I was born poor.
Not the romantic kind of poor that turns into a Netflix biopic.
Just the usual kind—survival, debt, rationed dreams, and the same rice every day.

I don’t blame anyone for that.
Not my parents. Not the system. Not even God.
Some of us simply draw the shorter straw.

But now I’m 38.
And the poverty I was born into is no longer fate.
It’s a cycle—one I’m either breaking or submitting to.

For over a decade, I did everything they told me would bring success.
Study hard.
Work harder.
Don’t question the routine.
Climb the ladder.
One job became two. Two jobs became seven.
Same shit, different email signature.

Still… nothing changed.
My salary stayed still.
My debts grew legs.
Commitments stacked up like dishes no one volunteered to wash.
Paycheck to paycheck, like a hamster with a necktie.

Then one morning, out of nowhere, that damn HR question came back to me:

“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

I froze.
Because if I stayed where I was, the answer was: Exactly here.
Still tired. Still stuck. Still scared of things I didn’t understand—like investing.

Then she came.
My wife.
With a question of her own.

“Dear… ever thought about investing?”

To be honest?
No.
Not seriously.

Investing always sounded like one of those things rich people do after brunch.
Not something someone like me, who’s counting coins before payday, could even think about.

But that morning, I listened.
Not to her—but to my gut.

It said:
“If you were born poor, that’s not your fault. But if you die poor…?”

That sentence hit harder than any bill ever did.

So, I did the unthinkable.
I opened an investment account.
RM1,000—my first capital.
Not much, but it’s something.
It’s not a guide.
It’s not advice.
It’s a wake-up call—to myself, and maybe to you.

I don’t know if investing is the answer.
Maybe it’s just another shiny scam wrapped in hope.
But I’d rather die knowing I tried,
than die holding onto the assumption that it’s not meant for people like me.

This isn’t about overnight wealth.
This isn’t even about success.
It’s about faith.
Faith that I’ll live long enough to see what happens when I stop obeying the script.

I was 38 when I started.
If you’re younger, great.
If you’re older, that’s fine too.

What matters is this:
Start.
Even if you’re scared.
Even if you’re late.
Even if you don’t believe yet.

Because sometimes, all you need
is to plant one seed
and stay alive long enough to see if it grows.