<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:42:32.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>life in Samantha motion.</title><subtitle type='html'>the unorganized ramblings of a lost girl</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7075017404458257887</id><published>2009-05-15T05:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T05:43:39.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Consider me destroyed.</title><content type='html'>So Marielle turned me onto to this new thing called &lt;b&gt;tumblr&lt;/b&gt;, and its pretty rad. It will probably be a whole lot better once I figure out how to use it better, its cool though it connects to twitter and we all know that I am a twitter whoree so thats def a plus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway the point is I won't be on here much anymore, mainly to check on other peoples posts. But never fear you can still see what I'm up too and how my soon to be life as a college kid is going at Sammyfresh.tumblr.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall miss you bloggers &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;ladaaaa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7075017404458257887?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7075017404458257887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7075017404458257887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7075017404458257887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7075017404458257887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/05/consider-me-destroyed.html' title='Consider me destroyed.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-3339689204392013316</id><published>2009-05-08T05:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T05:42:44.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another day. Another mistake.</title><content type='html'>Waiting by the phone for hours. &lt;br /&gt;No one to call. Not even the heads up. &lt;br /&gt;Excuses that you make are so fake. &lt;br /&gt;Never in my life have a boy like you. &lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I'll never have too. - &lt;b&gt;Do it deadly: Push Play&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in such a good mood today its great (: I honestly don't know why though. Today I am just happy and giggly its annoyingly cute. Well I think so anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't have anything to blog about... Just that I'm in a really good mood today oh and Brandys identity is being stolenn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha later lovess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-3339689204392013316?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/3339689204392013316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=3339689204392013316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3339689204392013316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3339689204392013316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/05/another-day-another-mistake.html' title='Another day. Another mistake.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-4475355648399968145</id><published>2009-05-07T05:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T05:41:52.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Run baby run, Don't ever look back.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;They'll tear us apart, if you give them the chance.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this morning isn't going to well. I Left my phone at home (which isn't exactly within walking distance) and because I was so pissed off about my mother not turning around to get my phone, I decided to leave my lunch in the car thinking I'd get back at her. Apparently I'm just dumb because now I am phoneless &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt; hungry. Rich is supposed to bring it to me after school if he doesn't get called into work, but with my luck he is getting called into work, so I'm not counting on it. On a lighter note I get to see Isa and Ava today. On a not so light note, I have to walk to their house - &lt;b&gt;in the rain&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Welcome to Samantha's life&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hope you enjoy the ride, it shall be a bumpy one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm torn. Like really torn I have a "boy" situation and I don't like it. Sure it'd be fantastic to have a boyfriend right about now, but I'm not settling for someone that I'm not interested in just because I know they'll be there - and who even knows how long they'll be there for anyway? But there's two guys that like me, and they're both &lt;u&gt;great&lt;/u&gt; in their own individual ways, but I don't have more than just a friendly connection with either of them. I'm not leading them on, so don't think that. They both know where they stand with me, one just refuses to believe and listen to it. I've rushed into one too many relationships after Corey and I've destroyed what probably could have been something great had I been in it for the &lt;i&gt;right&lt;/i&gt; reasons rather than just trying to make Corey jealous. SO I'm finally learning from my mistakes and just waiting things out. I'll know when I'm ready and I'll also know when the guy is right enough for me to put myself out there. With that knowledge though, I still have a fear of finding the "right" guy and having him hurt me 20 billion times more than Corey ever did. I guess I'm just going to have to find someone that's worth that risk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OhMyGod. The library is so loud today! Like even with my headphones on I can hear peoples obnoxious voices. I just want to scream shut up. But I can't. God these last 11 days really need to fly by. I don't know how much more I can take, I'm almost to my breaking point. You have no idea. &lt;b&gt;asdfghjkl&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go, I'll probably post a little 4th period. Maybe a song, or survey. Something like that... Hmmm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-4475355648399968145?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/4475355648399968145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=4475355648399968145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4475355648399968145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4475355648399968145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/05/run-baby-run-dont-ever-look-back.html' title='Run baby run, Don&apos;t ever look back.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-444687651325832077</id><published>2009-05-06T08:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T08:17:07.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dressed up in designer drugs</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Dedicated to the one I love. &lt;br /&gt;The one who really messed me up.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats up (: I haven't really had time to blog lately. Ok that's clearly bullshit because I'm just too lazy to get off my ass and sit at the computer. I'll tell you senioritis is at an all time high right now. we have 12 days left and legit &lt;u&gt;everyone&lt;/u&gt; is itching to be out. I know I am. Its so close to the end and everything is just draaaaaaaaagggggggggiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnggggggg. Emphasis on &lt;b&gt;dragging&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night I went on a downloading rampage and downloaded every song by FTSK (forever the sickest kids dumbasses) and some of the Kings of Leon songs. I'm obsessed. No lie. they're great. Both bands. They're both completely different sounds, but yet they're so similar. Its crazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm sort of stressed about this whole prom thing. Like I don't even really want to go but I do all at the same time. Ughh whatever I'll have fun even if my crazy ex boyfriend and his flavor of the week are going to be there. thats ok I'll look 20 times hotter than her anywayyssss hehehehe XD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh vindictive much? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Loveeeeee it&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go, Maybe I'll have enough energy to blog tomorrow? Probably not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-444687651325832077?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/444687651325832077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=444687651325832077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/444687651325832077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/444687651325832077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/05/dressed-up-in-designer-drugs.html' title='Dressed up in designer drugs'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-581331468612477109</id><published>2009-05-03T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T09:05:15.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Never gunna give you up ;; never gunna let you down.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Never gunna run around and desert you. &lt;br /&gt;Never gunna make you cry ;; never gunna say goodbye. &lt;br /&gt;Never gunna tell a lie and hurt you.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're probably only going to understand the meaning to that song if you're in the fine arts academy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to be a short little post, but I just want it to be known that I've found somewhere that I belong. I know in a past post I wrote about how I never felt like I belonged somewhere, like i never had a group of people that I could completely be myself around. No masking feelings, no facades, just real, raw me. Well I found it. I found my family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;current=seniors049.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/seniors049.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;"A very tight knit group full of very talented people."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my famiy. We've been through so much together in the past 3 years and even though we were distant during the beginigng of the year, we all found our way back to one another. We found our family. I love you all so much, and this summer is all about us. Second base game. Never have I ever. Sing alongs. Pictures. We're doing it all. I know I'm not going anywhere and I hope none of you are either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-581331468612477109?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/581331468612477109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=581331468612477109' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/581331468612477109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/581331468612477109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/05/never-gunna-give-you-up-never-gunna-let.html' title='Never gunna give you up ;; never gunna let you down.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7343989451084403219</id><published>2009-04-28T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T11:17:02.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A yo its stevey I play the guitar and make it look easy</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;I was seen strolling the road just the other day&lt;br /&gt;This girl came up to me with only this to say&lt;br /&gt;"push play is my favorite band, omg its nick he's my favorite man"&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously LOVE those boys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywhooo, I'm in the library watching Push Play videos when I'm supposed to be in gym. But seriously who was the genius that thought I was going to partake in a gym class? Idiots. Can we discuss the fact that its 90 outside right now? yes 90 fucking degrees in the middle of April. I wouldn't mind the 90 degree whether if I was on the beach right now tanning it up, but no instead I am stuck in school that just so happens to NOT know how to operate the air conditioner correctly. Again, idiots. On the plus side of all this I only have 24 days left. Do you know what else is in 24 days? Oh just this little thing called MY 18TH FUCKING BIRTHDAY! I personally am crazy happy that I am going to be 18, I hate when people are like "its no big deal, you can just buy cigarettes, scratch tickets, and porn. No big." No. Shut the fuck up. You're dumb. It is a big thing. TO ME. So suck it the fuck up and let me have my moment before I eat you alive with syrup. Ohhhh that was a good one! Remind me to use that again sometime. Hahaha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out who Corey is dating these days. I had a feeling that it was this person and needless to say I think its fucked. Not that I can really say much cause I did date Patrick and whatever, but (and not that this makes it ok at all. It doesn't) Corey and him weren't terribly close at the time. Corey didn't consider Patrick to be his best friend and neither did Patrick - Speaking of Patrick, that asshole is in Florida right now. Lucky bastard. - But whatever Corey makes his own choices and runs his own life and whoever he chooses to hurt in the process of running his life is none of my business or concern as long as it isn't me, which it won't be. &lt;b&gt;Ever&lt;/b&gt; again. The point of this little paragraph isn't to rant about his new girl though, its to say that I had a sort of uhm... Revelation maybe? I don't know if I'm using the correct word, but anyway when my assumption was proved to be true yesterday I was angry for like 5 minutes - not even. And then I was like "oh well". Like I didn't care. There was not one single part of me that &lt;i&gt;did&lt;/i&gt; care. So it wasn't like I was telling myself that I shouldn't care or that I couldn't care. I just didn't. I went about my day and barely thought about it. I like feeling this way, I think its this whole turning of the new leaf thing. Like Katelyn said I'm forgetting the past two years. That person I was then, she wasn't me. She was everything I hate, and something I told myself I never wanted to be. But I can't change what my alter ego did in the past, so I just need to forget and move on. I have new morals and new goals. I have a future and I need to see all my life plans through. I will become something, and in a way I have to thank my little alter ego. She was a great teacher in showing me the right things and wrong things. She helped me grow up and mature more than I ever thought was possible for any high school senior. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is me and I think I like me now. Sure I still have my issues, but I can deal with those little by little. Change doesn't happen over night. I'm proof of that, its taken 2 years to shuffle through my problems and insecurities. I still I have my scars, both emotional and physical, and with time they'll fade away (the emotional ones at least) I'm not worried about that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the words of Miss. Demi Lovato: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"this is real. This is me. &lt;br /&gt;I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7343989451084403219?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7343989451084403219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7343989451084403219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7343989451084403219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7343989451084403219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/04/yo-its-stevey-i-play-guitar-and-make-it.html' title='A yo its stevey I play the guitar and make it look easy'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8805296301745092485</id><published>2009-04-27T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T08:14:42.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>told you im the one, hope you had your fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;im done and i want out of this&lt;br /&gt;Heart attack Heart attack&lt;br /&gt;i'm never gonna take you back take you back&lt;br /&gt;im never gonna break&lt;br /&gt;i'll show you&lt;br /&gt;i wont call you&lt;br /&gt;Heart Attack Heart attack&lt;br /&gt;im never gonna live with that live with that&lt;br /&gt;my nightmare just came true&lt;br /&gt;and now heart attacks on you&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how I &lt;u&gt;love&lt;/u&gt; Push Play. I actually saw them on saturday night and it was fantastic (: Nick DeTuriss took a picture with us and sang to me for my birthday. But it wasn't my birthday. hahahaha &amp;hearts; I went with my two best friends and it was epic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So me and Katelyn started making a list. What kind of a list you may ask? I guess you could call it a "boyfriend requirement" list? So far all we've got is: Musically inclined and somewhat of a virgin. That's kind of impossible, the whole somewhat of a virgin thing I know, but They're out there I know. Someday I'll find my "prince charming." I hope anyway... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go not really into this blogging thing right now. Later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8805296301745092485?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8805296301745092485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8805296301745092485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8805296301745092485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8805296301745092485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/04/told-you-im-one-hope-you-had-your-fun.html' title='told you im the one, hope you had your fun'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7524493801177690430</id><published>2009-04-15T05:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T08:06:22.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going crazy cause you can't find whatcya need.</title><content type='html'>Come on baby let me get ya get ya up to speed. &lt;br /&gt;Time to party like its midnight new years eve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Oh oh, nobody has to know&lt;/b&gt; ; ) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how I lovee listening to Honor Society this early in the morning (: &lt;i&gt;They're my lifee line.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Don't judge me Ho&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to see all my favorite boys on July 17th - Hahaha Katelyn I got the date right bitchhhh! - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is turning into a surprisingly good day, except I have a film review do, that I didn't do. In my defense I didn't finish the movie, but I have two more free periods to completely bullshit it (: &lt;i&gt;story of my life&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went and watched DWTS with Butterflyflyaway &amp; Gail (: it was fun. I then trouped it back to the Swampy, I was experiencing problems while driving though, I was getting really dizzy. Like I was drunk, but clearly I was not. So I like crawled my way upstairs and passed out in my room. Apparently it was funny to my mother &amp; Rich that I left every single light in the house on including my bedroom light. Give me a break, I was in a completely empty house, in a strange city, with no sharp/heavy objects to defend myself with. So in a feble attempt to feel safe, I left the lights on. Because everyone knows nothing bad happens when the lights are on (: - insert sexual reference here - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Wednesday, which means that I have dancing today. Wahoo. I know, I know, calm down Samantha you might hurt yourself you old broad. I'm so dumb XD haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have to video tape my exhibition dance and I'm smoothly avoiding it. Sadly though it has to be video taped and soon because exhibition is like 3 or 4 days after vacation. Fabulous. But I'm so nervous to dance in front of my class. Some of them are so immaturely judgmental and I really don't feel like listening to their shit. Whatever, I'm just gunna have to swallow my insecurities and deal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Life's about the climb. &lt;br /&gt;It ain't always easy, &lt;br /&gt;but the views great."&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladaaaa &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7524493801177690430?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7524493801177690430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7524493801177690430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7524493801177690430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7524493801177690430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/04/going-crazy-cause-you-cant-find-whatcya.html' title='Going crazy cause you can&apos;t find whatcya need.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-715555778196710748</id><published>2009-04-14T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T09:15:33.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She's a backseat driver. A drama provider.</title><content type='html'>An instant update on the world. &lt;br /&gt;She'd a first class liar. A constant forgetter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;She's attractive but bitter.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;She's a lady &amp;&amp; ladies shouldn't be messed with.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Tuesday all (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I skipped out on Monday cause I wasn't quite ready to preform my exhibition, turns out I wasted an absence for no reason because Miss. Mullet wasn't even here. Ugh that's my life though. Luckily I have have 28 days left of high school and I couldn't be happier (: Next week is vacation, I think I'm going to Sebago a few days with my &lt;u&gt;Bestfriends&lt;/u&gt;, OH! and we're going to see push play the 23rd where I will nicely ask them to play my graduation party, which I don't think will happen since they're moving to Hollywood on may 17th :( I want to move to California, I have some new dreams in mind for after college, or maybe before college. More on that later though... After April vacation I then have three full weeks left of school, senior luau, senior skip day &lt;b&gt;maybe&lt;/b&gt;, then its MCAS week again where I only have a full day Monday, late entry Tuesday-Thursday, and early dismissal on the 22nd  (MY BIRTHDAY!) for prom and the last day of classes (: and since I have no finals I won't have to return to this disgusting prison of learning till June 3rd where I will then say goodbye FOREVER. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So onto my California dreamin' I seriously have been thinking about singing. I know I'm not horrible at it, and with some work I think i could be considered good. I'm looking for a band that'll start me as maybe singing one or two songs, then who knows maybe I'll end up being lead. That'd be so sick to be the singer in a little punk rock band. SO sick! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I''m offically living in Swampscott now. I actually don't mind it, its just the driving that kills me. &lt;s&gt;All my friends&lt;/s&gt; - what I am saying? All? Try two there kiddo. - still live down here, I sadly still go to school down here, and I even more sadly still dance down here. So its a lot of driving back and forth, but its not too bad. The only thing that's kind of killing me is that my dad doesn't know where I'm living. As far as he's concerned I'm still sharing a bed in Caitlyns basement. Which was fine with me when I hated him, but now I actually feel bad. I don't hate my dad, I love him, he's my dad. But living with him is just not tolerable. I still see him, even if its only for a few hours I know it would make him happy even if he just saw me for 3 seconds. I'm his world, I know that sounds vain, but I really am all that he has and I'm starting realize that. So do I tell him the truth, or let him find out on his own? I know the truth will crush him, so that's why I'm hiding it. But lying to him is so much worse.... God I really don't know what to do... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go, I'll update tonight cause I get incredible wireless service at Rich's (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha laterr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-715555778196710748?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/715555778196710748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=715555778196710748' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/715555778196710748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/715555778196710748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/04/shes-backseat-driver-drama-provider.html' title='She&apos;s a backseat driver. A drama provider.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-9000325914872814806</id><published>2009-04-09T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T08:19:32.