The push. Difficult for me.
It’s hard. It’s hard to do a lot of things. It’s hard to be alone. It’s hard to do it alone.
But isn’t harder to get up every morning and not see change as being possible? To look each day in the face and feel hopeless?
I have talked to you almost every day that I have known you. And you cease to amaze me that you will do nothing to better your situation. You talk a lot and do very little.