Before.

This just sets up everything I guess. Tell me how you feel about it! Any review is highly appreciated!

Late in the winter of my sixteenth year I realized that I was depressed. Mainly because everything that I wanted to accomplish simply bored me now or that I never looked forward to anything. Ever.
I knew that people were starting to notice; judging from the overly sympathetic looks I got at school, or the hugs at home that seemed to last longer everytime that I was hugged.
People always say that being socially awkward is a side effect of being depressed, but in fact I believe that everything is a side effect. The things that you used to do as a child that brought you joy no longer existed. Its a difficult concept to understand, but everyone gets it eventually.
It wasn't always this way. I can tell you now that I was never popular, or that good looking. I never grew up in a family of wealthy parents, and I was the only boy in the house. However, I was happy.
My Aunt always told me to "cheer up", or "look on the bright side", that to me is meaningless now. I've grown up since then and I know that saying that won't help me..or anyone for that matter.
I can remember vividly the happiest point of my childhood. It was like it was yesterday. I was 12, and that day I finally got to sit in the front seat of my Mom's 2004 Nissan Sentra. At the time I was about 5'4--a normal height for my age, but nevertheless my mind told me that I was 2 feet tall. The front seat was spacious. I could dangle my legs and strectch out my arms. I had the perfect view of everything. That morning I just sat there in the car, not waiting for anything in particular. I watched as the clouds cleared up, and I saw the suns rays blast into my window. The warmth of the rays bounced all throughout the car. I felt my forearm warm up, and I watched as the birds started to fly through the air like they do every morning. A perfect example of clockwork on display. Eveything was perfect...
Not every good moment can last, sadly. One week later my Mom died. I was devastated. I knew she was ill, but I could never imagine that something like that could ever happen to me. I pinched myself over and over again as I thought that if I did it hard enough I would wake up and my Mom would be there making lunch. As I look back, I could have sworn that I'd pinched myself about five hundred times, and that still didn't bring her back.
Usually the family would go to the deceased's funeral, but it didn't happen that way.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar, guys! And what I should I do as I continue?