It is my character that is ruining me

I was glad that my brothers had kept my mum entertained with her cell phone earlier on so that I could concentrate on my work.

I was some kept breathless worse than ever with the amount of work piling up.

I remained in my usual contradiating self after all these years, having problems with my priority. I failed to reject friends over and over again.

I could never forget when I was struck with the old Nokia phone that could not read half of my contacts for more than three months, Mike told me he actually planned to buy me an iPhone 4. Even though I did not want him to spend on non-essential items on me, his words had strike me badly.

I could not even fare for myself to help others. The number of times I refused to take a break at the verge of breaking down laughed at me. There were plans for creative as well as critical jobs but I was ransacked totally off my time.

Yes, it was true that I had spent so much time helping others instead of trying to get out of my own poverty, I did not deserve any gift from people who cared so much for my success in life.

I knew my situation well but it was my born character to help others, especially the kind ones. Everytime I stabbed myself to lend my hands to friends, I felt guilty to myself and people who cared for me.

Nobody could understand my woes and few could realize the supposed-to-be little amount of time they could squeeze out from me for their convenience’s sake had stalled the progress of my cumulative result.

I often have to draw myself away from people to avoid more entanglements. Sometimes I mock to myself having to reject freelance jobs that can raise my personal portfolio.

Life has been a great torment all these years.

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