I can't continue to post here.
I can't continue to look at the triggering posts, and ana/mia posts.

So, this is my final goodbye.

I never said I'd lie and wait forever
If I died, we'd be together
I can't always just forget her
But she could try

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever ever...
Ever...

Get the feeling that you're never
All alone and I remember now
At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies
She dies

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall
If I fall (down)

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna...

Yes, after two weeks without internet, I finally got it back.
Only because my therapist said I can.
And I told my dad I didn't find out about cutting from it.

Ah, yes, the joys of therapy.
I like it, actually.
He was great, haha.
Joking, being clear, and observant.
He analyzed me, whilst I analyzed him.

My cutting has become worse.
I have documented every time I have.
Be it pictures, writings, anything.
It's there, forever.

I have graduated from hiding it on my thighs, to out in the open on my left wrist.
I know everyone sees it, and it makes me feel a few things:
Happy, because I can show them someone "LIKE ME" can cut.
Sad, because they think bad of me.
Numb, because it's there, I can't make it go away.
And more things, of course, none worth explaining.

I like them.
I like the strength I see in them.
Yes, I said "STRENGTH"
Essentially, that's what it is.

Of course there are other ways of dealing with things.
But my choosing to harm my body, for the world to see, shows how I strong I am.
I'd rather have scars than something else.
It's a physical record of my hard times, and my getting better.

Maybe I only think this because I'm biased.
Should I think about it in such a positive way?
But, why should I think about it negatively?
I don't need anymore negativity in my life.

My mother is out of rehab, and officially my hero.
She is so strong, so amazing.
I'm scared she may relapse though, of course.
If she does, she's going to be thrown out of EVERYONE'S life.
So, she can't.
I want to help her stay strong, help her be proud of herself.
I love her.

All my friends are good.
Whatever about them right now.
I'm not concerned with their drama, or lack thereof.

My dad is taking my internet.
Why? He believes it is "a part of my problems".
And the sad part is, it's true.
I know it is.

I read thinspos, triggering posts, and now all this is actually happening to me.
I want to be tested.
To be examined.

I want help, I need help.

Everyone keeps telling me that "I can't go through this alone".
When of course I'm going to do it alone.
I have no one to lean on.
My father hates my mother, my mother is WAS a drug addict, my Grandparents don't know any of the story, and all my friends can only verbally comfort me.
How am I not alone in this?
She's my mother, he's my father.
Not anyone else's.
No one else sits here wondering what my mom is doing, how she's doing.
No one else sits here scared of what my dad might do next, be it yell at me, take something away, drink himself to death, you name it.

Who I am?
I don't know anymore.
Samantha Anne Cooke...who is she?
I have lost myself in my worries of everyone else.
I don't know what I want anymore, who I want, where I want to be/go/see/do, how I want to live my life.
I go second-by-second.
One I may be laughing at something funny a friend may have said; the next, I'm sitting at my desk, slicing up my left thigh.
I am a horrible person.
I lie, I steal, I hide things.
I can't stop.
I don't accept help from anyone.

I am a disgrace.
I am a disgusting child of a disgusting society in a disgusting world.

I'm off to wallow in some more self-pity, thank you.
Text me: (805) 279-2880

I know I haven't updated in a good two weeks, but I've been keeping up with all my friends posts, haha.

I guess we should start with my mom?
She's still in rehab, where I visited (not her, but the place).
And it looks really nice, she can't talk to us though, so yeah.
When I was there, dropping stuff off for her, these two women asked me if I was being checked in!
It was so crazy, hahaha.
Oh well, it was all good.

Uhm, school started last week, and it's alright.
It's school, haha.
I hate the "getting-to-know-" your teacher, your classmates, yourself, blah.
I want everyone to be comfortable with everyone already.
And the homework is fine, when I actually do it, it's SUPER easy, haha.
I don't have any classes with Vinny though /:
Which made both of us sad, awh.

I cut for the first time in over 3 years.
It's on my upper left arm: here
I know it's not that bad, but for not doing it for over 3 years, it's too much.
I did it last Wednesday, so everyone at school saw it the next day /:
And it's still scabing over, so there's really nothing I can do to hide it.
It was a weird feeling, I forgot how hard I had to push to really make a good one.
And it know it looks like I was a pussy, but there are so many scabs now, which isn't that good, haha.

Drama has not stopped with me.
Be it with Michael and other guys (NOT WHAT YOU THINK!), Vinny, Kaylynn, other girls, etc. etc.
It's been pretty bad, and it doesn't look like it's going to be getting any better.

BUT! I have a new bestest friend!
Her name is Caitlin, yes, HER name.
I kid you not.
And she's straight! I scored!
She's amazing, she goes to my school too!
She's the newest addition to my lunch group! Yeeeeah

Well, I must be off.
I need to buy some more bookcovers, and a flash drive.
Lame.

She jumped, she hit, she lived.

What's worse than committing suicide?
Living after the fact.

The dealio schmealio, as I would say.

My parents had a good trip to Pennsylvania, and the like.
And I had an okay time out here with my Grandparents.

( It just keeps getting better )

I read something, a few words, a phrase.
I get the chills.
I get the cold, flash of ice in my bones.

Why did you say those things?
I don't get it.
And now, it's like it never happened.
God, I hate you for that.

I hate you so much.
Too bad I can't even hate you.
Why do I do this to myself?

