<?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-4897121602449534962</id><updated>2011-07-08T05:29:18.068-04:00</updated><category term='media'/><category term='waiting'/><category term='again'/><category term='coward'/><category term='hurt'/><category term='naruto fuzzy brows abby shleep yeah'/><category term='skinny'/><category term='crush'/><category term='etc.'/><category term='xavier'/><category term='bored'/><category term='wow'/><category term='him'/><category term='wtf'/><category term='yesterday'/><category term='fuck you'/><category term='what'/><category term='end of gr.10'/><category term='pushing away'/><category term='yeah'/><category term='daddy'/><category term='very last time jennifer chung'/><category term='present'/><category term='ugh'/><category term='cold'/><category term='chubby'/><category term='perfection'/><category term='sucks'/><category term='happy early birthday'/><category term='don&apos;t forget'/><category term='thinking of you'/><category term='eating disorders'/><category term='coldest winter'/><category term='why'/><category term='whatever.'/><category term='love'/><category term='fall for you'/><category term='fat'/><category term='questions'/><category term='tomorrow'/><title type='text'>just like a stranger.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>58</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-4100713796094912946</id><published>2010-02-24T19:54:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T21:43:18.152-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Really?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i50.tinypic.com/4so16u.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 424px; height: 240px;" src="http://i50.tinypic.com/4so16u.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's funny how the most least expected things tend to happen.. during the the most unexpected times. Everything happened so suddenly, I guess it was just a shock, especially because it's something different. Of course, the best things come by surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It used to be just me and him saying hi to each other in the halls. Then during grade eleven, we started talking on msn out of no where.. oddly I was too shy to add him on msn, but I just felt like I had too. I just told myself I'd only talk to him if he messaged me first, which.. he did. It was completely platonic then, just laughing and making fun of each other, constantly; making jokes and having our own little inside jokes. So we talk on msn and for days he forces to get out what I wanted to my birthday, and he did. So he goes out of his way and buys me a sweater.. (which everything I've done is with that sweater on.). Then he tells me he's going to Florida for two weeks, which made me a little upset.. but I was like, 'Heeey, it's all good. Just two weeks, it'll be over soon then we can chill again after.' But everything just started to fall into place. We began to chill with just us alone, it was fuuuun. Freezing our asses off at a randooo bus stop to go to Square One, then doing nothing when we're there. After, he snuck me into his house when his parents weren't home and we watched Benjamin Button - blanket sharing, relaxing on each other.&lt;br /&gt;"This feels like... a date."&lt;br /&gt;"Heh.. I know eh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hug.. we almost kissed, but we just brushed it off. Then I leave to go home. Then next day, we watched Ice Age together.. I guess I just realized something then. So, I leave again, coming back the next day, expecting to watch Highschool Musical 3, obviously a fail, so we decided to get busy with other things.. no sexual intention, don't worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I really&lt;br /&gt;sldkfmaweifalsdjfanlkjwenalksjdcnlaskjnfaweurhawufaksjdfalkwjehalskjdfnalkwefhasidufhakwlje&lt;br /&gt;fnalkjnwelkjfanksjdcnalwekjfnalweufaskdjfanwlieufnalskjdfnaskjdfanliweufnaksjdfnweanwlekjf want to kiss you."&lt;br /&gt;".. I don't mind. (I really want to too..)"&lt;br /&gt;"I forgot how to kiss.."&lt;br /&gt;"It's not that hard.."&lt;br /&gt;"-hides face in blankets-"&lt;br /&gt;"Michelle.. -pulls her head out and kisses her-"&lt;br /&gt;"EEEEEEEEEEP. Oh. That felt different. Was there anything there ? Did it feel nice ? It felt hallow, didn't it. Where's the emotion ? It was dry. Let's try it again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LMFAO. My heart was racing insanely. I thought my heart was going to explode, so I just spit out whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"-pushes him away- AHH YOU PUT YOUR TONGUE IN MY MOUTH."&lt;br /&gt;"SORRY, I didn't know if you wanted it or not!"&lt;br /&gt;".. I didn't expect it.. but I liked it... it's the first time I had to go on my tippy toes to kiss someone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks of Florida. The most torture ever - if we didn't have our BlackBerrys.. I would've went crazy. I never knew I could miss someone so much..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Everything just became even better from then..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all happened in a blink of eye.. and I'd never want to change it.. ever. I've never been so happy to see someone - someone  who brightens my day with their good morning texts, their hugs, their kisses, their everything. He just brings the best out of me.. and I'd hate to sound corny, but he's the best ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've given this my all.. because I actually see something in this relationship. Something to look forward too.. I can't look too forward into the future, but right now it's going the right way. I know I used to put down the word 'love' a lot. I hated saying it because I thought it had no meaning if it was over used or it was just a word that can manipulate you into anything.. make you naive. Maybe I am naive, but honestly.. I've never felt this way before about someone. I don't think I ever will again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"8 days of January until I had you. I love you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you too.. ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-4100713796094912946?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/4100713796094912946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=4100713796094912946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4100713796094912946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4100713796094912946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2010/02/really.html' title='&quot;Really?