By CĂ©sar Gauna 
There was a time when “poor” people —those who lived with just enough, who worked as teachers, gardeners, construction workers, or seamstresses— seemed to have everything except money.
They entered a job and retired from it.
They raised children.
They had neighbors, street gatherings, shared mates on the sidewalk.
They weren’t successful —but they had a life.
Today, on the other hand, many of those who “made it” —those who earn well, speak English, code, or hold postgraduate degrees— are on the edge of emotional collapse.
From the outside, everything looks like luxury:
a new laptop, a salary in dollars, remote work.
Inside: loneliness, anxiety, and dark thoughts.
🧠The generation that has everything… except meaning
Juan, a brilliant programmer, changes jobs every six months. He gets laid off, or the contract ends. He lives in fear —not of poverty, but of emptiness.
Pléuto, another example, earns well and reinvests in passive income. He owns a house, a powerful PC, money… and depression. He feels trapped inside his own success.
His sister, drowning in debt, laughs with friends in the town square and wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Tino, who studied, earned a master’s degree, learned languages and built a career, reaches 42 without a partner or children.
Meanwhile, his former classmates —electricians, bricklayers, bus drivers— already have families, barbecues, and grandchildren on the way.
The “winners” feel they lost something they can’t even name: life.
💬 “I don’t have children because the situation is difficult”
That’s the phrase of the moment among the middle and upper classes.
But if it were truly about money, how do we explain that poorer people —living in the same country, with worse salaries and less stability— do get married, do have children, do leave their parents’ homes?
Maybe the truth is different:
those at the top aren’t poor in money, but in courage.
Or more brutally: they are trapped in a culture where everything must be perfect before living.
First the degree, then the master’s, then the trip, then the house, then therapy, then… never.
Meanwhile, others live with less fear and more vital impulse.
They know life isn’t planned —it’s inhabited.
💔 The price of “success”
Modernity sold us a trap: success without community.
We were convinced that happiness meant climbing the economic ladder, even if it meant stepping off the human one.
That we had to study, compete, stand out.
And we did.
But at the end of the road, applause is not enough to fill the silence of an empty home.
The loneliness of the well-off classes is no accident.
Remote work, alienating schedules, meritocracy, and the pressure to “be your best version” have destroyed the simple pleasure of being with others.
And in that world, even love becomes a project —not a refuge.
🌱 The illiterate grandfather and the college-educated grandson
Your grandfather, who couldn’t read or write, was braver than many MBA holders.
Your grandmother, with incomplete primary school, built more future than any productivity influencer.
Because they didn’t wait for the “ideal moment” to live: they lived anyway.
They had no health insurance, no cryptocurrencies, no job stability.
But they had something almost no one has today: emotional certainty.
They knew who they were, who they loved, and with whom they wanted to share life.
We, instead, have diplomas, followers, and dollar accounts… but don’t even know who to have lunch with on Sunday.
🕯️ Epilogue: the life you can’t buy
The 21st century produced a new form of poverty:
the emotional poverty of success.
A class of people who earn well but don’t dare to live.
Who fear mistakes more than death.
Who confuse “postponing” with “preparing.”
Perhaps this generation’s challenge isn’t to earn more, but to dare to live with less fear.
Because money is useless if what’s missing is a hug.