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't pretend you're sorry.</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;I know you're not.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;You know you got the power to make me weak inside. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;&amp; you know you leave me breathless, but its ok. &lt;br /&gt;Cause you are my survival.&lt;/b&gt; ---- * &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going through a lot right now, but not all of it is bad. I've come to terms with the fact that my family isn't getting back together and that my mom is finally happy. And I'm happy that she's happy. &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;"If you're ok; I'm ok."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;Survey Break:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Take this survey&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever thought about getting your lip pierced?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Does a kiss make you feel better?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Depends who its from.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever passed out on the bathroom floor?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you start the water before you get in the shower or when you get in?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Before I get in.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What did you do today?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I'm currently at school.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever brushed your teeth while in the shower?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you had more than 3 boyfriends/girlfriends at the same time?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever thought about your death?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ever been in love?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Would you rather be in a permanent relationship or play the field?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Permanent. I'm sick of "playing the feild"&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is your favorite sport?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Baseball.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What color is your shower curtain?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Clearish?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever had stitches?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Did you believe that boys/girls had cooties?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you know how to use chop sticks?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Kinda.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Lyrics stuck in your head?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like the Red Sox or Yankeess?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;RED SOX.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What are you doing tomorrow?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Tattoo drawing &amp; HANNAH MONTANA MOVIE!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Who was the last person you couldn't take your eyes off of?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;asdfghjk;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever given money to a homeless person?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever run over an animal?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;One that was already dead.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is your favorite cereal?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I don't eat cereal.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever had an Oreo with peanut butter?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What are you doing right at this moment?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;This survey OBV&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you think its right for straight guys to get their tongue pierced?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Where's your favorite place to be?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I don't know.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What's your favorite song?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Too many.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Coffee.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever thrown shoes on a telephone wire?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever been skinny dipping?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever been arrested?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Almost (:&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you dream in black and white?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No? I am not a dog.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you talk in your sleep?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Only when something is bothering me or I'm nervous about something.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you snore?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you a redneck?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;HAHAHA!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Funniest thing you heard all day?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;"Who dressed you? Your mom? My mom? Oh... Its my brother."&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever gotten a mosquito bite on your face?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What are you afraid of?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Feeling like I don't belong and that I'm unwanted like this forever....&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Take this survey&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What type of day are you having?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Balhhh.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Was there anyone who "made your day"?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Not yet.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you liking how you look today?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Uhmm Sortaa.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you have anyone crushing on you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yea.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever eaten a bug?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Ew.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you vegeterian?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;When was the last time you kissed someone?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Last night.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever had something stuck between your teeth, but no one decided to tell you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No, everyone always tells me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you a mother or a father?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Neither.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;When was your last paycheck?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I don't get those.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How many pets do you have?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;None.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What kind of toothpaste do you use?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Crest.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you closer to being rich or poor?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I'm in the middle.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Nope. Just my Hannah blanket.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What was the last gift someone gave you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Uhm mommy bought me Twilight.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you appreciate that person?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you on any type of drugs?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Nope.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you in love?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Nope.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever been in love?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you even believe in love?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I did, asshole shattered that thought though.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How many things are you really thinking about right now?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Close to a million.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Did you talk to anyone you didn't like today?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like picnics?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you finished school yet?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Nope. JUNE 3 BABY!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is/was your worst subject?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Math.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What's your father's middle name?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I can't spell it. Its wicked spanish.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you American?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;sure?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Who are you voting for?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;If I was old enough to vote at the time, it would have been OBAMSKII all the way.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like Bush?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Was his name even worth capitalizing?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Nope.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What kind of mood are you in?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;BLAHHH.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you waiting for anything?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;School to end.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you going to bed after this?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever watched fahrenheit 9/11?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;McCain or Obama?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;OBAMSKii F. BABYY`&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Where were you september 11. 2001?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;5th grade.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What book are you currently reading?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Miles to go &lt;3 soo good!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What song did you last listen to?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;When you look me in the eyes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What movie is in your DVD player?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Laugnaa&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How many windows are open in your computer?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;3&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you a very stressed out person?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How old is your mom?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;44&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Has your mom ever been on television or in the paper?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Maybe?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you single?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you have a beach house?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;A barbie beach house.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Where do you live?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Swampscott/Everett&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Did you honestly miss Melrose place?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you ever watch Bold and the beautiful?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you sometimes watch the news?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever seen a UFO?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you believe in aliens?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like Jerry Springer?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;YES!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever been to world trade center?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is your favorite magazine?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Seventeen.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How many times have you gone to a foreign country?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;None.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;When will you next go on a plane?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Idk.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;When did you last go on a plane?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Disney.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you watch football sundays?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you read Perez Hilton?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;YES! Love that man &lt;3&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What are your thoughts on Disney Channel?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;LOVEEEE IT!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you taken all the cool quizzes on QuizPox.com ?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;No.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like Techno?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Maybe?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like Dr.Phil?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;YES!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like Oprah?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;YES!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you ever want to get married?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Only to Nick Jayy or Taylor Lautner.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is your favorite country?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;England &amp; Australia.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like animals?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like High school musical?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;LOVE IT!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are the Jonas brothers cute?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;YES!!!! I'm marrying Nick Jayy.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you have an ipod?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you watch TV alot?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Not really.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you afraid of the dark?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Petrified.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;Survey Break OVER&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm in a blahhh mood today, I don't know why though. My self esteem is really low lately and I'm having "those thoughts" again. Not good. Good thing I'm going to see Robin today though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the bell rang I must go, &lt;br /&gt;ladaaaaaaaaa &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-9000325914872814806?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/9000325914872814806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=9000325914872814806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/9000325914872814806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/9000325914872814806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/04/dont-pretend-youre-sorry.html' title='Don&apos;t pretend you&apos;re sorry.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6185716759808335995</id><published>2009-04-08T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T09:36:55.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When you walked through the door, it was clear to me</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;You're the one they adore, who they came to see.&lt;br /&gt;You're a... rockstar, everybody wants you.&lt;br /&gt;Who can really blame you? We're the ones who made you.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha so I'm in the library looking up patterns for Livas new obsession. &lt;u&gt;Amigurumi&lt;/u&gt;. They're little knitted dolls that are absolutely to die for and I'm in love with them. She's making me a Plankton one from SpondgeBob for my birthday (: ! I'm so so excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually in a good-ish mood today. aside from the fact that I'm still feeling nauseous. I'm starting to get worried about that, I haven't gotten my period yet but I know its not cause I'm prego because I haven't been sexually active since like January, its probably due to all the stress I'm under. But I'm scared that there's something seriously wrong with my stomach... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gunna go.. more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6185716759808335995?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6185716759808335995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6185716759808335995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6185716759808335995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6185716759808335995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-you-walked-through-door-it-was.html' title='When you walked through the door, it was clear to me'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-9154942403701582100</id><published>2009-04-03T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T08:09:38.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I mean what can I say,</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Three babies in the backseat singin' to you,&lt;br /&gt;Hey DJ, won't you play that song for me,&lt;br /&gt;And turn it up on your radio,&lt;br /&gt;I got 200 seconds and I'm ready to go,&lt;/b&gt; -- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That song is amazing. I feel hella gangsta when that's bumping in my car and I've got the windows down and my stunnas on. Yup that is in fact how I role. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went to another one of my awkward dinners with my father. This whole charade is really getting old, clearly we both no longer know how to hold up a conversation with one another. Yea it sucks, but like I'm not stressing it. I have way to much shit on my plate right now to worry about whether or not daddy and I aren't awkward around one another. He's the adult, he should be working to fix this since he's the one that destroyed it in the first place. Whatever, I don't care. In his little psychotically fucked up mind, he thinks that I'm against him and I'm taking my mothers side and blah blah blah bullshit. Anywayyy, after my excruciatingly unnecessary dinner with &lt;b&gt;Daddy the Insane&lt;/b&gt; I went to Livi's house for a Bon Fiyaaaa. It was great, me, Lee, Chris, Tony, Ryan, Liv, &amp; Danny sat around the fire, made s'mores and jammed to Chris and Danny's guitar playing. I had an amazing time, those previously listed people are amazing and I'm so happy that their a part of my life and whats even better is I actually feel wanted within that group. Like I've gone through a million and one groups of friends, but never quite felt like I belonged. But this time its different. In a way (and don't take this offensively guys! I love you!) we're all kind of like misfits. We don't exactly fit in with the "normal" crowd, but we're perfect for each other &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Lets talk about boys&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;For once I want nothing to do with them. Ex Boy seems to not comprehend that though. Like I like him, I do, but I don't want a boyfriend I like being single and not having to make time for anyone that isn't myself. Ya know? There's just too much going on for me to even try to relearn how to be a girlfriend again. Lets face it, since Corey, I've only had 2 boyfriends and they were both epic fails. And maybe its not all my fault, but to me it is. I rushed into relationships way to quickly when I was still not fully over Corey. Now I'm over him, and I just don't feel like settling down. Plus I'm sick of Everett boys. Next year I'll be in college with a whole new class of people and who knows what I might find. So for now I'm just learning to love me and sorry that there just isn't any room for me to love anyone else XD ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go, maybe I'll post this weekend. &lt;br /&gt;Probably not though, so wait till monday k? (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Later hater&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-9154942403701582100?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/9154942403701582100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=9154942403701582100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/9154942403701582100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/9154942403701582100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-mean-what-can-i-say.html' title='I mean what can I say,'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7762116008493236065</id><published>2009-03-27T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T08:14:48.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Avoidance is key</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;in situations like this&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing that a lot lately. That has to be my biggest flaw. I'm in period one of my double study period and I have like two sentences typed of my stupid artist statement for photography. What that is when I have to write 2-3 paragraphs on why I take photographs. Uhm cause they're fucking pretty? I don't know.  Its a rhetorical question that I refuse to answer it. Like I have a choice? Its my final for photography and I have to do it. Damnit. I wish school work came as easily to me as blogging. Like i have to write an article for journalism to actually pass the damn class, but I just have no interest in it. I guess its just a matter of whether or not I have an extreme interest in it, whatever it may be. Ugh this school thing is just working for me. May is so close yet so far away and I literally am counting down the days till I can put my middle finger up to this school and every insignificant person in it that made me completely hate my existence at one point throughout my ridiculous four years here. God damn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7762116008493236065?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7762116008493236065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7762116008493236065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7762116008493236065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7762116008493236065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/avoidance-is-key.html' title='Avoidance is key'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6789428257136462332</id><published>2009-03-27T05:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T05:41:20.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't tell me if I'm dyin, cause I don't wanna know.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go.&lt;br /&gt;Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon.&lt;br /&gt;Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon&lt;/b&gt; -- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its only 830 and already I am aggravated. It started at 6AM (yes, I said 6AM) when my alarm went off and I had the inability to shut it off because my sidekick is retarded and freezes always. After I shut it off I rolled back over so that I could sleep until 620 like &lt;u&gt;always&lt;/u&gt; but my phone rang. Like an actual phone call. At 6AM. It was Alex, so I didn't really mind, but wtf is he doing calling me at 6AM! So that clearly made me cranky cause I have OCD in the morning and if I don't wake up and start my day a certain way I'm a cranky bitch for hours instead of just the usual bitch. So it was a waste to try and go back to sleep so I got up and started getting ready, I got new clothes last night and I look comfortably cute today (: Me likeyyyy. I had to straighten my hair this morning but Bestfriend hogged it cause she has a bad case of the nigga naps and I have an exceptionally good straightener. We laughed &lt;s&gt;a little&lt;/s&gt; a lot, and then she went to college for the first time all week and I went to high school. &lt;s&gt;Wooo&lt;/s&gt;. No no, I miss her. Come back Caitlyn? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am in the library like always and just want to be back in bed. The plus side of all this is that today is Friday, I get to go in late three days next week, and (this is the best part) I no longer have to drive my shit box of a Honda. Yes that is right, you are now reading the blog of a 2009 Ford Fusion owner. Complete with 6 disc CD player, iPOD hook up, and sync technology, meaning the mother fucker TALKS TO ME! Me Caitlyn and Katelyn are rather excited about our new toy and are probably going to spend most of the weekend in the car trying to figure everything out hahaha (:  &amp;&amp; No bitches I am not bragging, I am simply just excited, &lt;b&gt;so suck it the fuck up and listen to me rant for a while,&lt;/b&gt; K? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm alright I'm gunna go I have to rewrite my persuasive essay on Sexting and then start my artist statement for the senior art show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ladaa &lt;u&gt;Haters&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6789428257136462332?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6789428257136462332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6789428257136462332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6789428257136462332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6789428257136462332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/dont-tell-me-if-im-dyin-cause-i-dont_27.html' title='Don&apos;t tell me if I&apos;m dyin, cause I don&apos;t wanna know.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-1512135475519674214</id><published>2009-03-26T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T08:47:13.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I just want to break you down so badly</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;well I trip over everything you say. &lt;br /&gt;I just want to break you down so badly,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;in the worst way&lt;/i&gt; --- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm avoiding my college write paper right now. Who wants to write a persuasive essay on Sexting? Like I know way to much about this topic, and it bothers me. I don't know why though? Maybe because I've been know to "sext" once or twice back in the old days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Eww. I'm a creep.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I had a really good conversation with Livi first period today. We talked a lot about body image, and it made me feel really good to not have someone say "you're not fat" when I said I hated my body. She actually listened and understood that while I'm not morbidly obese, I am waging this horrible war against my body and my hatred for it and all I want to do is be able to look in the mirror and &lt;i&gt;actually&lt;/i&gt; &lt;u&gt;like what I see&lt;/u&gt;. We also realized that college is a reinventing point. Now that we've spent four years of our life struggling and struggling to figure out who we are and we have somewhat of an idea of who we are and learned all the lessons we could in high school, college is the perfect place to apply that knowledge. My goal? &lt;b&gt;Take all the time and energy I wasted on boys throughout high school and apply it to my school work.&lt;/b&gt; I want to be the hot mysteriously studious girl that boys wish they could acquire in their lives. &lt;b&gt;Again&lt;/b&gt;. I'm a CREEP. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Livi wants to be a Vally girl. This realization makes me want to go out and buy her Malibu Barbie complete with beach house and shiny red convertible. (Oh &amp; Malibu Ken too!)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywaysss, I've come to realize that I've lost the need for certain people in my life. Its like I've always known that they made me upset and I never really wanted to tolerate them but just sucked it up because I felt as though they were the only people that were going to stick by me. But really, who needs friends that bring you down and criticize everything that you do? I mean these people, one person completely in particular, make me feel horrible about my self. Its not right. I don't do that to them, so why do it to me? But anyway I'm happy with the people in my life right now, those that aren't "them". Sure I don't have like a million and one friends, but I'd rather have a handful of people that I enjoy being around that a ginourmas amount of those that I'd be more than likely compelled to toss off a cliff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh I should probably get going. I need to finish this paper and then maybe do my research paper since I realized I've done it completely wrong..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Later haters.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-1512135475519674214?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/1512135475519674214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=1512135475519674214' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1512135475519674214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1512135475519674214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-just-want-to-break-you-down-so-badly.html' title='I just want to break you down so badly'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-2131946795300407979</id><published>2009-03-25T05:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T05:50:16.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;No song I could sing but I can try for your heart&lt;/b&gt;--- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MMMM Jack Johnson. &lt;br /&gt;so I have quite the list of problems today, lets observe shall we? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;- I haven't finished my paper. &lt;br /&gt;- I hate everything about my body. &lt;br /&gt;- I'm no longer living in my "house". &lt;br /&gt;- Kevin is coming down today &amp; I look like shit. &lt;br /&gt;- I have dancing today. I hate dancing. &lt;br /&gt;- I hate my father and everything he puts me through.  &lt;br /&gt;- Livi is petting me? &lt;u&gt;BUT&lt;/u&gt; she's supportive (&lt;i&gt;she told me to write that&lt;/i&gt;)&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See. Told ya. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure they all seem like tiny insignificant problems to someone else, but to me they're big problems. Like the body issue, I hate that I can't wear jeans, not that I even like jeans but that's not the point. What if I wanted too? Nope I can't because my ass is fat. I really came to this conclusion this morning as I was trying my hardest to zip the back of my favorite little pink plaid skirt and it wouldn't budge over my love handles. I need a gym, I need to run, I need to stick to this diet. I don't even know what kind of diet I'm on but it better work. Since yesterday I've been eating breakfast, having white rice and some sort of poultry for lunch and then something small for dinner. No junk food. No fast food. Just water &amp; the occasional iced coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok enough rambling on about my obnoxious weight.&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm gunna stop this post and start another one because i need to get something off my chest. &lt;br /&gt;THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-2131946795300407979?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/2131946795300407979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=2131946795300407979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2131946795300407979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2131946795300407979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/theres-no-combination-of-words-i-could.html' title='There&apos;s no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6288065925469572643</id><published>2009-03-20T07:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T08:15:44.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You wanna know more more more about me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Gotta know reverse psychology.&lt;br /&gt;I'm the reason why you can't get to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I'm the girl you never get just quite what you see&lt;/b&gt; ---- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been a few days, but this week has been somewhat crazily hectic and emotional. Joeys funeral was yesterday. I didn't go, I couldn't handle that, but the entire senior and junior class stood outside and watched as 156 cars drove by on their way to the cemetery. I was doing really good, Katelyn was a mess so I had her tucked under my arm trying to comfort her, but then Pat drove by - Joeys bestfriend - and he was in hysterics, I don't know if you know but I've known all these boys for years and never once have I seen any of them cry... and seeing that for the first time completely shattered me. I was also pissed because people were being ignorant and rude. I don't give a shit if you didn't even know this boy existed, you shut the fuck up for 5 minutes of your life and show some fucking respect. &lt;b&gt;Bitch&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get my period. Like now. I know no one wants that and its gross, but I've been so over emotional and irritable and tired, not to mention I've been over eating like crazy and I just want it to stop. I hate getting like this, but my mother refuses to put me on any sort of medication. Which I guess can be considered a good thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;Today is the first day of spring!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Know what that means?&lt;/b&gt; That means that graduation is just around the corner! And that means that I am almost out of this prison for good! Well only if I finish &lt;u&gt;and&lt;/u&gt; pass my research paper that is... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring also means that dancing's almost over! I'm usually never excited about that, but this is my last year there and honestly I couldn't be happier. I still love dancing and maybe in college I'll join the dance team, but I think I've just out grown the studio and those in it. It helps to know that I'm not the only one leaving though (: I think I might go to DTT (Dance teachers training dumbasses) and get certified so that I can still teach somewhere, because I really love working with the kids and I have some really good ideas for dances that I bumming I won't be able to use next year. Not that its even guaranteed that I'd be a teacher next year if i stayed but still. Oh and if you think this is "bad mouthing" the studio its not. Its simply my opinion on how  I feel about dancing, &lt;b&gt;not the studio&lt;/b&gt;, &lt;i&gt;dancing itself&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I can just hear them now..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh so I got in contact with an old friend! I'm so excited! His name is Kevin and we were in 5th and 6th grade together and I haven't seen or talked to him in years and the other day he messaged me on facebook (Oh the wonders of the good ol' FB XD!) and I was like WAAAA! KEVIN I LOVEEEE YOU! hahah Just kidding, that was super creepy, ew I need to go away now.... hahaha (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was sitting in the library all alone (just how I like it sometimes) and I had like a vision of me 5 months from now doing the same thing, only this time I was in college reading something better than Oedipus the king, although for some reason I'm subconsciously enjoying it and actually doing the required work for it? Crazy right? Yea I know. But it got me really excited knowing that I'm going to be a college kid soon soon soon! Like I actually did it, well kinda. I still have to graduate. Which I will once this research paper is done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well I must go, I'll probably update tomorrow cause I'm babysitting all night and once the kids go to sleep I'm supposed to do my paper, but I will undoubtedly be avoiding it (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later hater!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6288065925469572643?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6288065925469572643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6288065925469572643' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6288065925469572643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6288065925469572643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-wanna-know-more-more-more-about-me.html' title='You wanna know more more more about me?'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-1211302784567337502</id><published>2009-03-18T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T09:40:14.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You say, I only hear what I want to</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;And I thought what I felt was simple.&lt;br /&gt;And I thought that I don't belong,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;&amp; now that I am leaving,&lt;br /&gt;I know that I did something wrong cause I missed you.&lt;/b&gt; --- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is not a good day. Today is Joeys wake and I'm nervous as hell. For one thing I've never been to one of these before and I'm scared to see him and another thing the people I love most are going to be utterly devastated and broken. Like I said before when I see them this way all I want to do is hug them and take all their pain away like a little sponge. Yea, like a sponge. That would be nice. So dancing is probably going to have a problem with this, because I have been absent a lot, but I'm not planning on being absent. I'm going to try to get to class as soon as possible. But this isn't going to be a short thing so I don't even know if I'll be able to make it back. &lt;i&gt;Whatever&lt;/i&gt; I didn't plan on this happening, so people can &lt;b&gt;deal&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of people dealing, my boyfriend needs to learn to do that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Yes&lt;/b&gt; I said boyfriend. I don't really want to talk about that whole title thing but anyway... we got into a fight the other night because I don't drink anymore and he is like a full functioning alcoholic. So he proceeded to push the drinking on me and I flipped. Like I stopped that shit for a reason, reasons I don't want to discuss and reasons that no one really needs to know other than myself. So he told me that it sucks because he doesn't want to go to parties with out me. That's sweet but I can go to parties even if I don't drink, I'm not a boring little prude. I know how to have fun, I just like being sober while I'm doing it. And for the people that know me they know that I'm a crazy bitch without drugs or alcohol and I like it that way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know how I'm feeling about this whole boyfriend thing. I mean I like the boy a lot, but I think I like my freedom more. I mean I;m so used to just "talking" to someone that I've completely forgotten what its like to be in an actual relationship. Its awkward and annoying. Like I said, I don't really know how I'm feeling about this...... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well my research paper is due tomorrow and hahaa I haven't even started it (: &lt;br /&gt;Wooo good student award goes to &lt;b&gt;ME&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahaha &amp;hearts; well I'm gunna go. &lt;br /&gt;I'll update tomorrow, promise! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Later hater.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-1211302784567337502?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/1211302784567337502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=1211302784567337502' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1211302784567337502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1211302784567337502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-say-i-only-hear-what-i-want-to.html' title='You say, I only hear what I want to'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-928873065030679664</id><published>2009-03-16T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T08:13:04.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>emotional.</title><content type='html'>Today I am just filled with an unkempt amount of emotions. I've been feeling it since Saturday, the ones I love more than anything are hurting so bad right now and all I want to do is click my heels and make all their pain go away. Even though I wasn't close to this boy, they were and they're my best friends. They are a part of me, when they're hurting I'm hurting. and right now they're hurting horribly. I saw Cataldo last night and was surprised that I kept it together as well as I did. I've never seen him this way. His skin was pail white, his normally bright blue eyes were dull and he couldn't focus on anything. God I'm crying just thinking about it. So this wasn't a direct hit on me, but in a sense it is. He was 18, a year older than me, just graduated and a close friend of &lt;b&gt;my&lt;/b&gt; best friends. So in a way, this is close to home for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Whew&lt;/i&gt;. This is an emotional post, but I needed to let it out. &lt;br /&gt;I may post later, I'm not really sure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Rest in peace Joey - You'll forever be in our hearts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Watch over my friends please, they need you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-928873065030679664?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/928873065030679664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=928873065030679664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/928873065030679664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/928873065030679664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/emotional.html' title='emotional.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-598330307542073987</id><published>2009-03-12T07:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T07:55:59.472-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No matter how I try, try to kill the time.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;I think that I'm just going crazy, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;one day at a time&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; --- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I found out that my research paper is due a week from today and I just finished my note cards &lt;i&gt;yesterday&lt;/i&gt;. So much for things looking up in the life of Samantha. My body is in so so much pain right now. Rachel wasn't in class yesterday so we had Jen for a teacher and I swear she wanted to kill me. I can't move my shoulder and my back and neck are in excruciating pain. I need a massage, oh and a nap too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm craving a blueberry banana smoothie right now, like you have NO idea. Actually I'm craving food in general. Wooo yay for fatass! I need to go to the gym, like for real My prom dress is not for a fatty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is kind of a pointless post and I don't feel like typing anymore. &lt;br /&gt;hahaha Later hater.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-598330307542073987?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/598330307542073987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=598330307542073987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/598330307542073987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/598330307542073987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-matter-how-i-try-try-to-kill-time.html' title='No matter how I try, try to kill the time.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8841122475168172776</id><published>2009-03-11T05:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T05:46:28.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Painting all my dreams with the color of your smile.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;You're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing.&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you, I gotta find you. &lt;br /&gt;You're the missing piece I need, the song inside of me. &lt;br /&gt;I need to find you, I gotta find you.&lt;/b&gt;---&amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good morning! I'm in an incredibly good mood this morning. Why? Oh because I got into mother fucking COLLEGE! That's right, Samantha Leigh is going to college bitches! Oh man there is a &lt;b&gt;huge&lt;/b&gt; weight lifted off of my shoulders right now, you have no idea. Now all I need to do is do this damn research paper and graduate and I'll be all set! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well now that happy moments over, I'm going to vent (: &lt;br /&gt;Recently I've re developed my over obsessive love for my &lt;b&gt;JoBros&lt;/b&gt; (That's another way of saying Jonas Brothers for all you dumbasses out there) and its really pissing me off that someone always has something to say about it. At first I wasn't getting a lot of shit for it, not like my friends were, but when I tell people I've seen the movie 5 times or that my first tattoo is from a Jonas song, it pisses me off that someone always calls me dumb or retarded or says that I "need to grow up". Like no &lt;b&gt;shut the fuck up&lt;/b&gt;. I'm not dumb nor retarded for liking them and trust me I am way more grown up than anyone knows and if you're going to base a judgment on me just by what band I listen too, then clearly you're the dumb &amp; retarded one. Sure their not the only band I listen too, but they're the one band that I actually &lt;i&gt;love&lt;/i&gt;. I've been a devoted fan since 2006, that's BEFORE they were even famous. I don't sit there and pick you apart because you like Lil Wayne or T Payne and all that gangster rap shit or because you listen to screamo music. That's just dumb and childish. And back to me "growing up" that's the thing that pisses me off most. The shit I've gone through these past two years has made me grow up faster than anyone I know and honestly without those boys and their music, I'd probably be a whole lot worse than I am now. Bottom line? The next time you feel the need to say something negative about me and the Jonas Brothers, &lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;DON'T&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew. That felt fantastic! I needed to get that off my chest, sorry (: &lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go. I have to work on my research paper for real so I can keep up a 2.8 GPA for &lt;b&gt;COLLEGE&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;Later hater &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8841122475168172776?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8841122475168172776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8841122475168172776' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8841122475168172776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8841122475168172776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/painting-all-my-dreams-with-color-of.html' title='Painting all my dreams with the color of your smile.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-239001332355053170</id><published>2009-03-10T05:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T05:38:08.548-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You got moves, I got shoes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Lets go dancing&lt;/b&gt; --- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea so I'm not really in the blogging mood right now, but I wanna blog all at the same time? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my body is so itchy. Fucking tanning man. I got &lt;u&gt;so&lt;/u&gt; burnt from going on Saturday and was in some intense pain. I looked like I was half lobster actually I still kinda do. My body is super sensitive to everything, like my bra is even hurting me. I might take it off today cause I have a big sweatshirt on and no one will noticeee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so I'm over this blogging thing right now. &lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll post later today, after I finish my college writing paper of course. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Later Hater&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-239001332355053170?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/239001332355053170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=239001332355053170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/239001332355053170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/239001332355053170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-got-moves-i-got-shoes.html' title='You got moves, I got shoes.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-1179072869944150986</id><published>2009-03-06T07:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T07:55:31.