&quot;'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i50.tinypic.com/4so16u_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1490390902202031769</id><published>2010-02-01T20:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T20:20:47.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so, this is how it is ?</title><content type='html'>why do you have to pop into my life whenever you want too ? don't i get a say in it too ? i hate it when you scare me like that.. and i honestly have to say, despite me always talking how you were never in my life, i think i'll keep it that way. i don't want to be involved with you - i don't want to get shut out and cut out of your life again like you did to me when i was still in elementary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dad, honestly.. if i ever let you back in, will you let me back in ? i don't want to see you.. because i'm too scared to see you. it's only because i'm scared of being hurt again because i was hurt so much that i'm not willing to let you back in.. and usually i do let those who've hurt me back into my life.. but you're just one of those selected fews that i don't want to see. i know if i said give me time because it's been years since i've seen you it'd be dumb, but i really do need time to think about it all because i actually learned how to not think of you this past year. it's been pain free so far, until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it hurts because i miss you, but at the same time i don't. it hurts because i love you, but at the same time i don't. it hurts because i hate you, but at the same time i don't. it hurts because i want to see you, but at the same time i don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is bothering me so much.. i'm just so screwed up in my head right now. why is everything that's having to do with a dad sticking out like a sore thumb more then usual ? i hate this feeling. i know people will say suck it up and get the fuck over it, well guess what ? fuck you. everyone deals with everything differently and i'm definitely not one to suck it up and get the fuck over it. sorry if i'm soft, but that's just the way i am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dad, will this be the same again ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i doubt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1490390902202031769?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1490390902202031769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1490390902202031769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1490390902202031769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1490390902202031769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2010/02/so-this-is-how-it-is.html' title='so, this is how it is ?'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7759006275676865171</id><published>2010-01-06T01:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T01:43:37.368-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yuck</title><content type='html'>I feel terrible... my stomach is upside and going on roller coaster rides and I feel so weak and dizzy. I haven't had a stomach flu in awhile... or stomach virus... or food poisoning, or whatever the hell this is. This is a totally random and pointless blog but oh well. Hopefully I get better but my stomach is in paaainnn for some reason, I don't even know why.. and more nausea uggh. I miss school, oddly LOL. But ohwell, goodnight, time to catch up on homework and restore all my rest tomorrow and hopefully get better.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7759006275676865171?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7759006275676865171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7759006275676865171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7759006275676865171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7759006275676865171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2010/01/yuck.html' title='Yuck'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-5103971890466325091</id><published>2009-12-31T09:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T10:30:22.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs10/i/2006/097/f/9/blocks_by_jenniferdavis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 344px; height: 229px;" src="http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs10/i/2006/097/f/9/blocks_by_jenniferdavis.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's amazing how something we've worked on and built so strong can collapse within a second or two. No matter how long it's been up, it can slowly fall apart into nothing, and for what? So they can replace it, or it's in the way of something, or ridiculous reasons, or nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just amazing how something can &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;easily&lt;/span&gt; fall apart, while building it is the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hardest&lt;/span&gt; part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-5103971890466325091?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/5103971890466325091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=5103971890466325091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5103971890466325091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5103971890466325091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/12/nothing.html' title='Nothing'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-213680147129981357</id><published>2009-12-29T20:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T20:50:34.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>?</title><content type='html'>It's a little confusing, but I gotta say it's different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't jump to conclusions.. please. That's all I ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-213680147129981357?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/213680147129981357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=213680147129981357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/213680147129981357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/213680147129981357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title='?'