I was born and raised in a small village in a small country—one they call “Third World” or the “North Korea of Africa.” My real family? They’re still stuck in that desperate situation.

For 18 years, I held on—for the children, for their chance to be saved. But I don’t care anymore.

While y’all grew up in mansions, I came up from the real dirt. And instead of giving me even pocket change, you keep me poor. You’ve got me working six out of seven days just to make ends meet, while my family still lives in a so-called “Third World” country.

Make it make sense. Honestly, I’d like for all of you to take your own. Fair is fair.