Mood lifts a little tiny bit and then you're all: was it really that bad?

Then it rolls downhill for no clear reason, the thoughts start up again, you're wringing your hands... yes, it really was that bad.

I feel like I'll be able to sleep, though. That's good. I tend to be able to sleep. I realize I'm lucky in that regard.

It's funny how I can put up with being physically sick and say I don't need meds. It's only been a day! Unless it's serious, I could wait a week, maybe longer. But depression? It makes me feel like a weak pansy that can't put up with a little pain. That just complains and whines and should just get off their butt and effing do something instead of being a total waste of space that doesn't deserve to live.

Yeah, I should probably sleep.