I Feel Like Crying and I Don't Know Why

I think I'm depressed. Like, really, I think something's wrong with me. Why? Because I watched the Glee season finale and feel like crying. The weird part is that it was a really happy episode, which should have left me with, you know, a happy feeling, but I'm not. I can't...feel happy emotions anymore for some reason. It's so bizarre.
I really want to be home schooled next year so I don't end up killing myself. 'Cause I'm always beating myself up about how I'm so different from everyone and that I have this thing which makes me hate people simply because they pop their gum. Like, that's not normal. This summer, I've realized that I don't really do that so much, unless my dad walks into the room chewing ice cubes or because I can't go to the movies for fear of a popcorn eating person sitting next to me.
Today my sister, Kristen, found out that this girl she knew in elementary school committed suicide and she watched the entire funeral on a Facebook video. I don't want that to be me. Like, dude, I actually want to live! And it's scary for me to think that my condition would put me over the edge.
For people like me, school is torture. Sitting next to a gum-popper is the equivalent of someone pulling your teeth out with pliers or shoving bamboo shoots up your fingernails. For someone like me individually, who doesn't like to bother other people, I'll sit there and take it. For me, it's hard because every part of my mind begs me to ask a kid to stop eating their potatoe chips or spit out their gum, but because of the way I am, I don't want them to deny their small pleasures.
Another thing is as a child, I was always told to deal with it whenever I asked someone to stop chewing so loudly because it didn't bug anybody else. So, even though now my family is understanding, and it's more than okay with most people to put away their snack for another time, I feel like something's telling me to deal with it. And most of the time, I do, and people now get angry because I didn't tell them I was being bothered. Or, at least that's what it's like at home. I just hate feeling like I'm being self-centered. I know the world doesn't revolve around me, so I try not to act like it does.
Since my family and I have known I'm not crazy since December, they've gradually somewhat changed their ways. My brother, bless his heart, always takes his cereal downstairs to the computer int he basement in the morning. My mom stopped finally made a choice on her own not to buy tortilla chips anymore this week. My dad, when I remind him, always stops chewing his ice. Kristen, my sister, (while she totally doesn't seem to care), asks me if it's okay to eat anything at any time. She still doesn't understand that I can't control my reactions, and she doesn't get why I'm so depressed about it. She thinks I can get over it. But here's the thing: I CAN'T.
Hopefully, I could still attend my school part time or something, but I really don't want to be in a classroom at any time. School is a nightmare. Unfortunantly, it's also where there are great art classes, creative writing classes, and a fantastic drama department. But does highschool even really matter? I mean, who needs friends, right? They only keep you company, make you laugh, and hang out with you when you're bored.
It's going to be a long three years.

~ Steph