The other day, for no particular reason, I didn’t want to do anything. Even placing a cup in the dishwasher seemed draining. It wasn’t a matter of “Go buy some bubble bath and it will pass.”
To try to cope, I listed the positive aspects of my life, as Rosetta does in the Dardenne brothers’ film. Good physical health, cozy little apartment, creativity, beauty, enough money, and the affection of my friends, of my Love, and of some members of my faily—wait, not faily: family… In short, everything should have been fine, except it wasn’t; I couldn’t drag myself out of the depressive funk.
In another attempt, I put on my All Bets Are Off playlist, which includes “The Number of the Beast” by Iron Maiden. And for the first time, the lyrics struck me as a revelation. Satan’s work is done.
That was the problem. He worked hard: his job is done for years to come.
