My Dream of Being Rich (for Real!)
To be honest, I dream about being rich all the time. Not just a little rich—I mean really rich. The kind of rich where I never have to check the price tag again. I see something I like? I buy it. Maybe even two. Why not?
In my dream, I live in a huge house with ten rooms I don’t even use. My bed is so big, I have to roll three times just to get out of it. I have a walk-in closet full of clothes I’ll only wear once, and a fridge full of food I didn’t cook myself. Because rich me has a private chef. He knows exactly how crispy I like my fries and never forgets the sauce. Never.
I don’t drive. I have a driver. And maybe a gold car. No reason, just because it looks cool.
And of course, I’d have a big bathtub with bubbles, lights, and a small TV. I’d watch movies while eating snacks someone else brought me. Oh, and a robot that does my laundry. Because rich people shouldn’t have to fold clothes. It’s the rule.
I’d fly first class, stay in five-star hotels, and visit countries just to eat their desserts. I’d go shopping in Paris, eat sushi in Japan, and maybe buy a small island. Just something cute.
I’d still be kind, of course. I’d help my family, give money to people who need it, and maybe donate to a few good causes. But I’d do it while wearing a really fancy outfit and sunglasses, even indoors.
Right now, I’m still broke. My shopping cart is full online, but I click “remove” more than “buy.” I eat instant noodles and pretend it’s a five-star meal. My spa day is just me taking a long shower with loud music and hoping no one knocks on the door.
But hey, dreaming is free. And maybe one day, I’ll wake up rich. Until then, I’ll keep studying, working, and dreaming big—like, private-yacht-big.
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