tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45412135417882585732024-03-05T07:53:32.466-08:00scribbleswriting is not easy, but this is not writing => scribblings more like it...
enjoy my blog!!!tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-57345574307180123792010-10-23T07:48:00.000-07:002010-10-23T07:48:50.400-07:00am i really over you?<b><b>am i really over you?</b><br />
im asking myself that this very minute.<br />
im also telling myself that i am,<br />
but why can't i be happy?<br />
<br />
am i really over you?<br />
if i am then why can't i get you out of my head?<br />
why can't i stop thinking about you.<br />
why am i still affected.<br />
<br />
am i really over you?<br />
i wish i was.<br />
i hope i will.<br />
because for now, i think i'm still in love with you.<br />
<br />
<i></i></b>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-48226393107004906442010-02-05T07:44:00.001-08:002010-02-05T07:44:40.677-08:00<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 36pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">A Brother In You<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 24pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">I found you when I least expected.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 24pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">I found you when I was so down.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 24pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">You made me smile and placed that warm feeling deep with in my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 24pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">You are someone that can understand me even if I don’t speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 24pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">I feel so grateful that I met you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 24pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">I feel so blessed God gave me you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 24pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">I now have boundless joy to have found a brother in you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-9880590378714124782010-02-05T07:36:00.001-08:002010-02-05T07:36:13.516-08:00<div style="text-align: left;">Dear Grampa</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was a Friday and it was not that hot in the month of February. Things were in their usual slow pace as I got down from the cab and looked out and saw that wonderful smile. We have been friends for so long that I have come to a point where I have memorized your every mood, expression even the creases in your face when you smile.</div><div style="text-align: left;">When I was at an arms length you reached out and gave me one of you famous great big bear hug. Just like our favorite restaurant, you always know how I like it, cozy and warm. It felt so nice to stay in your arms, even just for a while.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Then it was time to let go and as you always do, you kiss me in the temple then ruffle my hair, your very own version of telling me that you missed me. It felt wonderful to be here with you again, to be able to spend a day with you. A day where I could talk all I want and not get interrupted, where in I know I would be heard, a day where I can be myself and not pretend to be somebody for I am with you, my very own Grampa.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You led me to a bench and just then I realized you brought lunch for the two of us. It has been so long since we both have been in this little park. Our very own haven from a world of noise and hurts. It never fails to make me smile when I remember how we used to call this place; “My Grampa’s Place”. I used to pretend that you had this made just for me, your baby.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You may be wondering why I am writing all of this Gramps, but I wanted to tell you that even if it was the last time that you would be able to take me out, the last time for you to be with me on our famous “Grampa’s Place”, it would be the best and I will always think of it for it is the best date any girl could ever have. Being with someone who knows how to love, cherish and care for a scared little girl and help turn her into a woman, a woman of worth.</div><div style="text-align: left;">As you lie there in your bed, don’t let the sickness get you down and please know that you are the most wonderful Man/Friend/Grampa God has ever made.</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-47889014113068172372010-02-05T07:35:00.001-08:002010-02-05T07:35:16.844-08:00<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 28pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">…Do You Remember?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">Thinking back, can you remember one event that has claimed a great part in your memory? It may be happy or it may be painful, are you thinking about it now? Do still feel that rush of emotions like you did back then? Do you remember the weather, the clothes you wore? I do, now let me tell you…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">It was the thirteenth of February, a little past one that after noon. I was wearing a black top and a pair of jeans that day. Quite comfortable though I am wondering why that color, why black since it was sunny that day. As I came in the restaurant you stood up to greet me. That crooked smile really has become a treat lately. It was so nice to see that smile again and again and again…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">Sitting there I was wondering what that important thing you wanted to tell me was. I was so nervous that I was quiet, you did not even notice as you blabbered around; talking about your past, your friends, your experiences, even your hopes. You told me about your brothers, what you had gone through and how close you were. Problems you had and even the smallest things you think about. We finished our orders with you talking all the while and I was just listening, a silent witness to this moment, giving a nod, a polite response once in a while. Do you remember?