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-378351679589946322</id><published>2009-12-06T23:19:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T23:56:11.354-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired of this..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs45/i/2009/092/a/1/Sick_And__Tired__by_CarmenLKY.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 368px;" src="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs45/i/2009/092/a/1/Sick_And__Tired__by_CarmenLKY.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Despite the contentment and the smiles (recently), there's always that one thing(s) that nags me at the back of my head constantly. Due to the cliché matter of it, I'd rather not disclose the situation, but what's the sense of blogging if it makes no sense? Really, who gives a fuck what others think. The truth is the truth and if someone happens to be bothered by it, well, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of trying to make an effort to get this friendship to work and I know you don't give two shits. You don't really care about what happened before, but you distance yourself away from me because it makes you a bit uneasy. Seriously though, I'm not asking for your feelings to be returned. I'm not asking for you to be my boyfriend. I'm not asking for anything more then a friendship. I'm asking for you to be a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;friend.&lt;/span&gt; Is that so hard? Just because I like you, doesn't mean that all I want is you to like me back. Sure, it would be nice, but the only thing I care about between us is to just repair whatever fucked it up and be friends again. I never even told you, but I know you knew, and I know it just made it weird... later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate having to try and keep a front to show that it doesn't bother me to be around you.. because it does. I hate having mutual friends, especially when they're with you all the time. It bothers me because it just hurts that we drifted from being so close to practically nothing in a blink of an eye. I don't even know why. Honestly, you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;confuse&lt;/span&gt; me. You're someone that's hard to understand when you're upset or when something goes wrong. It's easy to understand who you are when you're happy, but if it's the opposite, it's just incomprehensible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird when you think about it - why do I like him? I ask myself that question all the time. Maybe it's just because I do. It's hard to explain it when you like someone. But I can tell you what I like about him - though, it's not relevant to the blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disregarding the past, I'm not an emotional wreck over this, just a little irritated. I don't know why the little things bother me so much.. because it's only the little things from him that bothers me, usually never anyone else. Maybe it's because I care too much, and the fact that I care too makes me like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be back to normal so I'm not constantly being punched at, at the back of my head. It's really starting to hurt, you know - not that it would matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just a stupid, small matter. I wonder why I wasted a blog on this.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-378351679589946322?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/378351679589946322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=378351679589946322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/378351679589946322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/378351679589946322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/12/tired-of-this.html' title='Tired of this..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1937717880098166709</id><published>2009-11-16T23:34:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T23:45:37.089-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling ♥</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/v53KhfhDM48&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/v53KhfhDM48&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1937717880098166709?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1937717880098166709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1937717880098166709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1937717880098166709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1937717880098166709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/11/falling.html' title='Falling ♥'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7993897637326667718</id><published>2009-11-14T21:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T12:11:46.045-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Dress</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KPai_wIFpmc&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KPai_wIFpmc&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yessssss taeyang. make solo songs more often ♥&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7993897637326667718?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7993897637326667718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7993897637326667718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7993897637326667718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7993897637326667718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/11/wedding-dress.html' title='Wedding Dress'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8428393210914565794</id><published>2009-11-14T20:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T18:07:53.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit happens.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes shit happens, you can't help it. But some things can be prevented or held back.. or screwed with to somehow make it better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A heart is tired, but somehow has the strength to still run.&lt;br /&gt;A kiss from the least expected, but everything still remains the same.&lt;br /&gt;A really good friendship falls apart from the honest truth.&lt;br /&gt;A family is always damaged or hurt, no matter how perfect they look; just some worse than the other.&lt;br /&gt;A painful unrequited love lasts longer than normal, and is worsened by watching them love another.&lt;br /&gt;A form of an alternative relief from pain is to make self-inflicted pain, sadly, to some.&lt;br /&gt;A person shows strength and contentedness on the outside, but is a mess on the inside.