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I need someone to help me. I see the world as if from the top of a mountain, detached from the ordinary. I don’t crave a good job—not because I’m lazy, but because I feel like I’ve stepped out of the matrix. Working at Google and earning $150,000 a year isn’t enough for me. I see the flaws in others, and the world feels like a video game filled with characters.

The only thing that would truly make me happy is to become a millionaire, to travel the world, and to live a good life. I’m poor—I don’t even have enough money to buy a used car—but I have the mindset of a millionaire. I’m a millionaire trapped in the body of a poor man.

If someone in their final days doesn’t know who to leave their money to, I’d be grateful for their help. Money has no value in the next world—it stays here.