So I've written several times before, whining about how my depression seems to be coming back. And then I don't go to the doctor, because I start feeling better ... or so I think. At least about the big things. I realized just now how insidious all the little symptoms are. Tonight after work I went for a long drive, just because; I drove twenty miles up into the foothills, listening to melancholy songs the entire time. Then I came home curled up on my couch and watched some tv. And cried over stupid things. And continued crying.

What really hit me, though, was when I was reading through some blogs. Because if I were feeling normal, I'd be commenting. Instead, I read, and I say nothing, because I feel like there's a wall between me and everyone else. And I didn't even really realize it until now, because it's just been so slow to come on. I thought I was just tired, or just stressed, or just irritated at my coworkers, or ... I don't know. But for some reason it clicked tonight. This is how I spent years feeling. I have got to go to the fucking doctor, I have got to deal with this, I cannot let it keep going on. I'm barely hanging on, I'm going to go right over the edge and back in to the abyss of failing classes and shit again.