I’m not running a clinic.
I want to help people when I can. But when I don’t have the resources, I have to help myself first.
I don’t owe you my attention, my sympathy, my goodwill. You earn that by treating me with respect and kindness.
I’m not running some kind of free-t0-the-public clinic where I try to treat humankind’s mental problems and anguishes.
If you’re my blood relative, my longtime friend, my neighbor, or my fellow man, I will try to help where I can. When I am capable. If you try to force me, to demand that I fixate on you, that I react to your provoking shenanigans, if you insist I must feel compelled to treat each and every person on this earth, in this teeming metropolis, on this infinite internet, with the sort of energy I’m using to stay free of destructive habits and thought patterns, to keep my own mental health steady, and live a gentle and peace loving existence where I don’t suffer fools, to you, my fine person, to you I say:
I am not running a clinic.