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">We were long done with the food but you still hadn’t told me about that thing that you said you wanted to tell me. I was afraid of bringing it up, afraid of sounding too eager. So I waited for you to bring it up. Then you asked where I wanted to go, the beach, somewhere quiet. I couldn’t think of anything so I left the decision to you, waited for you to make up your mind. Then suddenly you had a wonderful idea you said and led me out to go someplace; secret.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">It was not that big a surprise since I realized that you were taking me to the park, I was in fact disappointed. As I was heading towards the entrance of the park you pulled me back, said it was not the place to go. That aroused my curiosity, so I followed your lead and we ended at the front door of an old church. I looked at you with puzzled eyes and you just smiled, it’s quieter inside you said. I smiled at that though what I would have wanted was to go up to the bell free.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">We went inside and it was so quiet, it was still a long time before the next mass so we sat at the last bench on the left wing of the church. And just like what happened earlier that day you began to talk about anything and everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">Then all of a sudden there was silence, you were thinking, I could even hear you breath. Abruptly you asked: “Do you want me to tell you now? That thing I wanted to tell you…”. I nodded, sure. And secretly sighed, at last you’re getting to the good part.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">Before I get to that thing I want to tell you what I was thinking, what I thought you would have said; something about the previous night, something about liking me. The fact that just the night before we talked about us and openly admitted that we like each other but you have to tell me something first. I was nervous and I couldn’t even look at you. In short I thought you were going to tell me more about the fact that you like me. But I was dead wrong, or maybe I hoped too much. Just to help, if you have lately acquired amnesia or selective amnesia at that let me remind you of what happened next.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">I can still remember how quiet it was at that time, maybe two or three seconds of total silence. You then took a deep breath, and said;”There’s this girl..”. My heart beat literally stopped, I felt a cold hand grip my heart. I blinked once, twice, tried to absorb what you were saying for you were speaking again. I glanced at you; you were looking ahead and going on with your tale. I looked on and tried to make out what I was feeling at the moment and came up with only one answer; I was numb. Couldn’t feel anything, I was thinking I should slap you but I couldn’t get myself to do it. Instead I just smiled and listened as you told me about her. Absorbing everything till I realized they were about to start a mass and that we have to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">As we stood I couldn’t feel my feet. I just walked, and then I saw the museum, a chance to pour my attention to something else, to not think about what just happened. We stayed there for a while and I was acting as if nothing has caused my nerves this stress and then went on our way home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">That was an event in my life that has been printed in my memory and I will forever remember for in that night I felt my heart literally breaking into pieces. You may wonder why I’d even bother telling you this; I just want you to know that, thanks to you I learned, the hard way.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-26332136155894357452010-02-05T07:33:00.001-08:002010-02-05T07:35:07.519-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i>best paper according to my professor...</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>hahah really..</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>you judge...</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><i>“Twithmath!!”</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> “What is your favorite holiday?” Martha asked her youngest grandchild. “Twithmath!”. The child gleefully replied. It made the old woman smile broadly; she than asked Jill why she loved Christmas. This time the child’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, “becauth you love me gramma”. And with that Martha’s eyes filled with tears.<br />
For most of us Christmas is a time for giving and receiving gifts. Most say it is a time to give, but to give what? Houses, cars, clothes, toys, food or money? Would that always be enough? No, the most remarkable thing that we could give is not a thing at all. It’s the love you give, not holding back, giving wholeheartedly not minding the costs. It’s what you could learn from Martha and Jill. Jill is not just happy for the food, the toys nor the attention but the culmination of Martha’s love for her all year long.<br />
The “something” that drives Martha to do things for her grandchild is not what she could get in return; but the love she has for the child. Unconditional love that never changes, even if Jill is a bad girl at times still Martha loves her just the same.<br />
Like Martha and Jill we could all give that unconditional love to others, it will not be easy but it will be the greatest gift we could give. Just like how Christ died to save us, because of His unconditional love. Who are you then to limit the love you could give?<br />
</i></div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-27110861373803818702010-02-05T07:31:00.001-08:002010-02-05T07:31:41.265-08:00regretRegret<br />
She was walking along the beach, thinking about the past. Quietly reminiscing what had been, thinking about so many things yet longing for only that one moment to happen again, to be given the chance to go back in time and take it back; that one thing that has caused her all this pain.<br />
