I just let someone down. It feels awfully wicked to say; as if I have done something like murdering a newborn puppy or wearing socks with sandals or becoming a radical dictator, or something. When in fact, all I did, was say no. It’s crazy to think I have always struggled with saying no. The word itself, whilst only one syllable with two obstinate letters, can be used for both good and evil. And perhaps that is what makes it so powerful.

Some people are more likely to say it than others. I know a girl who uses it quite affectionately, as one may use the word ‘the’ or ‘and’ or ‘ridiculous’ (I struggle with cutting down the usage of that one from my vocabulary); fondly throwing it into the air if somebody dares ask for a carrot stick or would like her to accompany them to the printer. She lives for herself, and herself only.

I am not one of those people.

Every second day, I’m reading over somebody’s Physics assignment or lending them my sharpener AGAIN or looking after their stuff. I am a self-confessed pushover,  being pushed at each request, and yet I feel saying that one little word is the only thing that would pull me back up.

So you begin to get a reputation for it. And suddenly, you’re everyone’s best friend, if only for a split second when it benefits them. You begin to become a YES sort of person. But it’s a vacuum, a vacuum that sucks you into to things you don’t want to do and things you don’t have time to do. And it starts to become something of a chore.

I am not advocating that you reject every cry for help or start to refuse every event and hide out in your bedroom. A balance between the anti-carrot-stick-sharer and me would most likely be ideal. But if you’re to take something out of this article, it’s to start to say no a bit more. Nothing happens. You’re going to be okay. 



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