My Self Doubt is a cheerful, overweight alcoholic version of me with a cute smile and an air of confidence that makes it easy to believe every word she says. She loves to remind me what I cannot do, and she’s full of opinions about what the future is bound to look like. She moonlights as a realist and masquerades as a friend who only wants to save me from embarrassment, but it’s hard to tell where her honesty ends and the hopelessness begins. Some days I listen to her. “It’s impossible,” she says matter-of-factly, pouring herself another glass of her current drink of choice. “No matter how much you…