It was dark but the moon was lighting her night like a lamp in the darkness; she absently observed the leaves dancing in the wind. Thinking how unfair it was that the leaves were dancing when she was dying inside. She sat on the sand hugging her knees and placing her head bowed between them. She wants to shield her face from the moon; she doesn’t want her to witness her hurting. She was covering her face from the sand; she does not want them to see her moment of weakness. She was fighting, trying to be strong, telling the world that she can make it, to prove that she cannot be broken.<br />
She was trying to hold it in, tried to stop the tears from falling. She wanted to keep it all to herself, wanted nobody else to share her hurt.<br />
Then the tears fell, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She cried silently.<br />
Slowly standing she picked up a small stone and with all her might threw it across the water, wishing that like the stone she could just throw away her pain..<br />
She sat back down not minding the time.<br />
Not thinking what would happen next.<br />
She just sat there,<br />
Waiting…<br />
And she waited…<br />
For that one thing to wake her up…<br />
For that one thing to save her…tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-60124898073494794702010-02-05T07:30:00.001-08:002010-02-05T07:30:41.833-08:00he could read her tears<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBRGY%7E1.MAY%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 28pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">He Could Read Her Tears<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 22pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">He saw her smile and it made him feel at ease.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 22pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">He settled back on the on the seat and resumed reading.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 22pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">Today’s one of those rare times, she’s feeling well and with that he couldn’t have asked for more.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 22pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">They were so in tuned with each other that he could understand her every expression, her every gesture.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Giddyup Std"; font-size: 22pt; letter-spacing: 1pt; line-height: 115%;">Best of all he could read her tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-81107842838829212112009-12-26T23:57:00.000-08:002009-12-27T00:00:47.329-08:00your hitting way below the belt miss<b style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></b><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>there are lots of things that piss me off but nothing beats the good old bad publicity.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>there are always people who would not like me but there is this one person who just hates my guts.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>hhmmm i asked myself what im supposed to do to get her off my back and i came up with this answer... " be gone"</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>anything just ticks her off and i could not hold it in anymore. correcting is one thing, judging is another.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>what is the difference between correcting and judging?</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>well when you correct someone you try to instruct that person on the right thing to do.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>when you judge somebody you conclude something about somebody with or without complete evidences.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>judgment when coupled with backbiting and rumor spreading may be quite deadly.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>it results to heartache and grudge.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>it is so difficult to stop yourself from holding a grudge against somebody but how could you not do it when she is killing your social life bit by bit.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>saying horrible things about you, pretending to self righteous when in the end if you get to the bottom of the issue, it's all about the insecurity the fear of being left alone.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>how then, after understanding all this, can you begin to hate this person when all that arises is pity.</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>sorry for her crude thinking</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>sorry for her insecurity</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>sorry for her narrow mindedness</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>sorry for her selfishness</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>but lastly i feel so sorry for myself that i could not even defend myself</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>i could not even fight her back</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>how then do i save myself?</b><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>how will i deal with this situation?</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">how will i begin to forgive when every time i think about all the things that has happened i feel like she is killing me slowly.</b><br />
</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-29435502216256612062009-10-18T21:31:00.000-07:002009-10-21T01:02:25.775-07:00<div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote><i><span style="font-size: large;"></span></i><br />
