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I wanted to share with you all an issue that’s been bugging me for days (wait, no, YEARS) that is poetry related: Will I die in Poverty?

I’ve tried to not over think this but, I can’t help it. I’ve wanted to write for a living since I was 12, when all my friends read my poetry and school and called it beautiful (wanted.to.faint) and when I realised the joy (and somewhat high) I got from expressing my thoughts in words, from reading a poem written 4 years ago and reliving the same emotion I was in when I wrote it be it failing my 10th grade math test to graduation. It was epic.

So don’t get me wrong, I’m not in writing for money. At all. I’m simply obsessed with words ( I frigging read the dictionary as a hobby). But I’ll be honest, I don’t wanna live (or die) in a state of penury. I don’t like not having money ( I’m an obsessive saver) It scares me.
Plus, I inherited a love of travelling from my mother and a fascination with shiny things from my dad. I know poets are portrayed as the under appreciated underdogs of the arts, but is that really necessary? Really? 

I’m sorta lucky, I’m kinda young and just building my audience  (17 right now) and I’m studying for a degree in Accounting (in no way related to poetry, I know) so I guess I have hope .

Any thoughts?