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey baby, why are you messing with me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Did it mean anything?&lt;br /&gt;Does the girl with the ring know you &lt;br /&gt;bounce, bounce, bounce around?&lt;/b&gt; --- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized I copy that "---&amp;hearts;" thing from Marielle. Oh well the bitch can deal with it ;) hehehe. So I'm doing a little better today, I've realized that I was acting extremely childish yesterday and - as much as it kills me to say this - Miss. Mullet was indeed right, along with my mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight is going to be a fun night! I'm hanging out with my (Katelyn)Caitlyns. we're having a camp rock party at Katelyns house then going to see the JoBros movie (&lt;b&gt;obviously&lt;/b&gt;) for the fifth timeee (: ! I like my social life right now, I like that I'm single. Like obviously it'd be nice to have a boyfriend, but I'm not out searching for one. If it happens it happens. Right now all I'm focused on is graduating and hopefully getting into college. Besides the only boys I really need are Joe, Kevin &amp; Nick J &amp;hearts; hahaha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after school Patrick and I are going to the mall and I'm getting my first bathing suit for Arizonaaaa! I'm so excited! I really &lt;u&gt;really&lt;/u&gt; need this vacation, like you have noo ideaa. I'm also excited to see Alex, I miss that little shit more than life. Which is weird because I've spent half my life envying her. I think its different now because I'm older and I know that I'm talented in my own way and she's talented in hers. She's still my little cousin and she always will be no matter what. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go. I'm researching a few more colleges. Better late than never I guesss. Hahaha. &lt;br /&gt;Later haterrrr (: &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-1179072869944150986?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/1179072869944150986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=1179072869944150986' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1179072869944150986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1179072869944150986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/hey-baby-why-are-you-messing-with-me.html' title='Hey baby, why are you messing with me.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-1074541404862131181</id><published>2009-03-05T07:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T08:11:43.719-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mess with her she'll fuck you up.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Heed my warning bitch.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;This isn't over.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today has to be marked as one of my worst days ever. Like I'm trying to be quiet and I'm trying to just do my work and survive these last three months, but I just keep hitting these damn obstacles. I'm sick of obstacles. I want easy street. I know "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" but come on! There's only so much one girl can take, and I'm at my wits end! Today for example, I have detention. Yes detention. I don't get detention I barely have to stay after school. And none other than my fucking Mullet-headed slut bag of an english teacher put me in there. Sure I was using Leandras ipod, but I put it away once she asked, and she thought I was still on it and she like flipped. Honestly I hate her, sure the bitch wrote me an amazing recommendation, but seriously she's a bitch. No one likes you, go kill yourself. I don't bother her. Sure I don't always do my work, but I'm quiet and non disruptive. I'm not a problem, so why the fuck are you picking on me cunt? She wants to play these games? Well let me tell you, once again YOU CAN'T PLAY GAMES WITH THE GIRL WHO MADE UP THE RULES. So therefore Miss. Mullet you are in for a rude awakening let me tell you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so fucking sick of everything. I really think I'm on the edge of a nervous break down. Like a real one. I have this huge research paper due like tomorrow and I haven't even started it because I need fucking help but no one bothers to even acknowledge that fact. I'm legit invisible. I don't exist to anyone. &lt;b&gt;I'm fucking sick of it&lt;/b&gt;. I swear I could go out one day and never come home and no one would notice. No one would miss me, no one would care. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to cry so bad you have no idea, but I can't and I don't know why. I want to hit something. I'm going to fail this paper. I'm not going to graduate, wooofuckinghoo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-1074541404862131181?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/1074541404862131181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=1074541404862131181' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1074541404862131181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1074541404862131181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/mess-with-her-shell-fuck-you-up.html' title='Mess with her she&apos;ll fuck you up.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-4475186538792098395</id><published>2009-03-04T05:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T08:00:21.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My hearts in a battle, not sure I can win.</title><content type='html'>I'm losing control of my love -- &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had practice till 9 -&lt;b&gt;Last practice ever :(&lt;/b&gt;- and when I came home, no one was to be found. So I had dinner alone. Yes &lt;u&gt;alone&lt;/u&gt;. Although my mother came downstairs halfway through still the point is that I've never felt so alone in &lt;s&gt;my own house&lt;/s&gt; ever in my life. Honestly I'm so much happier at Caitlyns. God we really need to get jobs so we can start saving for a damn apartment. I know what you're thinking "you'll never survive together, you'll kill each other!" Truth? &lt;b&gt;No.&lt;/b&gt; no we won't. We've been pretty much living together for months now and the two of us could handle anything life throws at us. Sure we'll have our fights, but what roommates DON'T fight every now and again? Not to mention our place would be totally tricked out Jonas Styleeee ; ) hahah! God I really, really can't wait. We'll probably need another roommate, and that will be slightly stressful because I don't like people. Maybe Cataldo could live with us. Hmmm, then again that MIGHT be a bad idea. Our apartment would be a fucking party house in 3 days flat. Sorry, I'm not about to open my house to smelly boys and slut faced girls that I don't like. I don't know we need jobs first and then we'll figure everything out. Anyway back to last night, after I cried I called up Patrick, I don't know why but I did and it felt right. I was sitting on the kitchen table bawling my eyes out and he just pulled me into his lap and held me while I cried. He didn't say anything for a while, but then he started trying to make me laugh and it worked. I miss my best friend, I want things to go back to normal. Like before we even went out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm in the worst battle with myself right now its not even funny. I hate &lt;b&gt;everything&lt;/b&gt; about myself, not one part of my body makes me happy, not one. And I hatee it. Like I want to be happy with myself. I want to see what my mom sees when she looks at me. I don't believe that I'm beautiful I can't trust that when people say that to me. I don't know why but its so hard for me to see what they see. I don't even know why I'm writing this but it feels good getting it all out I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being single. Random I know, but I do. I'm not looking for a relationship, I don't want to be dating or "talking" to anyone. I want to focus on graduating and finding a job and getting myself to my "alone happiness" Because until I have that, I can't have a thing with anyone else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go, I probably won't update until tomorrow. &lt;br /&gt;Later hater &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-4475186538792098395?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/4475186538792098395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=4475186538792098395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4475186538792098395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4475186538792098395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-hearts-in-battle-not-sure-i-can-win.html' title='My hearts in a battle, not sure I can win.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6902132030906055537</id><published>2009-02-25T05:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T05:33:43.929-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cause I love to see you in the dark.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;OBSESSED WITH HONOR SOCIETY.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Thanks Louiseee :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dumb post, but I've been singing it all day and even though it hurts and takes all my energy just to breath, I busted out with the honor roll in the middle of the hall way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let it be known, I is a freaaakkkkk (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6902132030906055537?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6902132030906055537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6902132030906055537' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6902132030906055537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6902132030906055537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/cause-i-love-to-see-you-in-dark.html' title='Cause I love to see you in the dark.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-628839459211479507</id><published>2009-02-25T05:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T05:26:54.991-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is on its way.</title><content type='html'>So hold on another day&lt;br /&gt;Cause love is on its way&lt;br /&gt;You'll find it's gonna be ok&lt;br /&gt;Cause love is on its way&lt;br /&gt;Its alright you'll find a brighter day&lt;br /&gt;Cause love is on its way ---- &amp;hearts;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh heyyyy. So, I'm still sick. Still stressed out. Still single &amp; still haven't even begun to think about my be all end all research paper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I'm on a roll, no?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-628839459211479507?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/628839459211479507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=628839459211479507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/628839459211479507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/628839459211479507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/love-is-on-its-way.html' title='Love is on its way.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-472811794556110371</id><published>2009-02-24T05:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T05:47:00.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I took a ride on a February morning, just getting over it and dealing with the mourning</title><content type='html'>--- &lt;b&gt;I started thinking out loud,&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired.&lt;br /&gt;My baby's flying off the edge of the road&lt;br /&gt;She's sayin' "I'm so sorry about that note"&lt;br /&gt;That left me all alone&lt;br /&gt;But I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'd be lying if I told you,&lt;br /&gt;losing you was something I could handle&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; * ---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello childrenn. Its been a few dayss, I was on vacation and really only feel compelled to blog when I'm in school suffering from my never ending studies. &lt;b&gt;Blah&lt;/b&gt;. I'm so sick of school, I have a never ending case of senoritis and its getting on my last nerve. 98 more days though. That's three more months. Although its going to be the &lt;u&gt;longest&lt;/u&gt; three months of my life, at least have things to look forward too that will make it somewhat more bearable. Things such as Arizonaaa! senior luau, prom, my birthday! Senior skip day, MCAS late days, &amp;&amp; I'm sure there will be more unplanned shit happening that will make these last three months worthwhile. Oh speaking of unplanned shit, lets talk about the research paper I have to do that is guaranteed to make or break me, and at this point its completely &lt;i&gt;breaking&lt;/i&gt; me. It counts for my FAA final grade, my english/humanities final, and its my senior project. So basically I have to do good or its another year in this hell hole for Samantha &lt;s&gt;NOT HAPPENING!&lt;/s&gt; Sorry, as of May 22nd I am &lt;b&gt;DONE&lt;/b&gt; with EHS for&lt;u&gt;EVER&lt;/u&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm "dating" monster mini golf boy. Yea. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;&amp; That's enough of that. &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Moving on....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick. Like obnoxiously sick. And I'm cold. I choose today to wear a flimsy black T-shirt with no sweatshirt. &lt;b&gt;DUMBASS&lt;/b&gt;. I have practice tonight, I don't wanna go. I want to sleep but I have to go cause I'm missing tomorrow and Saturday cause of damn dancing. Only 3 more months left of that shit too! Ughh never again will I try to do a million and one things at once. Too much, too stressful. I need a vacation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait Arizona in  53 days, what?!?!&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait! Sun, pool, no stress &lt;b&gt;here I come&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go, I'll blog more 4th period. &lt;br /&gt;Laterr skatersss!&lt;br /&gt;oh btw &lt;b&gt;LINH IS A CHEATER!&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In case anyone was wondering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-472811794556110371?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/472811794556110371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=472811794556110371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/472811794556110371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/472811794556110371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-took-ride-on-february-morning-just.html' title='I took a ride on a February morning, just getting over it and dealing with the mourning'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7497064991024547160</id><published>2009-02-12T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T14:38:43.931-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do me a favor....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;amp; disregard all of the blog post having to do with "&lt;strong&gt;Boy&lt;/strong&gt;" or any boy for that matter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Those things weren't real and until I find someone that is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;remotely&lt;/span&gt; close to being "real", I will no longer write about things with penises unless they're just friendly penises. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ok? greattttt ( : &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ladaaa for real now &amp;hearts; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7497064991024547160?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7497064991024547160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7497064991024547160' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7497064991024547160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7497064991024547160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/do-me-favor.html' title='Do me a favor....'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6583997908335365160</id><published>2009-02-12T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T14:29:48.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She's a lady &amp; ladies shouldn't be messed with</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=z174962854.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/z174962854.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Absolutely ; )&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So today was a rather good day, I've been feeling good about myself again and I loveee it! I applied to college - yea I know what you're thinking, but I did it &amp;amp; I'm nervous as hell about it. So I'm starting this "apprenticeship program" at school tomorrow and I'm really excited about it. I get to go to an elementary school and help out in the kindergarten classrooms. I'm actually kind of nervous about it haha. Ughhh I have to do my damn college writing paper since I won't have time during the day tomorrow. &lt;strong&gt;Ugh &lt;em&gt;fuck &lt;/em&gt;meee&lt;/strong&gt;. This is kind of short and sweet cause I'm going to dinner with Daddy the insane, I'll be back on tonight avoiding my paper no doubt :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ladaaaa &amp;hearts; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6583997908335365160?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6583997908335365160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6583997908335365160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6583997908335365160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6583997908335365160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/shes-lady-ladies-shouldnt-be-messed.html' title='She&apos;s a lady &amp; ladies shouldn&apos;t be messed with'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6020543738274382317</id><published>2009-02-10T05:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T05:40:12.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You're the one thing I got right.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Yea, &lt;i&gt;right&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're actually the one thing I got completely wrong, but you're not the only one to blame for this. I'm at fault too. But I've never been as cruel as you. I never played with your heart and mind in such away that you've literally become sick over it. I'm over you. I've never been so over something in my life, but I just can't seem to let you go completely. and &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; I blame on you. For so long I've been dependent of you. You were my security blanket, the one thing that I was sure would stay the same. The one thing I &lt;s&gt;knew&lt;/s&gt; THOUGHT would always be there. &lt;b&gt;The one thing that could never hurt me&lt;/b&gt;. I guess that's all a part in growing up though. Falling in love, just to fall even harder out of it. Heartbreak and tears. But in some awfully undefined way those things are what makes you stronger. I'm not weak, although I probably should be, but I'm not. And what we went through, &lt;b&gt;what I went through &amp; what I'm still going through&lt;/b&gt; is the reason I am the way I am. It's both good and bad. I'm stronger, yet no longer trusting, no longer loving. You took the sweetest girl and destroyed her, only to have her come out on top again. Sure I have the hard outer shell now and it will probably take a miracle for me to have a trusting relationship with something with a penis ever again, but it will happen. I'm sure of it. And somewhere inside of me that girl that you fucked with, the girl that you made cry, that wonderful, beautifully fun girl, she's still there and one day she'll come back around. But for now she's just a little scared. So bottom line is I want to thank you Corey, &lt;b&gt;I couldn't have done it without you&lt;/b&gt;. You saved me from feeling this in the future, you taught me to prevent it. You taught me not to fall so easily and you taught me that &lt;i&gt;forever&lt;/i&gt; really does have an ending. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Is why I &lt;b&gt;love&lt;/b&gt; blogging. Sure it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I feel so much better. I'm smiling and crying in the middle of the library but its good. Its that good cry, the one that just lets all your emotions go. Kind of like shedding your skin. I like who I'm becoming and I love that I can finally let Him go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6020543738274382317?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6020543738274382317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6020543738274382317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6020543738274382317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6020543738274382317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/youre-one-thing-i-got-right.html' title='You&apos;re the one thing I got right.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-749699590919477399</id><published>2009-02-09T07:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T18:47:44.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cause when youre seventeen and somebody tells you they love you youre gonna believe them.</title><content type='html'>Ugh I'm so tired, you have &lt;b&gt;no&lt;/b&gt; idea. I had a long week, and this week is even longer. I have a game today, practice tomorrow, dancing Wednesday, practice again Thursday, and hopefully I won't be passed out in a corner somewhere come Friday. Not to mention in between all this I have a college application due in the admissions office before Sunday and a research paper that just might be my cause of death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this weekend was a good one. Friday night I went and had a "Biddie night" at Biddielovee's house. We haven't had one of those in a very long time, so it was good. then on Saturday I had dancing like every Saturday morning and I also had practice at 145 till 345. I was fucking dead. Even though I barely did anything in practice, just being there makes me tired and weak. Then I went to Carmen's birthday party at &lt;b&gt;Monster Mini Golf&lt;/b&gt; and I was legit transformed into a five year old when I got there. I wasted so much money on that stupid deal or no deal game and the highest amount of tickets I got was like 50. I got my ass kicked in air hockey too by Cataldo and my frigging mother, I felt extremely defeated. On the plus side though there were a lot of cuties working and on of them just so happened to be working Carmen's party. When we were all waiting in line to start golfing I walked up to him and had a little impromptu conversation, where I thought I sounded like a complete ditz, but he seemed to enjoy it because at the end of the party we exchanged numbers &lt;b&gt;XD&lt;/b&gt; and last night I think he asked me out on a date, but I'm not exactly sure? Haha, I dunno, I'm not really stressing anything. &lt;i&gt;If it happens, it  happens.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so hungry its insaneeee! And I have a whole half a period till lunch, &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;fucking fabulous&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. I want sushi so so so so BAD! you have no idea. I have a new favorite song btw, its by Miss. Miley Cyrus and its really really good compared to her other shit. Its called "The Climb" &amp; its like my theme song no lie. Here's the some of it: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The struggles I’m facing,&lt;br /&gt;The chances I’m taking&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes they might knock me down but&lt;br /&gt;No I’m not breaking&lt;br /&gt;I may not know it&lt;br /&gt;But these are the moments that&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to remember most yeah&lt;br /&gt;Just got to keep going&lt;br /&gt;And I,&lt;br /&gt;I got to be strong&lt;br /&gt;Just keep pushing on,&lt;br /&gt;cause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s always going to be another mountain&lt;br /&gt;I’m always going to want to make it move&lt;br /&gt;Always going to be an uphill battle,&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm going to have to lose,&lt;br /&gt;Ain’t about how fast I get there,&lt;br /&gt;Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side&lt;br /&gt;It’s the climb&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me that's not my life struggle in song form? If I can make it through the next four months I deserve a fucking medal. Well I'm gunna go apply myself to some actual school work, maybe I'll do my college writing paper that was due like a month ago? Hahah &lt;u&gt;doubt it&lt;/u&gt;. Maybe more tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;BUHBYEEE FAGGOTS&amp;hearts;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-749699590919477399?