<div style="color: #ffe599; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">dear friend,</span></i><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">I'm thinking of something to say to you,</span></i><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">but i can't seem to find any word that would describe how i feel.</span></i><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">There are so many things i wanted to tell you but i cant seem to verbalize them. So many things has happened that often times i find myself desperately wanting to tell you my side of the story but i just don't get the chance. i tell myself i don't care, i won't care, whatever..... But then again all those memories come back and it all comes back full circle. Funny, i always say "not anymore" but look at me... Still the same... A lot like the song buses and trains, know that?</span></i><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> i walked under a bus. i got hit by a train. i keep falling in love which is kind of the same. i sunk out at sea, crashed my car, gone insane and it felt so good i wanna do it again.<br />
</span></i><br />
</div></blockquote></div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-80416973587079975232009-10-11T18:39:00.000-07:002009-10-14T19:53:54.596-07:00salt and pepper<div style="background-color: #6aa84f; color: #fff2cc;"><i style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQWEIZ76UbZU2mwtQt-GstrLbMQvojdiddsmIl2u0u2crmTY3-cum6scakROHPs2jN5w2odKRviGUroJMS-jrOuuKkxi7MO1tXyYWEb0GgaA-RQOq6z2yX1OiPy1Fp8cfRi39s0IoHLwU/s1600-h/salt_pep.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQWEIZ76UbZU2mwtQt-GstrLbMQvojdiddsmIl2u0u2crmTY3-cum6scakROHPs2jN5w2odKRviGUroJMS-jrOuuKkxi7MO1tXyYWEb0GgaA-RQOq6z2yX1OiPy1Fp8cfRi39s0IoHLwU/s320/salt_pep.gif" width="320" /></a> </i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>salt and pepper...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>too different but always a perfect match.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>so different that it's better having them together.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>what is with salt and pepper that even if they differ in so many ways we cant seem to find them separated.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>salt and pepper...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>a perfect match.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>salt and pepper...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>can't do without each other.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i>salt and, where are you my dear pepper?...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #6aa84f; clear: both; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i><br />
</div><div style="background-color: #6aa84f; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i><br />
</div><div style="background-color: #6aa84f; color: #fff2cc;"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /><input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /><br />
</div><div id="refHTML" style="background-color: #6aa84f; color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"></div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-56991459860230469742009-10-03T00:43:00.000-07:002009-10-03T00:43:26.748-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpsiHuVXqBBJb0AHjwp1GdMIZ4Q1gUzcoWHof6oKutRW4t_F4lKmknllstWGVSqYX_PNf2kgO0_JNZWlZNj3GFrPRgYlPlTHThSpQSHWYh5mY1YhcRGWdeclNT9vUuax3pDIF97vcZM8b/s1600-h/backwards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpsiHuVXqBBJb0AHjwp1GdMIZ4Q1gUzcoWHof6oKutRW4t_F4lKmknllstWGVSqYX_PNf2kgO0_JNZWlZNj3GFrPRgYlPlTHThSpQSHWYh5mY1YhcRGWdeclNT9vUuax3pDIF97vcZM8b/s400/backwards.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #4c1130; text-align: center;">Sweet!!!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">somehow it feels surreal. </span><br />
</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-82833767414662701832009-10-03T00:30:00.000-07:002009-10-03T00:30:29.441-07:00cutie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCcAhf15Je-owTJVK_cCOpgDCNErBzjYZKtQFnavjmGGyEHIymw0b1tjGgxXJkSaE6mbk0lXm1Hmyxi88rvOFommytwnbbhPl1RaS2VmTtTN7GZQMCDyxs80T-oleq3FOSLDVm5tqwVL_/s1600-h/inlove2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCcAhf15Je-owTJVK_cCOpgDCNErBzjYZKtQFnavjmGGyEHIymw0b1tjGgxXJkSaE6mbk0lXm1Hmyxi88rvOFommytwnbbhPl1RaS2VmTtTN7GZQMCDyxs80T-oleq3FOSLDVm5tqwVL_/s320/inlove2.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">its sooooo cute!!!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">hehehehe thats all...<br />
</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-7063578435486010842009-10-03T00:20:00.000-07:002009-11-24T23:29:46.322-08:00that's shakespeare in love ;><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31T3QiQFg390hSaWNejRbRbzCKGNqlMh4Z-PO2hBznqPIjSotOsx1C6MdsM6G9o5zB-eGwFMBOzkzZhuiVvXBfgXkaM-wdU1GWgYXTTvC18d6pNyX_O-C6SoFIAYpVPRydYh6SMcAW_Vu/s1600-h/inlove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31T3QiQFg390hSaWNejRbRbzCKGNqlMh4Z-PO2hBznqPIjSotOsx1C6MdsM6G9o5zB-eGwFMBOzkzZhuiVvXBfgXkaM-wdU1GWgYXTTvC18d6pNyX_O-C6SoFIAYpVPRydYh6SMcAW_Vu/s400/inlove.jpg" /></a></i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><blockquote><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"He's fought and he's fallen<br />
He's on his knees before he's on his feet<br />
A sinister romantic<br />
Oh, he's about to be and she's about to see<br />
<br />
Teachin' torches to burn bright<br />
She's hanging on the cheek of night<br />
A snowy dove trooping with crows<br />
He never saw true beauty till tonight"</i></span></b><br />
</div></blockquote><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>A few lines from the song SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I have loved this song since the first time i heard it</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>And i can say that every time i hear it i keep falling in love like it was the first time.</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I have wished and dreamed for so long that when i find "him" it would feel like this.</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I would fall in love more every time.</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Like wine that grows sweeter through time.</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Like a cliff withstanding the test of time, wind and water.</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>For us, people who are far from the league of artists such as Shakespeare,</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>How do we fall in love??</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Is it that remarkable?</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Does it seem that the world stops when you realize that you too have fallen in love?</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Do you feel the the beating of you heart? And i mean literally. </i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Is it true that sometimes you feel like your walking on a cloud?</i></span><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>And is it true that you'll only know that you have fallen when it starts to hurt?<br />
