I want action. No more excuses.

Julie isn't having fun any more.  That's the problem. If she's to continue as my friend, I'm requiring that she have fun. I don't want morose friends. They need to shape up. And be happy. Sad, sad friends are a burden. A nuisance. Similar to an albatross hanging around one's neck. I want friends that know how to savor life. The little things. The big things. Everything. I'm putting Julie on notice. She must meet my criteria for friendship. She's depressed. And drinking. Which exacerbates a deplorable situation. But Julie could get well again. If she went in for treatment. What Julie has is curable. Treatable. But Julie has to take the initiative. And pull her self up. By the bootstraps, if necessary. I insist upon it. And I'm willing to help. That is, if Julie shows even a tiny bit of inclination to help herself. It's time for action, Julie.  I want action. No more excuses. Time to make life fun once again. --Jim Broede