&lt;br /&gt;A person that is least expected to be manipulative happens to set someone up for failure for their selfish desires.&lt;br /&gt;A new friend enters someone's life and understands them and knows how to make them laugh.&lt;br /&gt;A story always has a two-faced bitch, no matter what; they never change.&lt;br /&gt;A girl always matures and learns from mistakes, but always makes mistakes to learn from them.&lt;br /&gt;A stupid girl exaggerates for attention, takes people for granted, and never listens.&lt;br /&gt;A boy is focusing on something better than something called 'relationship', or 'love'.&lt;br /&gt;A girl/boy is reading this, wondering what the hell I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Figure it out..&lt;br /&gt;Shit happens, gotta deal with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8428393210914565794?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8428393210914565794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8428393210914565794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8428393210914565794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8428393210914565794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/11/shit-happens.html' title='Shit happens.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1629718750897639414</id><published>2009-11-12T21:46:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T21:59:07.861-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gravity</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A_U6iSAn_fY&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A_U6iSAn_fY&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're everything I think I need here on&lt;br /&gt;The ground.&lt;br /&gt;But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go.&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a gorgeous song. This is basically what I feel right now.. I'm too lazy, or at least, at a loss for words to say in a blog. I'll probably post later, or maybe I'll just post blogs with music showing how I feel.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1629718750897639414?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1629718750897639414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1629718750897639414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1629718750897639414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1629718750897639414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/11/gravity.html' title='Gravity'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-2874336169574929725</id><published>2009-11-09T00:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T00:31:47.244-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Promise ♥</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KbMigCRKCSU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KbMigCRKCSU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Is this really what you needed&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Then I will say goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;All the memories that we've shared&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Will be running in my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll be thinking about you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just thinking about you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't listened to this song in awhile. But, listen to it. It's really nice..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-2874336169574929725?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/2874336169574929725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=2874336169574929725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2874336169574929725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2874336169574929725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/11/promise.html' title='Promise ♥'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-6782277453063267074</id><published>2009-11-01T01:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T01:04:15.631-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know everything, so why can't you just be straight up about it? I'm not asking for anything return, except for your friendship.. again. I just hate the avoidance because it hurts worse then the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-6782277453063267074?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/6782277453063267074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=6782277453063267074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6782277453063267074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6782277453063267074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-know-everything-so-why-cant-you-just.html' title=''/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8781156358375773729</id><published>2009-10-04T11:30:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T11:37:44.848-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Skins ♥</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i40.tinypic.com/n2lpat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 462px; height: 308px;" src="http://i40.tinypic.com/n2lpat.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The new cast is more attractive, LOL. (Season 3)&lt;br /&gt;But, I will always love the original ♥&lt;br /&gt;|&lt;br /&gt;v&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Skoh-lE8sO0/SV2UKTtishI/AAAAAAAAQsk/J3_yiybb_tA/s400/Skins+Cast.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 345px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Skoh-lE8sO0/SV2UKTtishI/AAAAAAAAQsk/J3_yiybb_tA/s400/Skins+Cast.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This cast ^ (minus that random ugly blonde chick in the bottom left corner) = ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8781156358375773729?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8781156358375773729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8781156358375773729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8781156358375773729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8781156358375773729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/10/skins.html' title='Skins ♥'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i40.tinypic.com/n2lpat_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-2992008230870633727</id><published>2009-09-26T01:27:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T02:00:45.