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</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-82466088062067579822009-09-13T03:04:00.000-07:002009-09-17T20:56:39.135-07:00She Got Shot<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7Ka7LRZBnKEbZHz4ClYtoMNbYCy2Di1_xF_TYPCyXQPyJrsBX8HZ0EBSLTJ_8DiVWlTp7gDMtrp_EpyErPdzHwWv2BnkDO7HbY1UNKqlaQCzkhKRJjDxJAEEJX41op8h2e4nClulVnAT/s1600-h/KaboomTree.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7Ka7LRZBnKEbZHz4ClYtoMNbYCy2Di1_xF_TYPCyXQPyJrsBX8HZ0EBSLTJ_8DiVWlTp7gDMtrp_EpyErPdzHwWv2BnkDO7HbY1UNKqlaQCzkhKRJjDxJAEEJX41op8h2e4nClulVnAT/s320/KaboomTree.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380900107438508018" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-style:italic;"> She can still see it clearly, it was in the middle of the afternoon, the heat was stifling but she didn't mind because there was a cool breeze kissing her face. She was walking on her way home, a bit weary and tired but she doesn't know why. Maybe because of the heat. As she was walking she was staring at the road, counting pebbles on the ground, got nothing better to do. All of a sudden she had this feeling of something weird but familiar, she looked up and there she saw this oh so familiar face. The face that she keeps looking for every week at church, the face that always seems to pop out of nowhere and just gives that crooked smile that always makes her tummy do somersaults.<br /><br /> She see's him once a week at church, she doesn't even know his name but when their eyes meet they both give that smile, simple and shy but it never fails to complete her day. He has this magnetic affect on her and she couldn't tell why, he's this mysterious guy that intrigues the hell out of her. Unluckily they never got formally introduced.<br /><br /> When she saw him look up she smiled and waved, internally struggling how to talk to him when she doesn't even know his name. She opted for the over friendly approach and asked him what he was doing there (in her school). They had a short conversation about it beside a big tree that she would have gladly leaned on because her knees suddenly turned weak, the kind that strangers would have in an attempt to be comfortable with someone they do not interact with regularly.<br /><br /> After the chat she said goodbye and went on her way. She absently looked at the trees she was passing noting her heart beating loudly against her chest. she hoped he didn't hear. Well actually she secretly hoped he did. She had a couple of stops before heading straight home. She was walking towards the parking lot where her ride would be (a public vehicle) when she saw that face again. Her heart skipped a beat. She tried to smile and as she sat down beside him she was awfully aware of every sensation she felt when her arm touched his accidentally. He was friendly and talked to her, she tried her best to keep up with the conversation but she couldn't concentrate. when she thought he asked something and she didn't hear it clearly she just gave him that dumb smile that could be an excuse for anything.<br /><br /> Then it was her stop, it was all so fast. As she was stepping out of the vehicle her mind seemed stuck. All she could see was his crooked smile and for the first time she realized she was shot through the heart. </span><span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-25867060472370869032009-08-27T22:04:00.000-07:002009-09-01T18:41:52.666-07:00<span style="font-style:italic;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVubsP_8vUf1kJfZWOzE5Rg2w1eE77dI0n7BbL4J6KCMtzLsGCOrWJyEsvCncyASWKznfuTTdtR0Lh1LWVeQ-TJzGiXMSn8FeN6J0gQAmx5r7bRwHbY25tqRUoUo4_UIcYs71OOBBCQiE/s1600-h/6341077-lg.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVubsP_8vUf1kJfZWOzE5Rg2w1eE77dI0n7BbL4J6KCMtzLsGCOrWJyEsvCncyASWKznfuTTdtR0Lh1LWVeQ-TJzGiXMSn8FeN6J0gQAmx5r7bRwHbY25tqRUoUo4_UIcYs71OOBBCQiE/s320/6341077-lg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374878083552636306" /></a><br />she was walking along the beach, thinking of the past.<br />quietly reminiscing what had been...<br />thinking about so many things yet longing only for that one moment to be given to her again. to be given the chance to go back in time and take it all back.<br /><br />she sat down on the sand hugging her knees and placing her head bowed between them.<br />she wants to shield her face from the sea, she doesn't want her to see that she's hurt. she's covering her face from the sand, she does not want them to witness her moment of weakness. she's trying to be strong, to tell the world she can make it, to prove to them that they cannot break her.<br /><br />she tried to hold it in, to stop he tears.<br />she wanted to keep it all to herself, wanted nobody else to share her hurt.<br />she cried silently, she couldn't hold it any more.<br /><br />she took a small stone and with all her might threw it across the water and with all her might wished that, like that stone she could just throw away all her pain.<br /><br />she sat there not minding time,<br />she sat there not thinking what will happen next.<br />she just sat there.<br />waiting..<br />and she waited....<br />for that one thing to wake her up,<br />for that something to save her...<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-44434611590073450692009-08-22T23:16:00.001-07:002009-09-28T23:18:20.461-07:00i loved you once<div style="color: #666666; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i loved you once,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">how i wanted to tell you that...