10. Breathe Again

Have you ever had a really long day?
You know the kind I'm talking about, the kind where for no explainable reason, you wake up wanting nothing more than to stay in bed. The kind where everything you love feels like a waste of time. The type of day where you curse the people around you for being so damn cheerful, because their problems don't come into play on days like today. No, today you are alone, filled with disappointment, while the sun glistens overhead like a joyful disco ball. And you are the wallflower.
Ever had one of those weeks?
A week is seven days long, but this one feels like it's been at least a month. You can't distinguish events from one day to the next. Everything simply runs together in a big, meaningless blur. You want to snap out of your funk, but every time you expect someone to come over and wake you up from your gloom, nothing works. You bite their head off, they walk off pretending not to be offended, but in truth you've lost a friend until you feel better.
Suppose you don't feel better come the weekend.
So you stay in every evening.
Another long week melts into a very, very long month. A month you will never get back. A month you might have unwillingly spent writing off every safe haven you've got in this world. Your friends hate your guts, your hobbies do nothing to cheer you up, your talents leak away, you're in a slump. You don't want to talk to anyone. Your favorite haunts cannot comfort you, not today, not tomorrow.
It's been one whole year.
One year of milk cartons, of newspapers, of glitter folders and paper clips. A year worth of coffee runs, of dates both memorable and forgettable. An entire year, and you are still upset. Now, you have nothing to live for. In just a year, you've lost yourself, and your purpose.
You are still obsessing over that one bad day you had all the way back when this bout of depression started. You think of the life you whiled away before that awful day, how well you slept, how much you laughed, how much you didn't care about your mistakes.
You made things. You took action. You fell in love and lived your life, completely and wholly.
And one nihilistic day stole all of that away from you.
At this point, you have a chance, but only one. You can pick up your neglected phone and give an old friend a call. Do not think of their reaction when they hear from you. Perhaps they will surprise you. They might warm up to you again. Maybe you catch them at the perfect time, just when they are lonely and long to hear someone else's voice. Talk to them. Make them laugh. Feel better. Earn your right to live a year in happiness back.
Drink your coffee, drink your milk. Call more friends. Call distant family. Read books, write them. Make music, make art. Make mistakes. Laugh. Fall in love.

There will be no dipping a toe in the water; fall in.

Have you ever sat back come New Years Day and wondered aloud, "Gee, this year went by like that, didn't it?"

You should.