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life in a Playlist</title><content type='html'>YOOOOOO, I'm too bored to sleep. But I have too - fucking class tomorrow. (damnit)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, this is my life in a playlist. It's all the phases I went through - it's not ALL of it, but it's what I remember.. too lazy to put everything in there, lmao. Especially everything from when I was still in the 1 digit age range.. too many songs I don't remember. D:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The order:&lt;br /&gt;Present -- Past&lt;br /&gt;Top -- Bottom of the list&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy - and if you've known me that long or you've just known me.. you'll understand the order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;p style="visibility:visible;"&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/swf/mp3/mp3player.swf" height="310" width="270" style="width:270px;height:310px"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/swf/mp3/mp3player.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale" /&gt;&lt;param name="salign" value="TL" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="myid=30529918&amp;path=2009/09/26&amp;mycolor=C6D9E2&amp;mycolor2=FAFAFA&amp;mycolor3=333333&amp;autoplay=false&amp;rand=0&amp;f=4&amp;vol=100&amp;pat=0&amp;grad=false&amp;ow=270&amp;oh=310"/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mixpod.com/playlist/30529918" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-2992008230870633727?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/2992008230870633727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=2992008230870633727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2992008230870633727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2992008230870633727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-in-playlist.html' title='Life in a Playlist'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8406283056398732057</id><published>2009-09-21T07:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T22:23:32.925-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>LOL, blogging from school.. I was dropped off wayyy to early and this is the result of it. I had to come and check to see what I wrote in my blog earlier because it was late and I was tired, so I was scared I might've wrote things I didn't mean. But I'm way too lazy to edit the blog, so yeah. Here I am at school, 7:57AM, chilling until the bell. I like being here early.. despite the fact that I have to wake up earlier just to get here at this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School isn't my favorite thing, neither is the homework, but I do enjoy learning about things I.. well, enjoy. Another thing is, at my school, there are the few people I really enjoy seeing everyday, and some.. not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I go to school, I have this fright that I will bump into you - which, sadly, I do everyday. I don't want too, but we cross the same paths and have a majority of mutual friends. Either I'm picked on about &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; or my friends just chill &lt;em&gt;near&lt;/em&gt; you. Either way, it's a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;lose-lose situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8406283056398732057?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8406283056398732057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8406283056398732057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8406283056398732057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8406283056398732057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/09/ding-dong-schools-on.html' title=''/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7850390689901369195</id><published>2009-09-20T22:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T00:29:26.166-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A bundle of Fuck.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs44/f/2009/148/d/c/dc3ef54992d34064bbaf22a23b621779.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 344px;" src="http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs44/f/2009/148/d/c/dc3ef54992d34064bbaf22a23b621779.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can really tell me how to live my life, how to react, how to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt;, how to look, how to see, and how to be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;. But people can &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;advise&lt;/span&gt; me, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;help&lt;/span&gt; me, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;guide&lt;/span&gt; me; therefore, it's my choice whether to listen or not to your intentions with me. I know when it's my time to stop or start with whatever I need/want because it's my body, mind, and soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm honestly sick and tired of people's judgmental perspectives upon others. I know I can't change someone or how they are, but just some things just really cross the line. Sure, sometimes I can be obscure, complex, irrational, impulsive, naive, idiotic, blind, and whatever at times, but who the fuck cares? I'm only 15, no one ever asked me to be an adult at this age. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sometimes&lt;/span&gt; know how to react appropriately to certain situations, how to be mature, what to listen too and what not to listen too, and I know when it's my time to walk away - it's not up to me entirely, but it's up to my heart, or my 'gut', lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People tell me that a good characteristic that I have is my patience.. because I can really tolerate certain things that other people can't too the point where my breaking point is. Now, some people are literally just testing my patience with their stupidity and immaturity. Although I am extremely patient, my patience does not have a tolerance for fucking bullshit.