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">how i wanted to look into your eyes and smugly say:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i loved you once.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">funny, no matter how i try i just can't seem to do it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i don't know how to start</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">and even if i do say it,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> am afraid i'd say it in a wrong way.....</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i loved you once</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i told myself</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i loved you once</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i made myself believe</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i loved you once</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">do you believe me?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i loved you once</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">i lied...</span></span><br />
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</div>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-23947758953881735532009-08-21T00:34:00.001-07:002009-08-21T00:49:27.953-07:00wish<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">When i look at you i wanna know what goes on behind that smile, what lays behind those dark beautiful eyes. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">There is a place within you that you keep from everyone, can I see it? There is something you keep from everybody else, would you care to share 'em with me? </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">I wanna know what you think about, what you dream about, what you wish for. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Sounds pretty simple but i know that it would be a lifetime before i get my answers to those questions. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">In life I learned that there are things that are just bound to be out of each. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">When you say that there are things you want so badly that you think is unreachable you are not alone. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">You dream of so many things that you would want to happen in your life and that you think you won't be given the chance to have them but don't you see that i too am dreaming, am wishing for things that is next to impossible. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">So many wishes, prayers and dreams that i wanted to come true but like you, I'm in a place where all i can do is wait and hope.</span>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541213541788258573.post-2343625358040668382009-08-18T00:47:00.000-07:002009-08-27T01:07:06.057-07:00dear stranger<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">Several times a week i spend time at a quiet little coffee shop by myself, reading a book and sipping frappe. I've been doing this for quite some time now. contented in just being alone, submerging myself in a world of make believe, trying to ignore that small voice inside me crying softly " i need something.. "</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">Then one day you came in, looked around and took a seat at a table beside mine. sitting at a chair which is directly in front of me, you are staring at the door with that anxious look in your eyes as if saying " please come after me, I'll be here waiting..."</span>. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">Just seeing that in your eyes made me realize that i too am waiting. Waiting for that something that could fill me. Suddenly I felt hallow, I tried to concentrate on the book I'm reading tried to immerse myself once more in that world of make believe, I tried to divert my attention from you. But the feeling just won't go away, no matter what i do i cant forget that look in your eyes, that longing for something or somebody.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">I began to panic, my walls are crumbling. I don't even know you but im beginning to hate you, you stirred something in me that has been locked way deep inside. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">I started to squirm in my seat, finding a good position that would eliminate you in my direct line of sight. I won't allow someone like you to shatter my solitude, my srene content moment.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">I used to feel secure, contented somehow, happy...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">But now i realize that i was just playing the act. Well I'm a good actress then because i even fooled myself. for so long I have made myself believe, led my self to think that my life is perfect... Till you came along.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">Maybe all our lives are based on carefully built walls, we believe that we are happy and content, that we are complete. Everyday we face life without even noticing that we are alone, seeing lovers kiss, holding hands, hug and not even feel a hint of jealousy... Or do we really?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">In the blink of an eye the bubble bursts, we notice, we feel. Our lives change, our carefully built walls crack and finally crumble.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">After savoring the feeling of feeling again we begin to wonder what caused us to wake up, to emerge from that slumber of being numb. We realize that what started it all was just something so small that when witnessed by others would seem worthless.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">We begin to understand that to feel, to hurt, to wait, to long for someone or something is not being stupid but being brave enough to live. For because of these feelings we know...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">that we are human.</span>tinayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853843361488660966noreply@blogger.com0