my parent's basement (not for long... once I get some money rolling in, it won't be very long before the move out date). It's a house in a very expensive part of the country. The house itself, despite all the major issues it has, is worth a pretty penny these days, even after the housing crisis. My dad makes enough to keep a roof over our heads, and some food on the table to feed himself, my mom, and the three brothers I have that still live here. And yet, I realized that while I have it good, I DON'T have the money to pay my own student loans and private debts. I don't have health insurance. I felt that I was actually living in poverty.

How is it possible to live both in the lap of semi luxury (well, luxury for this time and place), and yet, still not be an independent person?

Food for thought,