Fewer and farther apart

Why do stores assume that every fat person is 5'4" tall (or shorter) with an obsession for loud patterns and all things hideously gaudy? If I wasn't already depressed enough following my therapy appointment this afternoon, I sure as hell was after attempting to do some clothes shopping. Unfortunately, I walked out of two stores with nothing but disgust, so I have to try again tomorrow.

Depression was, and still is, the mood of the day. The "if I'm not already crying, I'm constantly on the verge of tears" variety. I'm honestly not sure which is worse...feeling absolutely nothing or feeling immense sadness for no apparent reason. When I'm in the clutches of one, I desperately long to be in the other.

The little glimpses of light, where I get to rest, catch my breath and maybe even feel happy seem fewer and farther apart. Sometimes I don't even notice them anymore because they are so faint.