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Whether or not you're a good person on the inside, what you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; defines &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you &lt;/span&gt;(lol, quote from Batman Begins), or at least shows your true colors. If I could just throw a huge rock at your head so that it gets through that thick-ass skull you have, then I would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Now lastly, never have I ever really blogged about you.. at least, not completely or enough to be read and known. As great of a friend you are, I really don't enjoy the ignorance and lack of communication, but that's just me. I can already tell we drifted because of the huge transition I noticed when I was reading my chat logs and the way we talk in person.. we talked a lot - to the point that I have like 4-5 archives of the convos we used to have and msn constantly saying that we've reached our 'limit' in the chat log space, lol, and you used to take time out of your busy life to sit beside me and talk to me. Now our conversations consists of me saying 'hi' first, a simple 'what's up?' 'what are you doing?' (all from me first) and then a 'bye' and walking away or just you signing off.. Even today, I had a spark of happiness that you messaged me first, but no, someone else just told you too. I guess that 'spark of happiness' just disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like pointing fingers, considering this is partly my fault. I started this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feeling &lt;/span&gt;accidentally - but you just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;contributed&lt;/span&gt; to it.. too much for my liking, to the point my hopes were so high that when they got crushed, my head felt like combusting and I just really did not want to talk to you, no matter how hard that task was. I didn't even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tell you&lt;/span&gt;, but my gut feeling was right and what my friends tell me shows me the truth then some next false hope I don't need.. again. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;From my view&lt;/span&gt;, to be straight-forward, you lead me on. Maybe the comfort level was just too high with us that I took it the wrong way or maybe my shield was just being as weak as a stupid paper bag with Domo's face (lol fail) on it and you ripped it open. It's one thing to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;physically &lt;/span&gt;attracted, but it's another thing to actually have feelings.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I guess we were just on two different pages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You act different when we're alone (at least, you used too) compared to when someone like Jester was there (that probably just revealed everything, lol. whatever, not like I care anymore). Obviously, I was some kind of entertainment in your life, and I'm not hating or anything. I just wish I wasn't lead on, so my mind could be at ease. I'm not saying you're a bad guy, because you're a really great guy, which is a huge reason why I even felt this way in the first place.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will probably be the worse, corniest conclusion to a blog, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;The hugs you gave me felt like the realest, longest, warmest, safest, and softest hugs I've ever had. Either the other people I hugged were too skinny, or just didn't mean the hugs. Especially that time when it was pouring rain when we were at the park, chilling, and running under trees (obviously, we're stupid) to be shielded from the rain, but that didn't really do anything - I hugged you because I was cold, and you hugging me back just felt like something was there(?) (despite the fact that we were soaking wet). Rofl, I can't think of a non-corny word, so yeah. Let's just say I take things in differently then you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I hate seeing you everyday because the more I try to avoid you, the more I see you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Most ranted blog ever, and stupidest. I sound so hypocritical, lmao. I might delete this or edit the shit out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, laterzzzzz, supposed to be sleeping early.. that didn't really happen, lol. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: "YOU ROCK - don't ever change." Yeah, thanks for writing that in my yearbook, lmao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/M&amp;amp;LGRO%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7850390689901369195?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7850390689901369195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7850390689901369195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7850390689901369195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7850390689901369195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/09/bundle-of-fuck.html' title='A bundle of Fuck.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1859417091065625296</id><published>2009-09-09T19:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T20:02:49.369-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's just too short..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc08.deviantart.com/fs22/i/2008/023/e/8/Cancer_by_Silent_Tomrrow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 423px; height: 282px;" src="http://fc08.deviantart.com/fs22/i/2008/023/e/8/Cancer_by_Silent_Tomrrow.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; says : can't live too long. only got 6 months.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is life so unfair? It's something no one can exactly give the answer because it's just a really difficult question. It just happens. But really.. no one deserves such a short-lived life. This girl - she's just so young, it's so saddening.. and I remember meeting her and she was so happy and kind. Now I hear that she's going to die.. it's depressing. Why did life do this to her? I can say she never deserved this. Hopefully.. she can fight it as long as she can and try to enjoy life. She's my age or at least younger, and she's barely got to experience everything she's wanted before this has happened. It breaks my heart to see this. I wish I could do something but obviously I can't, it's a sickness within the body. I guess all I can do is encourage her and try to keep her hopes up and hopefully she'll enjoy her life a little more so it can possibly increase her time left..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask you why again - why is life too short? Too unfair? Sure, it's something we have to get used to because people die everyday.. but it's just so ridiculous. No one deserves such pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edit (8:01): WOW, SO FAIL. It was a joke. Who the FUCK jokes about death and cancer?!?! That's really.. immature and idiotic. It wasn't her though.. it was her friend. Some kind of friend she is.. -.