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/749699590919477399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=749699590919477399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/749699590919477399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/749699590919477399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/cause-when-youre-seventeen-and-somebody.html' title='Cause when youre seventeen and somebody tells you they love you youre gonna believe them.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-3604248909548564128</id><published>2009-02-06T08:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T09:29:22.033-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ok so before I start, I'm currently obsessed with these 25 random things things on facebook and I've done two already so I'm gunna do another one on here. Hopefully its my last oneee! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Rules: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I wish I could start senior year over again, there's a lot of things that I would change. &lt;br /&gt;2. I have a problem with waking up and going to school, I just can't seem to do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I hate every girl that my ex dates, "talks" to or even looks at. They could be the sweetest girl in the world, but I wouldn't give them a chance if they tried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I wish I had siblings. Older. Younger. I wouldn't really care, just someone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I wash my body &amp; shave with Axe body wash in the scent of Kilo :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I swear to god that having a sidekick is almost like have a drug addiction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I've never felt like I've completely belonged to something. Like I've been dancing for 15 years, but never felt like I was welcomed there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I always wonder if people notice me half as much as I notice them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I can't wait till its just me and my mom in our own little apartment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I hate that my relationship with my father has fallen apart, but I'm also not fighting that hard to build it back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. I have full bangs by accident. They were supposed to just be side swept, but they were cut too short so I improvised &amp; it turns out I like em this way a lot better :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I hate when people mimic my style. I know I should be flattered, but I'm just annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I constantly bite the skin of my fingers, its gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I'm half cuban. Most people don't believe me when I say this, but its true Daddy was fresh off the boat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. I have the best relationship with my grandfather. Sure he has another grandaughter, but its an unspoken obvious fact that I will forever be his favorite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. I'm not a fan of my mothers side of the family, but I suck it up &amp; tolorate them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. I don't have a huge family, and I forever wish that I did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. I can't wait to get my firs tattoo! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. I've had the same four best friends for 17 years. We made the transition from bubble baths &amp; sleepovers to alcohol &amp; hangovers quite nicely if I do say so myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. I'm slowly learning how to be an adult &amp; deal with my responsibilites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. I'm a horrible sharer. Its a dead give away that I'm an only child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. My eyes always betray me, they always show the emotion that I'm really feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I have OCD in a half when it comes to my purse. Everything has its own spot and I freak out when it gets messy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. I hate clothes. If it was legal I'd walk around in a cute pair of bra &amp; undies all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. I'm convinced that I have ADHD &amp; I'm a 110% sure that my "dinosaur spine" isn't at all normal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-3604248909548564128?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/3604248909548564128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=3604248909548564128' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3604248909548564128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3604248909548564128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/ok-so-before-i-start-im-currently.html' title=''/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8051117015604236230</id><published>2009-02-03T05:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T05:43:00.669-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You know that cuts, scars, bruises hurt, so why do you like it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;First period blogging session&lt;/b&gt; &amp;hearts; &lt;br /&gt;Lots to talk about, but not much to say. Boy and I are no more. &lt;i&gt;Seen that one coming&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Their all good guys. &lt;u&gt;Until their not&lt;/u&gt;." &lt;br /&gt;So&lt;i&gt;trueee&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it wasn't a long relationship, if you can even call it that, but it still hurt. Its reasons like this that I am the way I am. It doesn't hurt, it just makes me realize that I am doing something wrong. That it is indeed me and &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So &lt;b&gt;I'm joining the dark side.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Or at least that's what Linh calls it. All joking aside, I could totally see that happening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;i&gt;I'm a dick kinda girl.&lt;/i&gt; I just like flirting with the vag, that's it." Lauren Culp&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8051117015604236230?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8051117015604236230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8051117015604236230' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8051117015604236230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8051117015604236230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-know-that-cuts-scars-bruises-hurt.html' title='You know that cuts, scars, bruises hurt, so why do you like it?'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-2539824195474042405</id><published>2009-02-02T19:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T19:39:11.287-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You just don't know it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I think our relationship is not going to turn into anything but friends."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;amp; just like that, it was all over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-2539824195474042405?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/2539824195474042405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=2539824195474042405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2539824195474042405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2539824195474042405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-just-dont-know-it.html' title='You just don&apos;t know it.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6671309291420365182</id><published>2009-02-02T05:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T06:12:34.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>if I'm just bad news, then you're a liar.</title><content type='html'>HiHi (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so shitty right now :( I'm almost positive that I have strep throat and its &lt;i&gt;killing&lt;/i&gt; me. I have a doctors appointment today to determine this theory which means I'll be missing my game, which also means I'll be getting screamed at. &lt;b&gt;Fabulous&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was one of the most bitter sweet days I've ever experienced in my entire seventeen years of existence. I went food shopping with Kickstand and Missa who is newly nicknamed "Chain" and let me tell you, I don't think &lt;i&gt;anyone&lt;/i&gt; could have as much fun food shopping as we did in "Puerto Rico". After that I came home to find Biddie &amp; Baka in my kitchen bonding with my mother, which lead to lots of laughs and interesting conversation. Then Kickstand, Missa &amp; I ventured to the mall where I dropped 50 dollars on the illest sneakers known to man kind. No, I'm not kidding, if you seen these things you'd totally understand why. I also purchased an Power Rangers T-shirt cause I'm 5 again (: After all these shinanigans I went to Caitlyns figuring I was done with the events for the day. &lt;b&gt;Oh No.&lt;/b&gt; I was driving to s&amp;s to get Mommy Michelle &amp; Stepdaddy Mark some stuff, come to find I have a flat tire. Not just a little one either. &lt;i&gt;I was practically riding the rim&lt;/i&gt;. I freaked out &amp; called Patrick cause we all know there was &lt;u&gt;no&lt;/u&gt; way my ass was changing the tire. I called Mommy too, but god forbid she got there while the tire was still flat. &lt;b&gt;Note to self:&lt;/b&gt; Don't ever call mom if I've been shot for some reason and need immediate attention. So the tire gets fixed and I go to drive away, genius mechanic Patrick left the E break up and didn't tell me so the car gets stuck. Its so stuck in fact that the E brak won't go back down. So what does Samantha do? &lt;b&gt;Gets out of the car and&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;cries&lt;/i&gt;. I'm talking full on breakdown. It wasn't just from the car, it was everything. Every tiny soloritary thing that's been bothering me, that's been making me want to cry came out in the middle of Englewood ave (or street? I'm not really sure) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of things that make me cry.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't seen or really talked to Boy since friday when I slept at his house. And I barely saw him then because I was tired and my back hurt so bad, that I just fell asleep. Things have drastically changed between us and I &lt;i&gt;hate&lt;/i&gt; it. There's no reason for this, at least that I can see anyway, but I know I didn't do anything severly wrong. Except maybe caring way too much. It just sucks cause I was really enjoying this, the feelings I had/have weren't/aren't just lust anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Idkidkidkidk.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gunna sleep since Lahey isn't here today (: ! I'll maybe post later. I don't really know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6671309291420365182?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6671309291420365182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6671309291420365182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6671309291420365182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6671309291420365182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-im-just-bad-news-then-youre-liar.html' title='if I&apos;m just bad news, then you&apos;re a liar.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-217592274544615721</id><published>2009-01-30T05:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T06:41:33.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a good girl with the worst intentions.</title><content type='html'>"&lt;i&gt;I want to string her up by her toes, slit her wrists and burn her.&lt;/i&gt;" - Marielle Kendra &amp;hearts;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, who knew someone so small could be so hostel? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning was weird. I'm sick of these hot and cold days that I've been having. Remember how I said my family gives me emotional whiplash? Yea well I give &lt;b&gt;myself&lt;/b&gt; emotional whiplash. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(to Alex) "Hey you're a guy." - Marielle &lt;br /&gt;"oh my god no way!" - Me &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know what I ate for breakfast this morning?" - Marielle&lt;br /&gt;"What?" - Me&lt;br /&gt;"I had yogurt." - Marielle&lt;br /&gt;"Well I had Julians apples" - Me&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Oh I'm on &lt;u&gt;fire&lt;/u&gt; today! &lt;br /&gt;Here's a letter to &lt;b&gt;YOU&lt;/b&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Apparently I "confuse" &lt;b&gt;You&lt;/b&gt;. Which is so true, because I confuse the shit out of myself. But in my defense &lt;b&gt;you&lt;/b&gt; confused me &lt;b&gt;first&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;b&gt;You&lt;/b&gt; indirectly broke up something that hasn't even happened yet. Yes I want something with &lt;b&gt;You&lt;/b&gt; but this "wait" isn't going to hurt me. What will hurt me is being used, or not being you're only one. I know we're just talking but I'm not about to share you. Sorry I won't do it. It hasn't been long I know, but you've altereted my perspective on boys and that hasn't happened in long LONG time. I'm sorry if I've done anything to change your feelings twoards me but nothings changed for me. However long it takes, I assure you that I can wait but you know my conditions and I won't put up with bullshit. I've delt with that for too, too long and I'm still dealing with it now. I don't want a repeat of my past, because my future &lt;s&gt;should&lt;/s&gt; &lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;NEEDS&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt; be brighter and better. I want you to be the reason for the, really I do. This may be psychotic and not make sense, but I don't know how to put this in verbal words and I know you read this so this is easier for me. So like I've said before "don't make me change my mind"..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sincerly, me &amp;hearts;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this blog is all over the place huh? I guess it makes sense to me, sorry if no one else understands! Lolol. Well I'm gunna go work on my research paper, more later maybe? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Xoxox &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-217592274544615721?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/217592274544615721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=217592274544615721' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/217592274544615721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/217592274544615721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-good-girl-with-worst-intentions.html' title='I&apos;m a good girl with the worst intentions.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-3490714749874312954</id><published>2009-01-29T20:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T21:19:34.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want to fall asleep, cause I don't know if I'll get up</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&amp;&amp; I don't want to cause a scene but I'm dying without your love. &lt;br /&gt;Begging to hear your voice tell me &lt;i&gt;you love me&lt;/i&gt; too.&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'd rather just be alone, if I know that I can't have you.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey thereeeeee! I just did I survey involving iTunes and some of it was crazy funny! Look at it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OK" YOU SAY?&lt;br /&gt; Bella's lullaby - Twilight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?&lt;br /&gt;Out of the blue - Aly &amp; AJ&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?&lt;br /&gt;Thunder - Boys Like girls. &lt;br /&gt;Hmmm sounds sexual XD! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?&lt;br /&gt;Five minutes to midnight - BLG&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?&lt;br /&gt;Crush - David Archuletta&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?&lt;br /&gt;Get back - Demi Lovato&lt;br /&gt;Makes sense I guesss...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?&lt;br /&gt;Can I have this dance - HSM3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS 2+2?&lt;br /&gt;This is me - Demi Lovato&lt;br /&gt;Haha that's funny!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?&lt;br /&gt;Heroheroine - BLG&lt;br /&gt;Damn straight &lt;3 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?&lt;br /&gt;Walk away - HSM3 &lt;br /&gt;Hahaha that's ironic.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend - Nsync &amp; Nelly. &lt;br /&gt;Haha awkwardddd. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?&lt;br /&gt;Burnin' up - Jonas Brothers&lt;br /&gt;ABSOLUTELY! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?&lt;br /&gt;Don't trust me - 3OH!3&lt;br /&gt;Wow....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?&lt;br /&gt;If we were a movie - Hannah Montanna&lt;br /&gt;Sososososooooo true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?&lt;br /&gt;God must have spent a little more time on you - Nsync&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?&lt;br /&gt;Its over - Jesse McCartney&lt;br /&gt;Oh how fucking appropriate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/ INTEREST?&lt;br /&gt;She said - Mystery Tramps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?&lt;br /&gt;Lay all your love on me - Mamma Mia! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?&lt;br /&gt;We got the party with us - Hannah Montana  &amp; JoBros&lt;br /&gt;You know it bitchesss ;) !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHATS THE WORST THING THAT CAN HAPPEN?&lt;br /&gt;Pop - Nsync&lt;br /&gt;That makes sense too. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;HOW WILL YOU DIE?&lt;br /&gt;Go all the way(into the twilight) -Perry Farrel &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?&lt;br /&gt;When you look me in the eyes - JoBros&lt;br /&gt;Ahaaa wowwwww! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH ?&lt;br /&gt;Tangled up in me - Skye Sweetnam &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?&lt;br /&gt;Superhuman - Chris Brown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?&lt;br /&gt;Lovebug - JoBros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?&lt;br /&gt;The game is over - Nsync&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?&lt;br /&gt;Stronger - Kanye West&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?&lt;br /&gt;Put it on my tab - New kids on the block &amp; Akon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?&lt;br /&gt;Wake up America - Miley Cyrus&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT ARE YOU DOING ?&lt;br /&gt;Billy S. - Skye Sweetnam&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHA &lt;3333333 AHHHHHMAZING XD  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me some of that shit isn't just HILARIOUS?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway on to my wonderful day. &lt;i&gt;Yea wonderful&lt;/i&gt; just fucking &lt;b&gt;dandy&lt;/b&gt;. I went and judged the sixth grade science fair with Beebaby. For something that's supposed to be a simple easy day off from school it was hard and tiring! I wanted to pass out by the time we got to the second school. After that I went back to school for two periods and apparently I rape people with my eyes during gym? I didn't realize this was happening but when it was pointed out to me, I couldn't help but to keep staring. And I did the same thing at the game today when I wasn't busy trying to fit in with the damn squad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So words out that my hearts no longer in what I used to love most. &lt;b&gt;OH WELL&lt;/b&gt;! I don't care, there's only 5 months left of everything. All the bullshit will be &lt;u&gt;done&lt;/u&gt;. There will be no more bullshit &lt;i&gt;ever&lt;/i&gt; and I just might have to get drunk for 8 straight days just to celebrate the proper way (:  I think that sounds like an excelent plan! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a job. Like bad. But I really like working with kids, that's what I want to do. Maybe I'll work at a camp over the summer. Hmmmm &lt;b&gt;Samantha does summer camp&lt;/b&gt; sounds like it could either be a romantic dramady or a horribly bloody horror movie. I'm leaning more twoards horror flick....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for tomorrow! Its the winter dance at school and I have a hot hoochie dress with hot hoochie shoes so that Child can see what his dumbass passed up. Ohhh I'm sucha a sly &amp; vindictive bitch ;)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I think I'm going to get some sleep, I want to get up early so mommy can get me dunkies cause I'm a fat kid apparently these days. &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Like I wasn't before?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha ladaaaa faggiess &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-3490714749874312954?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/3490714749874312954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=3490714749874312954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3490714749874312954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3490714749874312954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-want-to-fall-asleep-cause-i-dont.html' title='I don&apos;t want to fall asleep, cause I don&apos;t know if I&apos;ll get up'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-2888816002841794599</id><published>2009-01-27T05:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T06:42:13.154-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"She looks like shrek!"</title><content type='html'>Hahaha I &lt;b&gt;loveee&lt;/b&gt; Livinator! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am having a fantastic day so far. But I'm not going to jinx myself because it is only first period. &lt;b&gt;I am officially out of algebra II!&lt;/b&gt; I feel so so accomplished hahaha. Maybe that's why my day is so good, because I no longer have to deal with Mr.Faggotface and his stupid antics of hating me. I just wrote the illist film review for "Everything is Illuminated" - which is now my new favorite movie! -  from legit the top of my head. Not to sound conceited or anything, but its amazing how good a writer I can be sometimes. I think I'm having a good day cause I'm not stressed about school anymore, I mean I still am but not as bad. Because now I don't have to kill myself trying to pass a math class that no one wants to help me with whatsoever. No I have to focus on my &lt;u&gt;one&lt;/u&gt; college essay and get all that stuff out by the end of the week. Hopefully we have no school tomorrow so that I can spend the whole day on the couch with my laptop and yummy coffee banging out an &lt;b&gt;AHHHHMAZING&lt;/b&gt; admissions essay. I'm sorry, but how can you &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; tell that I am a writer after that description?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;BELLL! More in a minute (:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok I'm back. I don't understand why I'm in such a good mood today, but I like it. Hopefully I'll stay this way! So Valentines day is comming up and although I'm not looking forward to it at all, I bought Hannah Montana lollipop valentines for all my friends anyways (: yay! Haha I'm a dork. Oh I'm on wifey status now, apparently me and Caitlyn are a couple cause I spoil her &amp; I'm taking her on a date at her own little brothers birthday party? Haha we're fucking idiots, but &lt;b&gt;you can't help but loveee us&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I need to get my laptop back from Patrick, but he "doesn't want to see me" so I haven't gotten it yet. This is legit the last time I ever give the boy I'm dating my laptop. Because it either gets smashed out a window or it gets held hostage. I can't wait till college when I get my Macbook and then people can do what they wish with my shitty HP computer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm gunna go, I'll probably blog again during the eight studies I have today. Haha &lt;br /&gt;Ladaaaa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-2888816002841794599?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/2888816002841794599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=2888816002841794599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2888816002841794599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2888816002841794599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/she-looks-like-shrek.html' title='&quot;She looks like shrek!