The dirt of poverty creeps in and infests every corner. You’re so busy worrying and struggling and fighting the world, you don’t notice the dust, dirt, and debris piling up. Then you look around you, and all of a sudden the mess is leering at you from every nook and cranny.
Shame washes over you, and you grab a bucket and a scrub brush, and you set to work. The more you clean, the more you notice is dirty. So, you scrub and scrape until your arms feel like they’re going to fall off. You get to a point where you just can’t move anymore. You look at the progress you made, look at the progress you didn’t make, and your sense of accomplishment dwindles away like the embers of fireworks. Crushing defeat settles in, and you bury your face in something, so you can’t see what a failure you are.