How does it feel live extremely poor life?

The post is originally collected from Quora.

A little boy awakened from his sleep. He wasn't tired; he didn't sleep so well. He had nothing to do, so he sat upon his bed, looking back to grab his beloved dirty pillow. Played it like an ordinary child would do with their toys.


At some point, he felt something in his pillow, many small granules inside. Curiosity upon a five years old boy, he made a small hole to take them out. He took the granules on his hand, and tasted it. Surprised, it tasted like an oily fried peanut. That little boy got excited to eat them all.


The cotton was all over the bed. This little boy tried to put them back in after he found all the granules and ate them. He decided to sleep again because of his empty stomach. He couldn't sleep, he suddenly felt dizzy. A headache attacked him, the whole room was spinning; he was about to vomit.


"What happened?" His mom asked.


She found out about his pillow and her throat was strangled. She tried to hide her tears, mad to herself that she can't feed her son. Her son was poisoned by the cotton seed from his rank pillow; the only pillow they could afford. She knew his son was always sleeping because he was hungry, just to distract his empty stomach. She knew her son will eat anything because he was starving.

Those seeds were undone cotton, which had always been in every cheap-jack pillow. Hunger was the biggest enemy, the hardest feeling to hide. Hunger was something disgraceful.


How strong his mind is now, that he didn't want his childhood to happen ever again. How humiliating that moment was for him. Poverty is severe.


That little boy, was my dad.