AInt it messed up?

He never meant to get in trouble. The creditors just came and tried to help him, tried to give him that instant satisfaction that he wanted. Tried to make him feel good about the spending, hey he could always pay them back later. That was long before the phone calls, before he had been caught in their trap. Now here he was trying to sell his art, trying to make some headway trying to get out of the debt, the trap he had sprung. The problems was when there was a monthly finance charge that matched the minimum payment there was no real way to get free. No other way short of the death of a long lost relative or a winning lottery or big winning in Wendover. It was a mess, yet there was no real way out of it. He had tried to pay more than the minimum but it never caught up, the headway was never made, and in the meantime he loans from friends drove a huge barrier between the two of them. He was trapped, like a fly to flypaper, the more he struggled against it the more it tied him down. He ate too much, he liked the nicer things too much. The only problem is that when you are born broke, how can you learn to not be and in fact be free from a debited life. How can you have the things you want without feeling like you will have to wait until you are too old to enjoy them. There was no way out, and as he lay on the bed contemplating selling his own organs for a way to be free he cried, cried into the pillow in the apartment where rent was past due for another month. There was no way out, and he didn't know what to do about it.