&quot;'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8209837219211256851</id><published>2009-01-26T18:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T19:27:48.699-08:00</updated><title type='text'>&amp;&amp; you don't know why, but you're dying to try</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You wanna kiss the girl ;)&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sorry Its been a few days I know but I've been crazy busy. Well not really I've just been whatever with these blogs lately. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I got my report card today and I &lt;em&gt;sucked&lt;/em&gt;. I failed algebra again, but its not my fault. I do my work the teacher is just an ass. So Mommy got me removed from the class and put into an extra tutoring program with my favorites (: YAY!  but this means that Nort&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;hshore will most likely be my school of choice. Theres no way Lowell is gunna un-waitlist me now. &lt;strong&gt;Fuck me&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I want an iPhone. &lt;/strong&gt;Like really really bad and I don't know why cause I hate anything touch screen related. But I've become obsessed sincee like all of my friends have them now. Or maybe I just want a new phone cause my sidekick sucks. I hate it, like more than anything right now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I haven't seen Boy since thursday. &lt;em&gt;That's depressing&lt;/em&gt;. I really miss him, more than I should, But I really do. I miss his kisses and his smile and his cuddles. Waaa what am I ten?? &lt;strong&gt;Ick&lt;/strong&gt;. I think I'm seeing him tomorrow after he's done being a lifegaurd. I know what you're thinking "a life gaurd in the middle of January?" but hey, he can give me mouth to mouth &lt;em&gt;anyday.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well this is a short post, I'm gunna go write my report, hopefully talk to Boy &amp;amp; sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'll probaly post tomorrow since have all this extra study time. Ladaaaa bitchnastiessss!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8209837219211256851?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8209837219211256851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8209837219211256851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8209837219211256851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8209837219211256851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-dont-know-why-but-youre-dying-to.html' title='&amp;&amp; you don&apos;t know why, but you&apos;re dying to try'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-4354822594894373564</id><published>2009-01-23T21:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T21:58:13.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't understand myself sometimes.</title><content type='html'>Ugh I'm in the worst mood right now. I hate this, I want to be happy all the time. Not just sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to a party tonight and drank for the first time in like forever and the whole time I thought of Boy. I mean there were some gorgeous guys there and normally I'd be like "heyyyyyyy cutay!" but nope not this time. Of course I danced on the table &amp; played beer pong with my boys, but I constanly thought of him. I hate this, I really do. I'm rushing this shit so bad. I just don't know how to back off. I'm the type of person that when I want something I make sure I get it and no one else does. Its the only child in me I guess. I'm just gunna drown myself in school work and college shit and hopefully that will keep me in check. I don't want this rushed - even though it kind of already was - but I want it to work, I'm not fucking this up. Not this one, not this time. &lt;b&gt;Nope&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright now that I just vented I'm going to bed. Dancing in the morning wooo! &lt;br /&gt;Later skaters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-4354822594894373564?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/4354822594894373564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=4354822594894373564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4354822594894373564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4354822594894373564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-understand-myself-sometimes.html' title='I don&apos;t understand myself sometimes.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6941812046498613010</id><published>2009-01-23T10:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:45:35.235-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somethings never change......</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Once a whore, you're nothing more.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Yesssir :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ello Poppet (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I stayed home from school today! Big surprise there. I was doing good there for a while, I think I was going on a full month or something like that? Not really sure. But I had a fever and a headache normally I'd suck it up and go, but today I had college writing and that isn't exactly the best class to have a headache in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So the entire time I was home today I talked to Cmills and I missed him oh so much! I wish the asshole didn't up and move to L.A. &lt;strong&gt;Whatta dickkk&lt;/strong&gt;. But we started talking cause he read my blogs from yesterday and was worried. &lt;em&gt;Awww Cmills&lt;/em&gt; &amp;hearts; ! So we started chit chatting and he asked about my story, and since I'm wayyy to lazy to email it to him right now, I told him I'd put an excerpt here and email the rest later. Those of you who have to desire to read it, scroll down for more about my night last night (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Mina's mother opened her bedroom door. The light from the hallway flooded into the dark room, she pulled the blankets over her head. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Mina, its almost noon." Her mother said, she didn't say anything. Her mother sighed and pulled back the blankets. Mina screamed as the light she hadn't seen for days made he half open eyes water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Mom what the fuck are you doing?" She grabbed for a blanket with her eyes squeezed shut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; "Mina you have to leave this room sometime."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"No I really don't." She flopped on her stomach and buried her head in her pillow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Adimina, I know this is hard and it hurts, but you can't shut yourself out from the world like this." Mina rolled onto her back and blinked a few times till her eyes adjusted to the light. "Mina its a beautiful day outside, why don't you go for a run? It'll help I promise." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Mina sat up and looked at her mom, she motioned to the foot of her bed where her usual running clothes were laid out. She stared at them and then laid back down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Mina just put on your iPod and do a few laps around the block. Please." Mina sighed, her mother never begged. It was against her womanly code. So she got out of bed for the first time in weeks, he legs felt like jello when the made contact with the ground and she got slightly dizzy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Whoa." She said and gripped her mothers shoulder. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Take it slow baby, there's no rush." She kissed her on the forehead and left the room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Mina stood with her hands on her hips at the foot of her bed. Her mouth felt dry and her body was stiff, she reached up to run her fingers through her hair, but it got caught in a snarl. She turned around so she could take a look in the mirror. She cringed. That wasn't her was it? He normally tanned skin was pail and her jade eyes were dull and sunk in. Her red hair was matted and tangled, her lips chapped and her tear stained cheeks looked dry and rough. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"What the fuck." She mumbled. She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair, she gave up after the first three strokes and just tossed her hair into a messy bun. She threw on her running clothes and slid her tiny feet into her favorite black and pink Nike shocks. She walked over to her door, but decided she didn't want to interact with her mother just yet. She crossed the room and opened her bedroom window, she gracefully hopped out and landed on the ground with a low thud. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Once on the ground she took off running, he iPod blasting in her ears. She saw people staring at her as she passed, some did double takes wondering if she was really there at all. The hot August sun rose higher in the sky, her shirt was sticky with sweat, and she was out of breath and thirsty, but she wasn't about to stop. Every step she took, every time her foot hit the pavement another tear fell, but these weren't her usual tears of sorrow, they were hot and angry. She liked it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;After hours of running the perimeter of the town, she headed back home. Her angry, emotional running slowing as she neared her house. When she turned the corner she saw someone sitting on her porch, she started jogging towards the figure and saw that it was Allen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Al, what are you doing here? I thought you left for school already?" She said painting &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"I was supposed too, but I had to see you first." He didn't look at her when he spoke, he just started across the street.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"OK? What's up?" She rested her body against the railing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"its about Malcolm." She pushed away from her perch and stared at him, her eyes boring holes into his skin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"What about Malcolm?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"I know who killed him." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hahaha that's it (:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Sorry Cmills&lt;/em&gt;! But you'll get more later loveee. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Now on to last night. It was Great. Perfect even. But obviously I know have even more doubts and fears. &lt;strong&gt;Fuck me and my insecure heart&lt;/strong&gt;. Boy is everything I've asked for, I've never wanted to something to work and be real so bad in my life. I'm different when I'm with him, its great feeling this way. &lt;em&gt;I want it to last&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm bothered by the fact that I'm younger than Boy though. I know there's nothing I can do about it, but I don't want him to be like "you're little sorry bye." Sure I'm a baby in age, but I'm more mature than most people think. I'm the perfect balance of maturity and immaturity, lets hope he realizes that. I'm trying not to get too attached, because w're not "offical" yet, so there's no strings. Which worries me, &lt;strong&gt;a&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lot&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hope for the best, but expect the worst.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;That's my motto on life, always has been always will be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm gunna go nap though, I need to be well rested for dinner with Daddy the insane tonight. Hopefully I'll see boy. &lt;strong&gt;I hope. I hope. I hope.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6941812046498613010?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6941812046498613010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6941812046498613010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6941812046498613010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6941812046498613010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/somethings-never-change.html' title='Somethings never change......'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-1414771676269378403</id><published>2009-01-22T09:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T10:54:24.454-08:00</updated><title type='text'>you're a beautiful, such a beautiful disaster</title><content type='html'>I'm not in the mood for anything at all today. I'm really not. I had a friggin anxeity attack at the end of fourth period. Its been almost a year since my last attack and this was horrible. I forgot what it felt like to be forced to the floor because the room was spinning so badly like I'd just dowend 8 shots of vodka and tried to stand up. I forgot what it was like to fight for air and most of all I forgot what it was like to be in the darkness, where peoples voices are so far off in the distance that they sound no louder than a mouse squeak. I didn't miss this. Not at all. Not one bit. None of this stuff ever regestered before because they were so frequent. But then they just stopped out of no where and then today of all days I have to have one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh whatever. Fuck. &lt;br /&gt;I'm in Nuzzies room doing yearbook shit, its taking my mind of life. Byee!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-1414771676269378403?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/1414771676269378403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=1414771676269378403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1414771676269378403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1414771676269378403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/youre-beautiful-such-beautiful-disaster.html' title='you&apos;re a beautiful, such a beautiful disaster'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-19283493408044055</id><published>2009-01-22T05:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T06:33:02.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Too aggravated to think up a title.</title><content type='html'>Good&lt;b&gt;fucking&lt;/b&gt;morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess its pretty obvious that I'm not anywhere &lt;i&gt;near&lt;/i&gt; being in a good mood. Which is different because for almost a straight week I've been in a good mood, but hey nothing lasts forever right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Speaking of &lt;u&gt;forever&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;: &lt;br /&gt;Fuckhead is forever fucking shit up for me! He just always seems to find some way to make me even the tiniest bit unhappy. Even if its indirectly and unintentional, which its &lt;b&gt;never&lt;/b&gt; unintentional. You're probably like "wtf is this bitch talking about" and maybe I shouldn't be this upset over it, but its affect shit with me and Boy. I sent Fuckhead a facebook friend request like months ago and since we haven't been in contact all that much and he's heard about me and Boy he accepted in hopes of finding out more about my life. So Boy saw that he accepted and got a tad bit tiffed. I can totally understand why, because I'd be a little pissed if he started talking to his psycho ex - &lt;b&gt;if he even has a psycho ex?&lt;/b&gt; - But like I don't want to fight about this with him and I don't want him thinking &lt;b&gt;"oh she's going back to her ex."&lt;/b&gt; Because that's not what I'm doing. I don't want fuckhead, I &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;HIM&lt;/b&gt;. So so so so so so bad &amp; I don't think he fully understands that yet. How the fuck am I going to fix this? I don't want to fuck this up, I know this is different. &lt;i&gt;I can feel it&lt;/i&gt;. What I'm saying is that when I "talked" to boys before, I was always somewhat involved with someone else. - &lt;b&gt;Whore.&lt;/b&gt; Yes I know. - But not with Boy, I'm all about him. This is usually how I get hurt, but for some reason he makes it easier to let go of that notion. He makes me want to trust him, he makes me want this to be &lt;u&gt;real&lt;/u&gt;. Hopefully I won't live to regret those words...... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that grinds my gears -&lt;b&gt;FAMILY GUY REFERENCE!&lt;/b&gt; is that Jbanga told me he was "sexually with" 2 different girls this weeked and then doesn't tell me who they are! Who does that? Expecially to a nosey bitch like me. I mean we went out yea whatever, but like we have this weird we should hate each other but don't and are almost kinda best friends cause we tell each other everything sorta relationship, and so like why wouldn't you just tell me? I told him about me &amp; Boy and he knows almost as much as Caitlyn. &lt;i&gt;Almost&lt;/i&gt; HA. Whatever, I'm not going to stress it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todays my day off from &lt;b&gt;everything&lt;/b&gt;. I can do whatever I want &amp; I just want to see Boy. I want his cuddles and kisses and I want to be the reason for that crazily adroable smile on his face. How is this happening? How am I possibly feeling this way so fast? I can't get ahead of myself, because what if this doesn't work out and I put all my heart into it? Then I'm fucked with a broken heart again. I honestly don't know anymore... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gues I'm gunna go pay attention in class, for real. Maybe it will take my mind off things. I'll probably post later? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-19283493408044055?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/19283493408044055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=19283493408044055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/19283493408044055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/19283493408044055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/too-aggravated-to-think-up-title.html' title='Too aggravated to think up a title.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-1618070523690637506</id><published>2009-01-21T07:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T08:20:53.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'>&amp;&amp; we were making love by Wednesday.</title><content type='html'>I'm delirious, you have no idea. My dumbass had two iced coffees last night at like 10 and I was wired. So I didn't go to sleep till like 4 and was up at 6. There was no power in the city of Everett this morning so I couldn't straighten my hair. Conviently the power went back on right before school so I just did it there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to fucking slap Mr. Easy. He fucking yelled at me first period today because I never have math work. Well I don't have math work because my teacher is a fucking old miserable faggot who refuses to give me work. &lt;b&gt;asshole&lt;/b&gt;. I seriously can't wait for graduation, I think I'll cry just because I'll never have to see the nasty teachers of EHS that I hate ever again! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Boy is picking me up from school today! I'm so excited, only I look like crap so yea. Haha. We were both up till like three last night texting and I was telling him stuff that I've never told anyone except Caitlyn and my momma. He's way too good to be true this boy of mine. I finally told momma about him, and of course the first thing out of her mouth was &lt;i&gt;"don't have sex with him for a really long time."&lt;/i&gt; Honestly, am I &lt;b&gt;that big of a&lt;/b&gt; &lt;u&gt;whore&lt;/u&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I finally finished a story! It wasn't the sequal to my &lt;u&gt;For Joe&lt;/u&gt; story like I was planning, its actually the Malcolm story. Its funny how it ended up being completely different from what I wanted in the begining. But I like it this way better. And trust me its nothing you'd be expecting from me, its not my typical girl gets the boy of her dreams bullshit. Its so far from that it hurts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently reading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, the guy who wrote The Kite Runner which I'm absolutely &lt;b&gt;obsessed&lt;/b&gt; with, I could read that book a million and one times and never get sick of it. This new book though is surprisingly good, although I hate the mother in it. She kind of makes me want to crawl into the book and slap her ugly bitchass around a bit. Of course Ms.Carney gave me the book and knew right away I'd love it. I love how back in sophmore year I hated that bitch and now the sole reason I'm even graduating is because of her. But I'll elaborate more on the book when I get further into it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waaa I'm starvingggg! I just want my chicken broccoli ziti for lunch mannn. Ok well I'm gunna pretend I'm reviewing for my math midterm and really just catch up on some lost sleep. I don't know if I'll be able to post again tonight because I've got a million and 91 things to do, if not I'll have a post for tomorrow! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later skaters 8-) !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-1618070523690637506?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/1618070523690637506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=1618070523690637506' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1618070523690637506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/1618070523690637506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/we-were-making-love-by-wednesday.html' title='&amp;&amp; we were making love by Wednesday.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7431950831485597754</id><published>2009-01-20T21:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T21:12:40.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This picture makes me....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;SLIGHTLY &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;obsessed&lt;/strong&gt; with myself. (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=009.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/009.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ahhahahahaa I'm a loser! Yaya!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7431950831485597754?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7431950831485597754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7431950831485597754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7431950831485597754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7431950831485597754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/this-picture-makes-me.html' title='This picture makes me....'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7687276781153534323</id><published>2009-01-20T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T21:06:10.132-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You're so fine, I want you mine, You're so delicious</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I think about you all the time. You're so addictive&lt;/strong&gt; ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I had two iced coffees at like 930 and I am an overly hyper mess! &lt;u&gt;Waaaaaaaa&lt;/u&gt;! So much for me sleeping early huh? I'm just waiting for me to &lt;em&gt;completely&lt;/em&gt; crash one day, I swear I'm on the verge of a breakdown. Whoever is around me when I do have one is in for some laughs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;You know what keeps me going? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THESE BITCHES:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=001-2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/001-2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=002-2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/002-2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=003-3.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/003-3.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=012-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/012-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=010-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/010-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/?action=view&amp;amp;current=079.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a164/lilplayababe/079.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Chances are I'd die without them. Yup pretty sure I'd be a lifeless blob without em. hahahahahah (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I miss Boy, probably more than I should for the sorta relationship we have, but I do. He's like a permanent fixture in my brain. Which is fine with me because lets face it, he's &lt;strong&gt;GORGEOUS &lt;/strong&gt;so I don't mind thinking about him. But I'm scared the feelings aren't as mutual as I think. I'm probably just a paranoid bitch, but I have reasons to be. I've been fucked over so many times, had my heart ripped out and stomped on, been beaten mentally and physically, had my innocence and my trust robbed from me like it was the cool thing too do, all by a person who continually told me he loved me and swore he'd never be the horrible person he forever was to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"For every untrusting girl there's a boy that made her that way."