SCHOOL. NOW.
White v-neck, bright blue shorts, bright blue and white Vans.
New classes, new backpack, new faces.
Fresh everything.
Open mind, willing.
Fuck.

I want Warped Tour, really bad.
Techno music is helping me right now...I need to read.

So, there has been some major changes in, not only my life, but in my mind as well.
I've talked to the people I've needed to.
I've cleared everything up, and it all looks like it's going good.

It's weird not being at my Grandma's.
I feel...like, I'm going to fall into bad habits here.
I'll be alone, not eat, not sleep.

My house always depresses me.
My parents are always faded, drunk, or on something.
I feel like I can't be myself here.

All I can do is sit, sit in the negativity, and wallow.
And getting my period really doesn't help.
Bitching over.

--

I'm going to a wedding Saturday.
I'm excited [:
Even though I got my period today.
Michael and I were worried if I was pregnant, or something, which would be so bad.
But he read that stress, not sleeping, and a lot of factors can make it irregular.
And I've been doing all those bad things, basically.

About a week ago, I was really thinking about drinking.
Like, REALLY bad.
But I didn't.
I was talking to Andrew about it, since it was at like, 3 a.m.
And since he drinks, he told me to go for it.
I didn't want to do it alone, he said he was there for me.
Yeah, all the way in Japan :p
Anywho, I didn't
I didn't carve either.

Anthony Green's new album, Avalon, is really good!
Andrew kept raving about it, so I finally downloaded it, and it's good.
He said he has a man-crush on Anthony, I laughed.
(Andrew is like, über homophobe.)
It's all acoustic, basically, and I don't usually like that.

Meh, I really have nothing else of importance to say.
G'night.

I really need to talk everything out with everyone.
I can't keep holding things back.
I need to start thinking about MYSELF, rather than suppressing what I really feel at the sake of others.

There are so many things that have to ben done.
I keep getting sucked lower, and lower into everything.
I can't get myself out without hurting basically everyone around me.

I'm already hurting everyone.
Vinny, Michael, Amanda, and I'm sure others.
But in those processes, I'm losing myself.
I'm adhering to what THEY all want me to say, what THEY want me to do.
And I can't keep doing that.

I need to do something for me.
But...I can't.
Because, of course, what I REALLY want, I can't even have.
So, I'm stuck here.
To sit, and boil in the filth I created around myself.

And it's not like all this happened over the summer.
No, it's been just piling up until this point.
I wish I had something to do with my life.

Kids have music, instruments, art, creative ways to distract their minds and get out what they need to, in non-destructive ways.
And what do I have?
I can't draw, I can't write poetry, I can't play anything.
I CARVE INTO MY FLESH.

I SIT WITH SHARP OBJECTS AND CREATE LIFE LONG SCARS!
And for what?
The satisfaction of know that I can feel pain?
Knowing I can rip up my own skin, and NO ONE can stop me?
No, I do it because it's a fucking cry for help.

It's my screaming.
It's my way of throwing everything I can't control into your faces.
I promise not to do it, and yet I do.
Why? Because I want to be looked at, looked down upon.
I WANT PTIY.

I want sympathy, and empathy, and comfort.
I want so much, why don't I just fucking ask?
Samantha, you're killing yourself.

You're disgusting.
You disgust your friends, your family, YOURSELF.

Do I really need help?
Or am I just some attention whore 16 year-old girl?
Fuck if I know.

I wonder where I'd be if a lot of things were different.
I mean, I'm sure everyone does, but to this extent?
One small thing could've changed EVERYTHING, you know?
Small, tiny, the most miniscule things get to me.
Why?
Why?
Because they are all I can relay on, all I can hold on to.
All I can cherish.

This summer has corroded me, it has stripped me to my core.
I wish I was a recluse, never leaving my house.
I wish so many things.
I want so many things.
Yet, I never get them.
I'm too pussy to either earn them, ask for them, or get them myself.

That's it basically, I am a huge wimp.
A fucking softy.
My heart is much too big for my mind, and it's getting the better of me.

I take in people too quickly.
I let them crawl into my skull too fast.
And they know when to do it, of course they do.

Everything is changing.
I am changing.
I am hardening, I am becoming closed off.
It doesn't bother me much, but it's started to show to other people.
I'm stopping usual things, I'm taking everything seriously.
I have let myself become...translucent, if you will.

I mean that metaphorically of course, but nonetheless, I am.
My feelings have gone from the backseat, to the drivers in milliseconds.
(Horrid analogy, I know, but humor me.)
They have consumed me, taken the reins, if you will.
And I'm just sitting back, letting my logic doze off in the corner.

I need school, I really do.
I need to keep my brain on logical things, real things, theories, equations, facts, knowledge.
I need Biology, I do, I really do.
I need English, and books, and writing, and just thoughts racing through my head.
I need that drama, and the feeling of school becoming more a chore than choice.
I need the routine, getting out for 6 hours a day, never knowing if I'm coming home after school, but always do.
I just need everything about it.
I can't fucking wait.
22 more days.

Oh, and I'm going to Warped Tour, which is always going to be good for me.
17 August, with Michael and Alex.
Only 12 days for that.

Life is a fucking bitch.
Too much pain, jealousy, issues, feelings.
I want my period.
I need it.
Come on body, please.

I must be off.
Spilling the beans shan't be good.