That being the only suitable expression I could come up with to begin.
It seems, to me, that the most annoying clichés are the truest. That, of course, would be the reason that they are clichés.

Old habits die hard.

Depression was once always with me, everywhere that I went, everything that I did. Few things penetrated my constant darkness, few people could shine a light through.
In those times, I became so used to it that I began to carry it with me, not because things were happening that were depressing, but because it was something I could rely on. Something that always stayed the same, no matter what. Daily I would tally off in my head things that were going badly, or might go badly. It was almost an addiction, my depression. Those who tried to help me became frustrated; one very close friend in particular. I couldn't shake it because I wouldn't shake it: I believed that it had become a part of me, and I was afraid of what might happen if I let it go.

But last August, I stopped myself.
In that month, I was hit hard by several events and came rapidly to the realization that the way I had been sitting around and moaning about my life was definitely the WRONG WAY to go about things.

Some people will laugh and say, "Well, duh!" But when one is in the situation, it becomes difficult to look at it objectively. Don't laugh at the misfortunes of others unless they laugh first.

I finally sat down and said, "Okay, that's enough of this shit."
I tore my mental self apart, throwing away things that were dragging me down, dusting off things I had ignored in my wallowing self-induced misery. Then I rebuilt myself from the inside out, and I made a vow. No longer would I fall back on that old internal darkness. No more would I ignore my problems in the daytime, only to cry softly about them in the despairing darkness of night. The past is the past, will always be the past, and can never again be recovered without a time machine. In light of recent happenings, I believe the past should not be tampered with. It should be laid reverently away, like a photo album. It's there to look at, but don't carry it around everywhere or it will drag you down.

I've let myself get pulled off course again.

For the first time since that rebuilding, I am starting to feel the pull of the depths. So far I have been able to push it aside, but I have not yet invoked the strength to banish it entirely. I believe that the Pill is partially responsible: reading that little booklet I received when I started taking them only a week and a half ago, I noticed that depression was sometimes a side effect. When I begin to feel low, I remember that and tell myself crossly, It's the Pill, it's not you, so stop whining and let's get on with life.

In reality, I have very little to be depressed about, if anything. I'm a little anxious about whether or not I'll be accepted at college, if I will get my volunteer hours done in time, and various other little things.
It's not enough to add up to depression.

But it's still odd that I feel it. Perhaps that was the one side effect I felt because it was still hanging around, waiting for the right time to slip in unnoticed and govern my life again.

No more.
Depression got me nothing but a weak will and a constant temptation to lash out at different people during the day. I am still recovering from these, still rebuilding myself, and I wish myself luck on my journey to be who I want to be.

Everyone should have a chance to become what they wish to be. That chance lies within us all; all we have to do is pick it up and use it.

I have to stop ending these with "wise" words. I feel like someone's grandmother.