Fight depression, not myself.

I’ve finally realized/admitted it to myself, finally: I can’t do it alone. There. I can’t do it alone. It’s not so hard to admit.

If you have a heart condition you see the doctor and fix it.

I need a professional to fix this.

Gotta stay busy, no matter how I feel, no matter how I drag my feet. That is the only way to be above it.

Yes, my job certainly isn’t helping any.

But, let’s look at what exactly I’m doing to help myself:
—browse the net and read fluff.
—shop.
—nothing. just sit and fume and sigh and stay pissed off at everything.

I know I can’t just will myself out of this, but maybe that behavior is a big part of this problem.

I was just noticing the other day how long it has seemed since I’ve been depressed. Then, bam.

It is so strange how in my lucid times I can’t fathom having depression. And now I am depressed I cannot fathom being happy. I don’t know what’s true. Whenever I think I am finally free, it returns.

Today I am just sick of everything. Everything annoys me. I cannot just be left alone when I want to be; everything is in my face. I’m so sick of it all.