Warning: The following contains enough cliched teenage angst to make the strongest stomachs turn. All apologies.

I have been dealing with 'depression' since I was eight years old, when the harassment of the other kids got too extreme. I was completely ostracized from everyone else, and began contemplating a way out, but did not actually make an attempt on my life until I was thirteen.
And then, for a few months, everything got better.
Somewhere there in the middle of eighth grade, I learnt social skills. I gained a sense of style, I read Oscar Wilde and Jean-Paul Sartre. For a few months I had perfection. An attractive older boyfriend, delightful friends, no being stuffed in trash cans and pushed in to lockers. Everything felt so perfect.
But after the summer ended, my mother moved us 1300 miles away. I was distressed by the loss of my friends, of the place for myself I had just found, but I thought everything would be different now and it would be a grand adventure.
Over two years have passed, and I have no friends here, no hobbies, no real future. I've been basically out of school since the beginning of this year. Mentally, I haven't matured at all in the last two years and that frightens me so much. My best friends from my old home haven't called once since I moved, so eventually I stopped calling too, but I still feel like I can't live with out them. I can't relate to anyone in this tiny new england town, and I feel my prospects slipping away like sand in an hourglass. I sleep all day, and when my mother screams at me about it I just sleep more. For awhile I tried going to counselors, but nothing really comes out of it. I've been on several antidepressants, but I feel that this is a problem with my life in general and therefore won't be fixed by synthetic chemicals. I don't have any real passions anymore, I can't think like I used to. I don't really have any hopes or dreams. So really, what's the use of living? I keep on trying because I think I'll feel like I did the summer of 2008 again, but these years feel like millenia. And in the end I don't really believe it will come back at all.

But I don't want to make my grandmother cry. She's really all I care about. She's an old lady you see, pushing ninety, and losing a grandchild? It would devastate her. Even if I don't believe I'm worthy of devastation, I know it would. So what do I do?

And those who say 'Suicide is a permanant solution to a temporary problem' yadayadayada, this hasn't been temporary. This has been my life for as long as I can remember. And I'm so sick of just curling up in bed and shaking all night.