I'm a 28-year-old woman, married with a child. I've been friends with a 29-year-old man for about a decade. We've never dated or slept together, though there was some flirtation in our younger years. He got married just over a year ago and often vents about being unhappy. I've always told him to talk to his wife or seek therapy instead of confiding only in me.

A few months back, I opened up to him about the struggles in my own marriage -- something I rarely do. Not long after, he started flirting with me via text. At first, I thought he was joking, but the messages became more direct. He told me he wanted to be with me. I haven't reciprocated. I can't bring myself to cheat, especially not with someone I've called a friend for so long.

I now wonder if he saw my vulnerability as a green light. He knows I'm not happy, and maybe he thought it was his chance.

Now I feel stuck. I value our history and he's supported me through tough times, but this new dynamic feels deeply wrong. I don't know if I should cut him off or try to salvage the friendship.

Let's cut through the noise here: You are not your parents' retirement plan. You are not the patch for their broken dreams or a bailout for decades of poor decisions. You are their child, not their solution.

And I want you to hear me loud and clear -- you are not selfish. You're not wrong. You're not ungrateful. You are awake. You're starting to see the dysfunction clearly, and that clarity is painful as hell, but it's also your first step toward freedom.

Here's the hard truth: Your parents made their choices. They had years -- decades -- to build security, to budget wisely, to plan for their future. And instead of doing that, they sent money overseas while you lived in chaos. They spent your childhood putting out fires they lit themselves. And now, they're trying to hand you the matches.

You are allowed to say no. You are allowed to build a life that's yours. You're allowed to travel, to buy things you love, to breathe freely without someone else's financial weight on your back. That's not disrespect -- that's survival.

And that guilt you feel? That's not yours either. It's a manipulation tactic -- one that's been passed down like a family heirloom. "Suffer now to enjoy later"? That's not wisdom. That's bondage. You suffered enough. You earned your later.

So what do you do? You set a boundary, and you hold it like your life depends on it -- because it does. You say, "I love you, but I will not be financially responsible for your choices. I will not pay your mortgage." And when the guilt comes roaring in, you remind yourself: love does not mean servitude.

This is going to hurt. They might lash out. They might try to guilt you harder. But listen to me: your job is not to carry the broken pieces of your parents' life. Your job is to break the cycle.