raw.

I'm annoyed.

Well, let me push my annoyance aside for a second exclaim my happiness for my friend Megan who was married this past weekend. I hope I look as beautiful and elated as she did. I also hope that my friends bring jello shots to my wedding.

But now back to my annoyance. . .I'm annoyed that I'm placing conditions on my happiness. That tiny word, if, catalyzed every tear, every worry, every regret.

If only I moved to Charleston, I wouldn't be so lonely, I wouldn't feel the pressure to get a "real" job, I wouldn't have to work so hard to make friends.

If only I stayed at home, I wouldn't have trouble saving money, I would be able to find a permanent position, I wouldn't be in such debt, I wouldn't be so sad, I wouldn't be so lonely.

If only I moved to San Diego, I would be so much closer to the beach, have so much to be happier about at the beach, would be so much more relaxed.

I have a disease. People call it laziness, ungratefulness, weakness. They call it a lot of things when they don't want to understand that someone's mind is constantly cloudy, constantly riddled with run on sentences and unfinished paragraphs. Or they call it nothing and avoid it, avoid the listlessness I so effortlessly embody.

I call it depression. I've just recently begun to admit to myself that I have this disease, but hesitate to mention it to others. But surely, it must be obvious.

• Loss of appetite. Check.
• Feelings of hopelessness. Check.
• Withdrawal from activities and loved ones. Check and check.
• Changes in sleep pattern. Check.
• Low energy. Check.
• Wanting to disappear for a long time. Check.

Perhaps you feel some of the above symptoms occasionally. What about every day? Does it affect your existence? Does it affect your loved ones? Does it affect your health? I'll naively guess that it doesn't. I'll naively guess that you don't cry yourself to sleep or shy away from co-workers or resist applying to jobs because of detrimental thoughts about yourself.

So, I'm annoyed that my depression caused me to make a rash decision. Move to California! Run away! Certainly yes, it had been a dream of mine to move to California since I was in high school. And of course I was looking for adventure. But I didn't stop to think if it was the right time. I didn't stop to consider whether I needed more time to get better. See, before I left I was told by a health professional that I was depressed. I treated it half-heartedly with a month of therapy, then decided moving away from my problem would be the best long term medication. How silly of me to think that. How ridiculous of me to not realize the problem is myself.

And now I'm annoyed again because the grass is always greener, especially sprinkled with some hindsight.

So what do I do? Do I complain to you reader that you don't know how tedious and unrewarding it is to rifle through job search engines like CareerBuilder all day and not hear back from any of them? To work an unfulfilling job as a retail puppet? To have no money to escape from my ever growing list of regrets permeating through my brain cells?

How do I assess what I want from what I want to escape from?