Self-Loathing

Before I tell my story I’d like to say a few things. I am not looking for pity or attention. I deserve neither of those. I don’t need anyone to tell me that what I say about myself isn’t true and I’m being to hard on myself. I only wish to get my story out here so that anyone who feels the same way will know that they are not alone.
I’m going to start off with a little background about my family and myself. My mother’s mother was a bi-polar depressive and an alcoholic. Her parents divorced and re-married several times when she was younger. When her parents WERE together, they fought a lot, occasionally getting a bit physical. My mother has depression, was divorced once before. After getting in a fight with her first daughter, my sister, she (my sis) decided to move in with her dad and I didn’t see her again for 3 years. My parents fight often and, while not yet divorced, sleep in different rooms and have a failed marriage.
My father is over-weight and has anger-management problems. He is short-tempered, and while not violent (other than the time he threw a chair at my brother when my bro was about 10) he yells often and can be rather scary. His first wife (with whom he had my brother) died in a car accident, leaving him a single father until he met my mother 19 or so years ago. My father had/has very high expectations of both myself and my brother and can be very pressuring.
My brother went into a military academy for high school (under the pressure of our dad) and eventually got into the United States Naval Academy (also under the pressure of our dad) majoring as a Mechanical Engineer (once again under the pressure of our dad). A month before graduation, my brother began skipping classes to go drink and got kicked out. For a year he lived alone in an apartment an hour away from our house, paid for by the remainder of his mother’s insurance money. He began doing drugs, smoking, and drinking even more in this time. He was mugged in his apartment twice, his things stolen or trashed and he was hit over the head with his own acoustic guitar. My father made him move and start taking classes necessary to finish his degree which he eventually stopped going to. He is now working to become a pilot (which unsure as to if HE actually wants to do that).
My sister, as most average teens, began drinking at about 15 years old. She also moved in with her dad and his snobby step-wife (although she WAS kind to my sister). My sister began following Christ and changing her ways, becoming a model person, not drinking, and reconnecting with my mother and the rest of our family. She receny graduated as a religion major and has a job nearby us.
Now on to me. To begin with, I rather harshly believe I raised myself for the most part. My mother being an artist, not a cook, we necer had family meals and we don’t interact as regularly as most families. 
I am a 14 year old, bisexual, moderately intelligent but lazy, procrastinative, and most prominently, self-loathing.
9th grade was a hard year for me. My laziness, lack of focus, and procrastinative tendencies caused me to be failing at least three classes at a time for a majority of the year. I took 4 out of 5 honors classes, thinking I could handle the responsibility and pressure, but found I could not. In March I developed stress nausea and was sick for nearly the whole month, took several sick days, and occasionally faked the severity of the sickness to get out of things. I developed a pattern of not doing my work and lying to get out of it. 
I have never been in a serious relationship and have ver low self-esteem. I often put myself down for the smallest of things. I find myself unattractive and untalented. I am hyperactive and have an over-active imagination. I have little motivation and rarely follow through on things. I am of very little worth to society.
About 3 or 4 months ago, I gave up. I don’t really feel like I’m living anymore, just going through the necessary movements. I enertain myself with meaningless little things and am rather anti-social. I find very little value in my life. I often fantasize about various ways of killing myself and it makes me happy. I have no fear of death. When I get really depressed (usually at night), I try to think of how to go about killing myself, but never can think a convient and thorough enough way of doing so. I started cutting a few weeks ago, and enjoy the control it gives me. However clichéd it sounds, the pain feels good. Since I don’t care about myself, I don’t anything wrong with cutting myself. I’ve seen a therapist before, but only ended up leaving with a perscription for ADD medicine.
I don’t want to be a bother to anyone and do not wish for help. I don’t deserve people’s valuable time, money, and attention. I often lay awake at night due to my insomnia and cry. I’m pretty much done with life and am ready to die.
However, I do feel that for these3 to 4 months it’s been, I’ve been waiting for something life changing or special to happen and as it has yet to happen, I feel as though I may now be in a permanent state of waiting. I feel very much alone.
I know other people have worse lives and are less fortunate than I, but I’m not saying my life is difficult. I’m just fucked up and undeserving of what I’ve been given. I desire more than anything to die, but I know death’s too good for me. I’m a terrible, worthless person. I don’t deserve anything.