I keep forgetting that I am intolerant to stupidity and laziness. I try to adjust to people’s flaws, but I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t be everything to all people. I can’t be their personal savior. I can not bear the weight of their faults, their sins, their human nature. I will not. If they think that I should, then through me they shall know the fires and suffering of hell rather than the tranquility and comfort of heaven. Actually, if I had the power to, I would not help them because I believe that it is a privilage to experience it, not a right. And we know that privilages are earned and can be taken away.

“I can’t help you anymore,” I said, exasperated. “Hekping you, no, carrying your weight hurts me. It’s about time you pull your own weight.” “You’re crying because you have to help me?” “No. I’m not crying nor do I have to help you. Do it yourself.” He did, and he failed.