Why?

I have a normal life. A mother and family who loves me. And I am so utterly sad. My childhood was a mess of beating and abuse from my schoolteachers. My little brother and best friend died. I crave sympathy and the shock on people’s faces. I do nothing but sit around and feel sorry for myself. I am pathetic, I am a fool, a selfish, ungrateful, self centered loser who cannot commit to anything. I am 15 and I want to die already. My father is whining pile of sh*t that I hate. He is evil and I see him every day. I cut myself but even then I’m too much of a wimp to continue with it. I want to die but I’m afraid. I’m not worth anything. My mother keeps telling me I’m fat and I can’t handle that either. Everyone in my family is fat – it’s in my genes. I run 10 km a day and eat next to nothing for 5 years and I’m still fat. I feel listless and bored and tired all the time. I cry for no reason and avoid people. Why am I such a ugly little cockroach. I want to die. No one even cares. Not really. My mother doesn’t take me seriously. When I’m sad she shouts at me for being so self centered as to not see that she is fine so why shouldn’t I be. There’s nothing wrong with my life. I should let the past go. I should be strong and rise above the situation. I’m gutless. My friends walk over me. I can’t even die I’m too afraid. I know I should change my life but I just want to stay in bed and sleep. sleep is like death but it isn’t so final. I hate the finality of death. I want to die. I want to jerk myself out of this. I want to be happy. I want to overdose.