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;True story. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ughh I'm so messed up its horrible.&lt;strong&gt; Fuck.Fukc.&lt;em&gt;Fuck&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I dunno, I guess I'm gunna go toss and turn throught the night like &lt;u&gt;always&lt;/u&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hopefully I'll talk to Boy? Ladaa faggiesss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7687276781153534323?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7687276781153534323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7687276781153534323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7687276781153534323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7687276781153534323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/youre-so-fine-i-want-you-mine-youre-so.html' title='You&apos;re so fine, I want you mine, You&apos;re so delicious'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-4484870823845311580</id><published>2009-01-20T05:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T08:19:56.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There's just something about me and you....</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;That I want to get used too.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatttuppp. I just finished my math quiz that I decided not to do on Friday and just have my tutor help me today, and thanks to her I'm probably going to get my first 100% &lt;u&gt;ever&lt;/u&gt; in math! So I'm probably failing journalism because I got zero work done over the weekend and the grades are due today, oh and I have an English midterm third period that I didn't study for. &lt;b&gt;Fuck me&lt;/b&gt;. I want to be a good student, not a dumbass procrastinator, someone needs to like slap the procrastination out of me. Legit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream about Boy last night. I've been dreaming about him a lot, but it was never fully him, just like resemblances of him. And last night it was fully him. &lt;i&gt;It was great&lt;/i&gt; hahaha. I woke up at like 430, since I clearly don't do the whole sleep soundly through the night thing anymore and started writing like crazy. Apparently the dream inspired me? Or maybe its just Boy that does it? I don't really know but since the start of last week I've almost filled up my pink journal Caitlyn got me for Christmas. Now if I could only put that kind of effort into my school work....... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have cheering today &amp; I don't want to go. I hate competition practice because I'm an alternate and I do shit for 3 hours. But I think Its only like 2 hours today? not really sure. But then I have dinner with Auntie and I'm going to tell her about Boy (: Its sad that I'm scared to tell my mother these things, but I'm not feeling having to listen to one of her annoyingly repetitive lectures at this point in my life. Although its new and its still in its early stages, the relationship I have with Boy makes me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I'm back. I'm a fucking stressed out mess. I have to get this essay done if I want to send it in by th 15th. I'm just so scared I'm not going to get what I want, I can't handle rejection. Everyone I know is constantly getting accepted to college and I'm "wait listed" to my dream school. Like wtf is that?! I don't want fucking Northshore. I want to live away from home, I want it! I want it! I WANT IT! This essay has to be good. Its literally my &lt;b&gt;last&lt;/b&gt; chance. But what if I suck? What if my essay sucks and their like "fuck you Samantha!" its happened you know, who's to say some college won't do it to me? Wtf, I'm a fucking mess mess mess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I might be going to California! Mommy has to go to Tijuana like always and I refuse to stay home without her. Besides she'll probably go around April vacation and with all my friends going to the Bahamas I'm boud to be &lt;i&gt;straight miserable&lt;/i&gt;. Cali would be nice though, spending the day laid out by the pool just relaxing it up. Yea I could def use me some of that! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm running on like maybe 11 hours of sleep? And I'm currently delerious. So forgive me if I ramble. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in math class right now and god forbid I pay attention. I hate this fucking teacher, he literally doesn't care that I'm failing. Its not like I'm failing cause I just don't care, I'm failing because  I understand shit about these numbers and no one cares enough to fucking strap me down (ahaa dirty!) and help me. Asdfghjkl&lt;b&gt;FUCK&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright I guess I'm gunna go?  Maybe I'll post later if I have time. I have "priorities" to take care of before this &lt;b&gt;myspace&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;facebook&lt;/i&gt;&lt;u&gt;blogging&lt;/u&gt; shit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care faggies, you shall be missed. &lt;br /&gt;Waaaaa creep!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-4484870823845311580?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/4484870823845311580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=4484870823845311580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4484870823845311580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4484870823845311580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/theres-just-something-about-me-and-you.html' title='There&apos;s just something about me and you....'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8862648516783814682</id><published>2009-01-19T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T18:57:31.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I ain't that little girl no more, not no more.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That's for sure ;) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hello lovies, how are we today? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm fantastic! No really I am. In fact I'm more than fantastic, I'm fucking &lt;em&gt;amazing&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I spent the night with Boy last night &amp;amp; I loved every second of it. We cuddled and were cute. There was no stress. No pressure. My god he's got me crazy. I'm falling faster than I thought possible, but I don't want to stop it. Last night helped make it easier for me to trust him. I'm not going to get into details, because its really no ones business but it just proved a lot to me. Maybe this is for real? Maybe this is the what I've been looking for? I don't know, its too soon to tell much of anything I guess. But my god I want him more than anything, he makes me feel so different. I can't stop smiling when I'm with him and I'm just so comfortable with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So know what I found out today? Patrick cheated on me for the last two months of our relationship. &lt;strong&gt;How fucked up is that?&lt;/strong&gt; I know that I shouldn't be really saying anything, but I was faithful. I could have cheated a million and one times while we were together, but I didn't. And I can say that with the utmost honesty. Oh and he said something to me that was exactly what my father said to my mother and it pissed me off so bad. Not to mention he's acting &lt;u&gt;EXACTLY&lt;/u&gt; like fuckhead. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I'm at Caitlyns like always and we're watching the Jonas boys perform and Nick Jonas just indirectly gave me an orgasm. Hi my name is Samantha and I am a Jonasaholic "Hi Samantha." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LOSER.LOSER.LOSER.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I fucking cheated on my diet again! I only do that when I'm at Caitlyns, her house gives me the damn munchies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Alright I'm gunna go talk to Boy (: and then sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;more tomorrow muffins! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;later skaterssss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8862648516783814682?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8862648516783814682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8862648516783814682' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8862648516783814682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8862648516783814682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-aint-that-little-girl-no-more-not-no.html' title='I ain&apos;t that little girl no more, not no more.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-5494247126659172439</id><published>2009-01-18T10:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T10:31:55.319-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He's dirty dancing, dirty dancing on me ;)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;That would probably be incredible if it was to happen hahahaha. &lt;strong&gt;Creep&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;There is something seriously wrong with me, why do people like me? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Last night got better, Caitlyn snapped out of whatever mood she was in and we talked trash about the skanks on Rock of Love Tour Bus &amp;amp; the dickheads on Tool Academy. It was a good night I must say. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Waaaaa I almost died coming home from dance today. Yea my breaks decided they didn't feel like stopping when I asked them too, IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION. I almost was plowed like snow - oooohhh that was dirty &lt;strong&gt;XD&lt;/strong&gt; !&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Again&lt;strong&gt; Creep&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Uhmmm so If you didn't already know Boy is amazing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I leave you breathless and you leave me speechless."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;See told ya. &lt;strong&gt;Ahhhhhmazing&lt;/strong&gt;. To be perfectly honest though when we started talking I figured he'd be just another boy I'd add to the "Oh I &lt;strong&gt;talked&lt;/strong&gt; to him once" list. but now I'm praying he stays far FAR away from going on that list. He says the sweetest things, he says he's all about me. and I know its true, but I just can't let my guard down. Not this time. If he is true to me and what he says he'll get me to trust again. AND I HOPE TO FUCKING JESUS HE DOES. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Fuckhead is calling again. Well not calling since theres no longer a working speaker on my ghettotastic cellular device, more like iming and texting. He wants me back. Shocker! Its a typical fuckhead move, but I'm not giving in. and it feels good to not want to give in. And no, I'm not giving in just because of Boy. With or without him I don't want anything to do with Fuckhead. He doesn't deserve my friendship or even my forgiveness. Oh but he's going to "jail" the 12th and "needs to see me befrore then he "needs to hold me close". Like &lt;strong&gt;what is that&lt;/strong&gt;? He was going to "jail" a year ago and then again eight months ago. BullshitBullshitBullshit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hmmm well that's pretty much it for now, I'm off to lunch with Boy (: yay! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Maybe I'll post after if I don't nap when I get back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Later faggiesss!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-5494247126659172439?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/5494247126659172439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=5494247126659172439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/5494247126659172439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/5494247126659172439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/hes-dirty-dancing-dirty-dancing-on-me.html' title='He&apos;s dirty dancing, dirty dancing on me ;)'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-2654215202007646149</id><published>2009-01-17T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T21:28:39.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>you got the right stuff babyy</title><content type='html'>Heyyy (: told ya I'd post again tonight! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm at Caitlyns right now &amp; I'm slightly annoyed. Its not the same tonight and I don't know why, maybe its me? Hmmm, whatever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to dinner with Biddielovee today (: it was good to hang out with her again, I miss her a lot. We had some incredible times and I miss them so much! We went to the border for dinner I don't really like it that much, but Boy was working and I was just dying to see him! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Boy, he's amazing. I feel incredible when I'm with him and I can never get him out of my mind.  He's so perfect, he's sweet and makes me smile and feel like I'm not just another girl. But I can't trust him, and he didn't do a thing to me. He's incredible though you have no idea. He wants to go to lunch tomorrow and take pictures with me so he can "show off his baby" like wtfffff!?! This kid makes me completely melt ughh ! I don't  want this to be fake, I'm sick of kissing frogs I want my mother fucking prince! And I'm seriously into him, this feeling is amazing and I've never felt like this before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright well now that I completely gushed about MY BOY I'm texting him &amp; going to sleep. Dance at 9AM fucking fabulous! But at least I have lunch to look forward too (: ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later skater!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-2654215202007646149?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/2654215202007646149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=2654215202007646149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2654215202007646149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/2654215202007646149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-got-right-stuff-babyy.html' title='you got the right stuff babyy'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-4143986325130063080</id><published>2009-01-17T07:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T09:08:51.809-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've been looking for that someone, I'll never make it on my own.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hello darlings (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I tried posting when I came home last night, which was like 2, and I ended up passing out. &lt;strong&gt;Ooops&lt;/strong&gt; (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ughh my body hurts in places it definitely &lt;strong&gt;should&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;. Fucking flex class! I love cheering, but I'll breath a little easier when its over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well, last night was amazing! I mean this boy is like twenty different levels of incredible. And I'm not just saying this cause I know he reads it hehehe :) He picked me up at like 9ish with his two friends and we went back to his apartment and just hung out for a little. He was so cute trying to get closer to me while we were sitting on the couch, but he found my ticklish spots &amp;amp; kept touching my Achilles tendon which made me want to cry and slap him all at the same time. Then we all went to the movies to see Mall Cop. It was kind of stupid, not that I was really paying attention because I was too busy trying to remind myself to breath because he kept kissing me and saying cute things to me throughout the whole movie. Its crazy since fuckhead I've had like a bagillion different guys try to be with me, and sure I like the attention, but its never what I want so I just move on. I've never been able to just settle down and take the time to fall in love again. But now I've found something I think is real, and I'm fucking petrified. I've been in this situation before where I've found something I could seriously get used to and its just fallen apart and I've gotten hurt. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fuck my trust issues and fuck the thing with the penis that made me this way!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I want this to work. You want to make me yours? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here take me. Just whatever you do&lt;strong&gt; please&lt;/strong&gt; don't break me. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Because that's one last heartache I just can't take."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Oooooohhhh that was a good one (: ! Sometimes I'm a good writer. Hehehe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I'm doing the dinner thing with Dee tonight. Its been a while since I've seen her, well that's a lie. I actually just saw her for coffee, but before that it was a while. I miss our friendship, I really really do. I just wish things didn't happen the way they did. God I'm a dumb ass a lot. That's a problem I might want to get fixed. But it should be fun tonight, we always have fun when we're together. I've missed my Biddieloveeee&lt;33333!&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I just have to share a funny little quote with you real quick: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Not Pooh and the hunny jar... Pooh IN the hunny jar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Whys the hunny jar fucked?! Its just hunny. Poohs the one who got &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;his head stuck in it like an asshole." - &lt;strong&gt;Brandy Liljeblad&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;That bitch will forever be my favorite! We really need to make that damn quote book. I know we'll always be best friends, its inevitable. Cause we have a plan that I'm gunna go to Merrimack evey weekend so she can find my drunk ass passed outside her dorm room door (: ohhhhhh we're that crazy kind of friendship everyone wants but can't fucking have. &lt;strong&gt;Ever&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well I'm gunna go shower and make myself look socially acceptable, because I kinda want to see boy before I go to my game. I'll probably post later since I'm a blog addict again! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Later skaters!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-4143986325130063080?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/4143986325130063080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=4143986325130063080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4143986325130063080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4143986325130063080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/ive-been-looking-for-that-someone-ill.html' title='I&apos;ve been looking for that someone, I&apos;ll never make it on my own.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-4588189448436300803</id><published>2009-01-16T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T13:48:30.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, all over again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;don't make me change my mind.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at this, two blog posts in one day. &lt;b&gt;Holy shit.&lt;/b&gt; So I'm sitting in the library with Beebaby, Livi, &amp;amp; Homewreckkaaa. I love them, I really really do. I would be having a horrible time with everything that is going this year if it wasn't for them. It makes me sad that in like four months we'll be done with high school, with no guarantee of us staying as close as we are right now. No more 1st period chats in the coveted "seniors only" chairs in the library while we all "don't eat" our breakfasts of granola or in my case full on bowls of cereal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss my Fine Arts kids too. I mean the &lt;b&gt;original&lt;/b&gt; FAA crew, from sophomore year. We have our final exhibition in April and I'm bound to be an emotional wreck for that one! The truth is, I'm dying to graduate but I'm no where near ready to be an adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Speaking of adults........&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family is falling apart. Not that there is much to lose in the first place but still.... I hate being home. I feel like I'm stuck if I'm there. &lt;em&gt;Don't ask&lt;/em&gt; I'm just so sick and tired of the "civil living" shit. lets sell the house, put some shit in storage and move the fuck on with our lives. I swear their worse than children. Like I went to dinner with Dad last night and he saying something is going on with Mom. Of course something is going on with mom she's a complete bitch! Instead of hating to be around my dad I now hate being around both of them. Ughhh I need college NOW!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well I'm gunna go, I'll post later tonight after I get home (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;God I hope tonight goes the way I plan! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ladaa skaters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-4588189448436300803?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/4588189448436300803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=4588189448436300803' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4588189448436300803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4588189448436300803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/tonight-will-be-night-that-i-will-fall.html' title='Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, all over again.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-960764174907291929</id><published>2009-01-16T05:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T06:12:18.285-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something changed, you were acting so strange.</title><content type='html'>So its Friday and I'm not in the greatest of moods. I'm tired, I feel disgusting, I don't want to be in this gay place and most importantly I have yet to finish my college writing paper. Ughhh &lt;b&gt;fuck me&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in school at exactly 7 o'clock this morning. What. The. Fuck. I can't do this lets stay up till 2AM and wake up at 6 shit anymore. Its getting old &amp; its taking a sever toll on my body. I cheated on my diet last night, like so bad. So now I feel horribly gross about myself I hate feeling like that. Why the fuck do I have to be a girl and why do I have to care so god damn much about my weight. Just my weight. Nothing else bothers me about myself, if I could just lose my nasty little muffin top....... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate Cutie Frosh by the way. He's being a complete ass to me. But that's what I get for messing around with freshmen, &lt;b&gt;dumb whore&lt;/b&gt;. I just wish he wasn't so cute and didn't hypnotize me with that damn smile of his. He reminds me so much of fuckhead the way I can't stay mad at him. ERAHHHH! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm really excited about tonight (: !!!!! I'm going out with someone new (&lt;u&gt;shocker&lt;/u&gt;. Yea I know. But hey, you have to kiss a few frogs before you get to the prince right?) he's older, but fun. We've been texting each other all week and he's way sweet. He's new and different compared to the usual that I surround myself with. Which is good. I &lt;i&gt;need&lt;/i&gt; new and different, &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;a fresh start&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; as Marielle says. Well I'm gunna go curl up on one of the comfy chairs in the library, read my new book Livi gave me &amp; hopefully get out of this nasty bitch mood i'm in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ladaaa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-960764174907291929?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/960764174907291929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=960764174907291929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/960764174907291929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/960764174907291929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/something-changed-you-were-acting-so.html' title='Something changed, you were acting so strange.