WHEN I WOKE UP THIS MORNING, DEPRESSION WAS SITTING BY MY BED DRINKING MY COFFEE. He asked me how I’d slept and I told him Insomnia, his troublesome son, had kept me up most of the night. “I’m sorry,” he said, a sardonic grin on his unsightly face. “Well I have seven things to tell you before you get up…”
Exhausted, I begrudgingly assented.
“Very well,” he said, leaning in for effect. He spoke in an ominous whisper, with the authority of an expert.
“First, when you think about it, there’s really no point in getting up today. Nothing good will come of it.”
“Second, today is most certainly the day something terrible will happen. I have a feeling we’ll make an embarrassing mistake that will get us fired. It will all be downhill from there. We’ll lose our house, and our kids will grow up poor… just like we did.”
“Third, let’s be honest with ourselves, we’re really quite stupid. I don’t know how we’ve had any successes up to now. We’re lucky no one knows what a fraud we are.”
“Fourth, I am sure that we are the ugliest person in the world. Hideous!”
“Fifth, it’s going to be so humiliating when we lose everything. But really! We didn’t deserve anything anyway.”
“Sixth, we’re not the same as other people. They’re all so smart, good-looking, and happy.”
“Seventh, it’s terribly sad that nobody likes us, not even our family.”
“Is that it?” I asked, lifting my lead-filled body and placing both feet on the uneven floor.
“Yes,” Depression replied. “That should do for today.”
And with great pride and self-satisfaction, he leaned back and took a long, slurping sip from my favorite coffee cup.
“Thank you,” was all I could muster.
And with that, I walked out to the edge of the dock, stepped into my boat, and set sail on a dark sea, into the fog, and on another hero’s journey.