Alright, end of the year

and this one hasn't been much better. J.P. blames it on starting her period, but she's just been mean. I think she's mad at me.
Alright, like nearly everyone else, I've made some resolutions for the year.
1. To lose 28-38 pounds from my current weight (142 pounds)
2. Lie more (It'll keep me out of trouble)
3. Smile more (seeming happy covers up everything)
4. Cut less or hide it better.
That's all I could think of. Most of it is making people think I'm still a good person and to cover up all sores I've made with my friends.
Alright, I don't know if I've talked about this before, but I don't like it when people ask if I've lost weight. Even if the scale says I've lost it, I don't see the lost. Looking at my own waist, face, hands, wrists, hips, everything I wonder why people ask. I should notice the change, I've lost over ten pounds, but I don't. There are days where if I squint, my stomach looks flatter, but those seem few and far between.
This leads me to my next thought. My therapist (yeah, fourteen and I need a therapist. Pretty pitiful if you ask me) is going to talk to my mom about me seeing a psychiatrist about medication to stabilize my moods on the third. Just before we go back to school. The day before we go back. Honestly, the only thing that bothers me is that I'm starting to feel like a burden on my family.
But that doesn't really matter today. TODAY, I should be upset with myself. It doesn't matter how much weight I wanna lose, I shouldn't be eating TWO frickin cupcakes. I should not eat one.
I think I upset people without meaning to. It's because I pull deep into myself when I'm upset. This is something I've done ever since I was litte. Probably because most of the time it was just my mom raising four kids, and I was generally able to deal with myself and could keep quiet, so when I needed her she seemed busy with something or someone else. So, now when something's bothering me, I fall quiet even if I try to push through and act normal. So I'm pretty sure this makes people feel as though they've hurt me in some way and it really bothers me. I hate when people think there's something wrong because I feel like I'm supposed to be their little springy light of joy who keeps them happy by simply being happy.
Yet I'm mess. You guys know this more this better than the kids at my school do. My Christmas was spent hung over from sleeping pills and nearly passing out after staying up until two in the morning feeling worthless because I had a flashback of those words, those feelings, that sense of betrayal from finding out that not only was my best friend the one who had told him the things that he used to hurt me but she didn't believe that he had hurt me, that broken feeling because until I was born, I wasn't wanted. I spent Christmas feeling kinda worthless because the only way I could deal with those emotions was by cutting and drugging myself. New Year's Eve was spent many happy, but arguing with J.P., finding new cuts appearing, and trying to feel perfectly fine. You, those who bothered to read this, know that I'm more of a mess than the people who know me off the computer.
Ok, I should get off. J.P. has either left or is leaving soon.
Byes.