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8479058310253470668</id><published>2009-01-14T20:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T20:52:37.001-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost &amp; insecure. You found me, you found me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hello there (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Been a while no? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So in the time since my last post I've come to terms with the fact that I am a complete and total &lt;em&gt;train wreck,&lt;/em&gt; but I'm so good at hiding it. I should get an award for the act i put on everyday. Its quite amusing, I've made it kind of like a game, where I earn points for every naive person I fool with my adorably fake smile. Although the points don't get me a prize, its still fun to watch them add up (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wow I need some serious help. Erraaahhhhhh! I feel like Amanda from The Holiday where she haden't cried since her dad walked out when she was sixteen. I haven't cried in almost two months, and I try I really really try, but nothing comes out. And sometimes all I want to do is cry and I can't and I get fustrated and throw or hit something (or someone if their not careful)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I want to fall in love again, &lt;strong&gt;so bad&lt;/strong&gt;. But I want it to be for the &lt;em&gt;right &lt;/em&gt;reasons. Not to just get over fuckhead, which I am finally. Took almost a year, but I did it. I have no trust though, for anyone and that sucks. I guess I need to trust and be happy with myself before I'm that way with anyone else right? &lt;strong&gt;Fucking cheeseball. &lt;/strong&gt;I'm going home early this weekend! YAYAY! I'm gracing the Falzone/Mitchell family with my presence tomorrow instead of my usual friday night stays. I just can't be in this house anymore, its becoming ridiculous. I literally feel neglected by both my parents, yea I'm seventeen but sometimes I just need someone......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Oh well. Hopefully things will get better in time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm going to sleepers though, maybe you'll get an update tomorrow? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hahah. Later faggies.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8479058310253470668?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8479058310253470668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8479058310253470668' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8479058310253470668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8479058310253470668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/lost-insecure-you-found-me-you-found-me.html' title='Lost &amp; insecure. You found me, you found me.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8541605497414773444</id><published>2009-01-01T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T14:39:03.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby don't be gentle, I can handle anything.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Why hello there ( : &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Its been a while no? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I just haven't had time to really sit down and write. Nope that's a lie, I'm just avoiding my true feelings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ewwww, I just sounded ridiculous. &lt;em&gt;What else is new&lt;/em&gt;? Anywaysss, alot has changed for me over vacation. I feel like a sudden shift in my personality. Like &lt;strong&gt;the things that use to matter don't and the things that never did now do&lt;/strong&gt;. I've made friendships with people I never thought I'd ever even hold a conversation with and I fell in love with cheering, something I've hated for most of my life. I feel like my life is changing for the better FINALLY. I mean I'm not extremely happy, but I'm not miserable either. Which is great!! Since I'm famously know for being a miserable bitch lately. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well I'm going to go. I'm hanging out with Beebaby tonight. We're going to see Twilight, yet again. 143 chocolate covered rasins &amp;amp; hot men with no shirts. Oh and I'm dying my hair tonight. I'm super nervous! I'm afraid I'll look dumb, but its a new year and I'm kind of a new person so why not add a new look to the mix? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But SHHHHHH! Don't tell mommy ( : lololololololol! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ladaaaa Skaters &lt;3&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8541605497414773444?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8541605497414773444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8541605497414773444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8541605497414773444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8541605497414773444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2009/01/baby-dont-be-gentle-i-can-handle.html' title='Baby don&apos;t be gentle, I can handle anything.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-8551139361325685075</id><published>2008-12-25T22:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T22:41:14.314-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love me without fear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Trust me without wondering. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love me without restrictions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Want me without demand. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Accept me as I am.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Quick quote of the day before I go to bed. More tomorrow, I promise! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;LoveLoveLoveLove, Samanthaaa &lt;3&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-8551139361325685075?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/8551139361325685075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=8551139361325685075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8551139361325685075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/8551139361325685075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/love-me-without-fear.html' title=''/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6041106602071179234</id><published>2008-12-24T12:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T12:16:59.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This one is short &amp; sweet.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ok so I got a phone call last night from faggotfaceee and he seemed a little upset about my blog. I know he didn't read it because when I answered the phone he said "&lt;em&gt;what did you write about me in your blog&lt;/em&gt;?" that means someone else read it and told him what was up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; I refuse to censer myself as to not make someone upset. The things I write here I'd have no problem saying to anyone's face, I can promise you that.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So if you don't like what I have to say on my blog, &lt;strong&gt;DON'T READ IT&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well with that being said, I've got to go. Its Christmas eve and I have to go prepare myself on pretending to be happy. I'm going to the Kidd house as always, and with the way things are I'm sure I'll have more to post about tonight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Happy christmas fuckers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love, Samantha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6041106602071179234?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6041106602071179234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6041106602071179234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6041106602071179234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6041106602071179234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/this-one-is-short-sweet.html' title='This one is short &amp; sweet.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-4837444500068164962</id><published>2008-12-22T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T22:14:12.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things change, and friends leave,</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;amp; Life doesn't stop for anyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Legit.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I haven't been writing too much, I've been kind of avoiding my computer area at all costs. You know spending more time held up in my room or out of the house completely so that I don't have to deal with the outbursts and random spurts of war.&lt;strong&gt; Its not pretty living in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pino&lt;/span&gt; house. &lt;/strong&gt;So Christmas is in two days and I'm sorta a Grinch this year. Me&lt;em&gt; and&lt;/em&gt; my mom. Which is shocking since we start decorating and listing to Christmas music the day after Halloween. I'm so not looking forward to any of our Christmas festivities because their just bound to go array. That's just how things are now a days. Never knowing what you're going to walk into, watching what you say and what you do. You'd be surprised how quite my house is. That is if no one is screaming. There was a snow day the other night and they were fighting like always and they decided it would be a cute idea to relocate the war into MY ROOM. Like what would possess them to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;evereverever&lt;/span&gt; think that was even remotely close to a good idea? &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fucking idiots.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I'm kind of sick of guys. I've figured out that I'm just not in the right place in my life right now to have a guy as more than just a friend. I mean sure their great to look at and even better to kiss and cuddle with but there's too much emotional pain that I have to go through and we all know I have enough of that already, &lt;strong&gt;thank you very much&lt;/strong&gt;. Plus I'm still damaged from shithead fucking with my heart and mind for so long. And that fact that he's still trying to work his magic isn't helping me any. Not to mention its disgustingly disturbing. He deserves what he has and he deserves whatever may come his way in life &lt;strong&gt;good&lt;/strong&gt; or &lt;strong&gt;bad&lt;/strong&gt;. I'm not wishing death or bad things upon him (although I have in the past to his face of course) because its really not fair, life and karma will do a fine job at giving him exactly what he deserves and I'll hopefully be moved on in my life becoming someone great, someone he looks at and gets a severe pain in his heart when he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sees&lt;/span&gt; what he let go, and what he let me go for. But until then I can only push him out of my mind and slowly move on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hmmm, its kinda late no? I should try and get some sleep, I'll probably have more tomorrow since now I can blog on my phone. &lt;em&gt;Sickkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hahahaaa, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ladaaa skankersss.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-4837444500068164962?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/4837444500068164962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=4837444500068164962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4837444500068164962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/4837444500068164962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-change-and-friends-leave.html' title='Things change, and friends leave,'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-3874300462013401645</id><published>2008-12-15T16:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T16:24:15.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where ever I go whatever I do I'm crazy for you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;What it do baby boo? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ahhhh&lt;/span&gt; I need sleepers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I had a pretty good weekend. I kinda don't remember it though, and I was only drunk one night. Fuck my black outs. I really should talk to my doctor about that...... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I slept at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Caitlyn&lt;/span&gt; house Friday night, like I do &lt;em&gt;every&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt; night. I basically live there now. I'll tell you, that family is amazing to me. Who do you know that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;interrupts&lt;/span&gt; cooking thanksgiving dinner, to deal with you having a break down in the middle of the kitchen? Mommy Michelle did that for me, and I can't thank her or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Caitlyn&lt;/span&gt; enough for it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Speaking of breakdowns...... I had yet another one on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;thursday&lt;/span&gt;. In the pouring rain in the middle of the Home Depot parking lot. Patrick &amp;amp; Michael just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;loveddd&lt;/span&gt; that one. Mommy ended up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;coming&lt;/span&gt; to get me and bringing me to Auntie Patty's. I passed out on the couch &amp;amp; woke up to Patrick sitting there rubbing my back. That kid kills me, he really does. He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;devastates&lt;/span&gt; me in the best and worst ways, I just have no idea what to do. Ughhh I need to figure shit out mann.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;But I'm gunna finish my paper &amp;amp; hopefully sleep through the night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Later skater. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-3874300462013401645?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/3874300462013401645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=3874300462013401645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3874300462013401645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/3874300462013401645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/where-ever-i-go-whatever-i-do-im-crazy.html' title='Where ever I go whatever I do I&apos;m crazy for you.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-7929949548813160996</id><published>2008-12-12T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T14:22:41.771-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck the title today ok?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well last night/today was nothing short of eventful, OF COURSE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Can I just say how sick I am of living at home? And that sucks because home has always been my favorite, now I'm begging for something to do and somewhere to be so I won't have to be home. So I don't have to be around &lt;strong&gt;HIM&lt;/strong&gt;. I can't take this, I really can't. I understand money is tight and we can't just pack up and leave they both still have responsibilities, but I can't do this. Living in an unstable home is really starting to take its toll on me, and stupid me is letting it affect my sleep, my school work, my life. But that's just it, it &lt;em&gt;IS &lt;/em&gt;my life. Its like my life is unravelling at the seams, but then it gets stitched back up, just to be torn apart again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Emotional Whiplash&lt;/strong&gt; much? &lt;em&gt;Whatever.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I had a bit of a "scare" today. Won't go into too much detail on that one, but it just makes me think...... I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;TRULY&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;an idiot. I make &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dumbass&lt;/span&gt; decisions and never ever think before I act. Its a sickness, I swear. I really need to get a new like mind? I don't know, I'm a mess. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Anywhoooooooooooooooo&lt;/span&gt;........&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;gunna&lt;/span&gt; go and enjoy my fabulous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt; night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Later skaterrr 8-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-7929949548813160996?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/7929949548813160996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=7929949548813160996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7929949548813160996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/7929949548813160996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/fuck-title-today-ok.html' title='Fuck the title today ok?'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6740229729611239948</id><published>2008-12-11T12:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T12:25:59.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There's beauty in the breakdown.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;That could quite possibly be the truest line from a song &lt;strong&gt;ever&lt;/strong&gt;. I consider myself a "beautiful breakdown" I know that sounds slightly concetied, but its true. My life is an ugly mass of confusion and heartbreak, yet here I am with nothing less than a smile on my face and a laugh caught in my throat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I got my SAT scores back. How's my 1140, &lt;strong&gt;NOT GOOD&lt;/strong&gt;. Ughh I seriously think I might die if i don't get into college. Can't say I"ve been trying my hardest to get in though, that HAS to change after christmas break, since most of the applications are due at the end oh January..... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;But I'm gunna go, Patrick is waiting for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ladaaaaa &lt;3&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6740229729611239948?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6740229729611239948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6740229729611239948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6740229729611239948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6740229729611239948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/theres-beauty-in-breakdown.html' title='There&apos;s beauty in the breakdown.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-9153117117302425099</id><published>2008-12-09T21:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T21:29:44.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its five minutes to midnight, you're comming home with me tonight.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Its late, like really late and I'm still up like always. I hate that I can't sleep anymore. It just makes life that much more unbearable. Its like my body sleeps, but my mind is wide awake inabling me to fall completely asleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wanna know something pathetic?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I've found that I sleep better with someone beside me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What am I four?&lt;/em&gt; Whatever, if it helps me sleep it helps me sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anywayyyyy..... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I couldn't take my house yet again tonight, so I went to Patrick's to get my stupid summary report done. I tell you College writing will be the death of me. uggghhhh fuck. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well i should try getting some sleep, tomorrow is a busy day again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;But I'll try posting K? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ladaaaaa,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Samanthaaaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-9153117117302425099?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/9153117117302425099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=9153117117302425099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/9153117117302425099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/9153117117302425099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-five-minutes-to-midnight-youre.html' title='Its five minutes to midnight, you&apos;re comming home with me tonight.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6441731858241684038.post-6680826361828746884</id><published>2008-12-09T12:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T14:03:44.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not exactly my first post.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;OK so this is like the third blog I've created because I'm constantly forgetting my password. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeaaaaa I'm a mess, &lt;strong&gt;I know&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I actually have had the urge to blog lately. A lot has been happening in my life and I have absolutely no idea how to even begin to deal with it. Theres an incredible amount that has happened, so lets start off with the basics: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is a new boy.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Big surprise there! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;He shall remain nameless, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So we'll call him &lt;strong&gt;NewBoy &lt;/strong&gt;K? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;But seriously, he's not just another boy I'm using to help stifle the jealousy and pain, he's the real deal. And as Brandy says "&lt;em&gt;I like him because he's not &lt;strong&gt;Corey&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;." Which is so true. He's nothing like Corey, in fact he's the exact opposite He's sweet and caring, we have a crazy amount of inside jokes, I'm always laughing and smiling when I'm with him and he NEVER ever puts me down or makes me feel worthless the way Corey once did and still does. The most amazing thing is he forgave me for hurting him in the past, unlike Corey who never let me forget my mistakes, even now. Granted our relation"shit" downfall was both our faults, but he still continues with it. Its like he feeds off knowing I'm miserable and I'm not so much miserable that he has a new girl or whatever I'm more miserable and mad at the fact that he just won't let me be. He won't leave me alone long enough for me to move on and actually be happy. I've destroyed relationships, friendships, and even altered the way people see me for that boy and got nothing but heartache in return. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I saw him last night, and you wanna know the funny thing? We were sitting in his car and when he touched me I didn't feel the way I usually did when I'd see him at times like these. I didn't want to be the one he spends his time with, the one he introduces to his family, the one he dreams about at night and his first thought in the morning. I didn't want to be anything &amp;amp; I don't wanna be anything to him anymore. I am happy for him and his new relationship. No it's not sarcastic bullshit, its the truth. I'm truly happy for him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh. My. God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm over him! I'm actually over him! This isn't a front, this is seriously the truth. And I got over him for me. Not because mommy &amp;amp; daddy wanted me to be over him &amp;amp; not even for &lt;strong&gt;NewBoy. &lt;/strong&gt;I sub consciously did it for me,&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;I realize that I deserve whats best for me in my life, and he just isn't it. Wow talk about an epiphany huh? It feels good to forget I must say. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;That's it for now, more later! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love, Samanthaaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6441731858241684038-6680826361828746884?l=sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/feeds/6680826361828746884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6441731858241684038&amp;postID=6680826361828746884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6680826361828746884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6441731858241684038/posts/default/6680826361828746884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammyfreshtodeath.blogspot.com/2008/12/not-exactly-my-first-post.html' title='Not exactly my first post.'/><author><name>Sammy fresh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15970207153866091105</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
