We're walking home from the train after a delicious night of Italian food, good conversation, and wine, but my earlier-in-the-day despair is still rearing it's head, and Katie is doing her best to talk me down.
"The problem is," I say for the thousandth time as the wine sloshes around in my head a little, "that I don't think I can do what I want to do."
"You always have these reasons why you can't do something," Katie says, clearly exasperated with me. "I'm sorry if I sound a little harsh or something, but you lack drive."
One year ago: Spider Senses Tingling
Two years ago: The Art of Unfucking Your Morning
Three years ago: Good Intentions
Four years ago: Come for the Meatballs, Stay for the Glimpse of the Abyss