I know of a certain club, comprised of local samples of the upper-middle class, that meets once a month to discuss matters of finance. Its members are drawn by the prospect of boasting to each other of their immense wealth, and take great pleasure in differentiating themselves from those who lack the means to join their circle. One such participant was a lady in a fur coat with a British accent, who used her time at the meetings to vehemently denounce the poor and downtrodden. Club members were treated to a thousand variations of "The poor are subhuman--why can't we just kill them all?" during her tenure in the organization.
Last year, the members convened in December and found her absent. This was the first meeting she had missed since joining the organization several years prior. She did not reappear for subsequent meetings. Eventually, one of the members grew curious and decided to investigate. What he found shocked everyone.
She had frozen to death on Christmas Day. Apparently, she was a homeless wastrel who had been living on the streets for the last ten years, and had never owned more than a few dollars at a time. She had found the fur coat in a dumpster, and was using it to live out an elaborate fantasy. In retrospect, there had been more than a few signs that something was amiss with her.
This lady is all of us who desire things we cannot have--the difference between her pretenses and ours is wholly superficial.