8 a.m. The alarm goes off. I reach over to my phone to turn it off. Snooze. Snooze. Snooze.

It's 8:30. I have to get up for class. If I don't get up now, I won't make it to class on time. I can get up. I'm going to get up. My eyes drift shut and I don't fight it. I fall back to sleep.

10:30. I wake up to three phone calls and fifty text messages from a few friends (and one from my mom — hi, mom). They're wondering why I wasn't in class, where I am, and what's wrong. I say "It's nothing, I overslept." But it's more than just oversleeping.

11 a.m. I make it to my next class. My friends are there, thankfully taking notes. I can't focus well enough to take them myself. The lights are too bright and the people around us are too loud. Everything going on around me is just too much for me to take in.

Noon. A friend and I get lunch after class. I'm not hungry. I get food at her insistence, but nothing is appetizing. I struggle to finish half of my food. I don't want to eat, I just want to go back to bed.

2 p.m. I sit in the lounge of my building, just killing time until my next class. People come and go, always trying to make conversation, but I can't bring myself to make small talk with them. The small talk takes up too much of what little energy I have.

6 p.m. My classes are finally over for the day. I trudge back to my dorm, struggling with every step I take. I have homework I need to do. Laundry I need to do. I need to take a shower, wash my hair, and wash my face. I have so much to do, but none of the motivation I'd need to do it all.

7 p.m. I get in the shower. I stand there for what seems like forever, just letting the water hit me. My mind is blank. I feel the water scalding my skin, but I don't move to change the temperature. At least I'm feeling something, right? I can't tell the difference between the water and my tears, not even sure why I'm crying.

7:30 p.m. Finally, I'm out of the shower. I put on my pajamas and turn on the TV (Gilmore Girls — always Gilmore Girls). I grab a water bottle and take my medications, after which, I turn off the lights and climb into bed. I'm asleep within minutes.

I relive variations of this day over and over again until the depressive episode passes. It could be a matter of days or it could be weeks. I never know for sure, so I just have to buckle down and brace myself for the worst. I stock my room with water bottles and put my medications within arm's reach. My bed fills with sweaters to burrow in. I'm in emotional lockdown mode.

Everyone handles depression differently. I isolate myself in my room and sleep it off as much as I can. Other people work out, or make an effort to see their friends. No one way is the "right way." The right way is whatever works for you.