FOR A LONG TIME, I have felt like a billionaire trapped in a middle class person’s body.

This psychological condition is so intractable, it must be innate. It has caused me acute distress, especially lately because I need a billion dollars so that I can give it all away to people I know could really use it. I could make a big difference if I had those bucks.

I just have this feeling. This inescapable feeling. I’m a billionaire, or maybe just a millionaire, but society refuses to recognize me as such. Yesterday, I was so surprised at the bill at the grocery store that I was overcome by a dysphoric attack of great intensity. I was trapped in a social construct — an economic identity assigned at birth without my consent.

The bank refuses to recognize me as a billionaire. Car dealers, utility companies, the construction industry — they all refuse to see the truth. That’s discrimination. Just because I don’t have millions doesn’t mean that inside, where it really counts, I’m not loaded. No foundations or organized psychologists are out there to help people like me transition to the super rich.

The world is a cruel place. I know a man who lives in a tiny mobile home, all because he is an unrecognized billionaire. His suffering is totally ignored. Maybe those who share the same disorder can someday organize. We should make our plight known because as things stand we are a horribly persecuted minority. It’s not necessary that we be given billions. Not at all. But we definitely need to be treated by everyone, especially banks and retailers, as if we have them.

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