Don't worry, friend. It will all get better.
I used to have a pretty severe case of depression. It was probably genetics, because my grandma has depression (she tried to commit suicide a few months ago, but she's alright) and someone on my mom's side of the family committed suicide when I was about 4.
Anyways, it started when my mom died when I was 10. I knew it was going to happen because she had cancer, so I guess I was "prepared" for it. I still cried, of course, but after her funeral, I never cried for a few years. I moved schools in fifth grade, and then moved again in sixth.
Sixth is when the depression started. I sat with some people at lunch, and I talked from time to time, but I only did that so I wouldn't be a loner. I never really felt like I was close to them. I started eating a lot and got overweight. People then began to make fun of me behind my back. Luckily I didn't know about it then. I only found out the next year.
Around November or December, age 12-ish, I tried committing suicide twice. They were half a**e attempts. It was definitely a plea for help. One of them, I cut my wrists and tried to bleed out. The other one, I wrapped a necklace, given to me by my mother, around the drain of the bathtub in intricate knots, and put the water on. It probably could have worked if I wanted it to, but as I started gasping for air, I realized I was scared to die. I didn't want to go to hell, become nothing, be forgotten, or whatever happens when you die.
I started getting therapy. I hated it. The therapist I had acted like she knew me. Believe me, she didn't.
After about 6 months of that lady, I went to some hospital to get group therapy with 5 other girls. I remember one of them saw both of her parents die. I felt bad for her.
The best part of that was at the end of the session when we got brownies, cookies, and all sorts of goodies.
Then I got prescribed a pill. A depression pill, or whatever they're called. I told myself to make sure it doesn't work, because I didn't want my parents to be right that I had depression. So, for about 7 months, it didn't do anything.
But then I started theatre in 8th grade, age 13-ish. I loved it. I started opening up and talking to people. I became a completely new person. I began to love life, and realize how stupid I was back then. Here I was, in a first-world country, wanting to die because my life sucked? When people in other countries were going through things I couldn't even imagine at the time? Bah.
So, now I'm in 9th grade (age 14 at the moment). I'm in theatre, and I am super involved in it. I have a 6 hour rehearsal tomorrow. That'll be nice.
I've lost all of the weight I gained, and I feel much happier. It's all good.
TL;DR
Find an activity you love. If you don't love any activities, try things out until you figure out that you love something.
