If there’s one question I can’t stand, it’s being asked for financial help. No elaborate explanation neededit just rubs me the wrong way. Whether it’s a friend or a relative, that question instantly puts me on edge. I know it might sound harsh, but hear me out: I’ve spent years clawing my way to where I am, building my life from the ground up. I didn’t lean on handouts or beg for assistance, and I’ve always assumed others could do the same.
Maybe it’s a lesson learned the hard way. In the past, I’ve lent money to so-called “friends,†only to watch it vanish into thin air, never to be repaid. That sting of betrayal? It stuck with me. It hardened my resolve: make your own money, hold onto it, and don’t come knocking on my door for a loan. I won’t be showing up at yours, either.
I like to think I’m a decent personpolite, reasonable, even generous in other ways. But ask me for cash, and you’ll see a different side of me. The meaner, no-nonsense version. And you know what? I’m perfectly fine with that. It’s my boundary, forged through experience, and I’m not here to apologize for it.
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