Now I have to preface this by saying that I went to public school, I am the first person in my family to go to university and didn’t know there were colleges in Oxbridge until my second year at university.
But I also grew up in an idyllic 18th century home and went on ski holidays with school, so it’s not so much a trump card on my shoulder as a dauphinoise.
When I didn’t have enough rent, funding for a journalism course, or even buying a ticket to Glastonbury, my parents could rebuke me, knowing that I would give them back.
My life, by any measure, was comfortable and easy, and I did everything I had to do to succeed.
I worked hard, got an education and went straight to work, and the concept of a sabbatical seemed like a financial luxury to those who could afford it, and the pursuit of career advancement was always my focus.
And yet I have absolutely no chance of owning, dooming me to pay £10,000 a year to the worst people in the world; landowners.
My generation was told that if you work hard, you will succeed, that everything is achievable if you put effort into it.
But this is a lie. Success and wealth are not goals that anyone can achieve, no matter what Molly Mae says.
I’m 30 and I see friends and dates buying houses not because they worked harder or did more, but simply because they were already rich to begin with.
The secret to buying a house is to be born into money or have parents in the city where you work so you can live at home and save.
Yet every week we hear reviewers attack us about how we could all save money if we tried a little, gave up our Netflix accounts, or just lived somewhere else.
It has become my generation’s game on the internet to share articles about young people buying their first home, making sure to always mention that they were given a deposit or lived at home.
The stairs were taken up by those above who now taunt us for enjoying a small dinner and TV, as if we should trade 20 years of misery for allowing ourselves some semi-isolated shit somewhere.
But I don’t want to live anywhere else, my job is here and I’d rather shoot in heaven than own in hell.
The average price of a house in the UK rose by £27,000 last year, £2,000 more than the average salary, but we keep hearing from people who are born rich that we can all buy if we are frugal.
It won’t be a revelation to say that wealth makes life easier, but at a time when any millionaire can get a platform for being poor, call it still revolutionary.
We are a generation of abandoned people, and if I read another column of advice from a wealthy homeowner, I will take their house myself.