I drank most of it that night, sitting on the futon sofa, and before I went to sleep, I picked up my journal and scrawled: I’m so depressed. Please make this feeling go away. I don’t know to whom that please was addressed: some external force, I suppose, some abstract sense of a fate that loomed in the distance, or an energy with the power to shape circumstances in my favor and change me, from the outside in.