- Dumb people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="UIIntentionalStory_Header"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1859417091065625296?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1859417091065625296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1859417091065625296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1859417091065625296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1859417091065625296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/09/lifes-just-too-short.html' title='Life&apos;s just too short..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8649454006102956899</id><published>2009-09-05T01:49:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T23:07:15.257-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feelin', and First day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc08.deviantart.com/fs38/f/2008/354/6/8/f_e_e_l_by_aNdikapatRya.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 370px; height: 247px;" src="http://fc08.deviantart.com/fs38/f/2008/354/6/8/f_e_e_l_by_aNdikapatRya.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The hardest thing to do is watch the one you feelin', feel someone else ...&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;^ Truuuuuuuuuuueeeeee say. Hurts pretty bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Edit&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;10:59PM (08/09/09)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides that, today was the first day of school. It was... okay, I guess. Reaaallly crowded, like any other first day of school, it'll balance out eventually. Lots of niners, a lot of small ones too haha, I felt a little taller, but still short as hell -_-. Anyways, my classes were chill, it's a little lonely in math lmfao, oh well, I'll be fine, I might get a higher mark this time cause I can actually concentrate instead of loafting. Media Arts - last period, fucking amazinggg, the beaaaautiful new mac computers, like the ones in apple store ♥ yesssssssssssssssssss. And Janine, Patrick, and Heather being in my class, and Alec too when he comes back. I can't wait 'til he comes back though, I'll be able to maintain my locker at a reasonable neat level and I'll feel less lonely as well :D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird.. first time I've blogged like this haha. I guess it was an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;okay&lt;/span&gt; day, hopefully it gets better, and not worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just that the summer went by waaaaay to fast. Fml. I can't sleep in, but now, I have to go to bed to wake up at 6:30 tomorrow to shower :) bye !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8649454006102956899?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8649454006102956899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8649454006102956899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8649454006102956899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8649454006102956899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/09/feelin-and-first-day.html' title='Feelin&apos;, and First day'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1156372772127518402</id><published>2009-09-04T13:48:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T18:16:49.592-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfection ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I was never &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfect&lt;/span&gt;, nor do I intend to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fuck off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1156372772127518402?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1156372772127518402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1156372772127518402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1156372772127518402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1156372772127518402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/09/perfection.html' title='Perfection ?'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-6891738102425434630</id><published>2009-08-22T19:16:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T02:07:13.650-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you, Mom.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs29/f/2008/069/5/d/mom__s_hands_baby__s_foots_by_theprodiqy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 382px; height: 285px;" src="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs29/f/2008/069/5/d/mom__s_hands_baby__s_foots_by_theprodiqy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last night.. or well, 1-4AM in the morning, I had a really good cry. Trying to sob quietly - well, you wind up almost suffocating yourself, lol. But.. everyone was sleeping, but I still crept into my mom's room and she's a pretty deep sleeper and snores like crazy, haha. I crawled into her bed around 3AM, while my eyes were bloodshot and swollen. I rested my head on her open arm and all of a sudden she wraps an arm around me and puts the blanket on me. ".. why are you crying?" she asks. I hate it when people ask that because.. well you wind up crying even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the first time I've actually really cried like that.. it obviously hurt, but it helped me relieve suppressed emotions. I love my mom so much. She's the only parent I will ever have. I don't want her to disappear from my life either..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Some people never realize what they have until it's gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-6891738102425434630?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/6891738102425434630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=6891738102425434630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6891738102425434630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6891738102425434630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-love-you-mom.html' title='I love you, Mom.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1823310887236244591</id><published>2009-08-20T00:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T14:26:43.782-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you call Ugly?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th02.deviantart.net/fs46/300W/f/2009/176/7/5/The_Ugly_Duckling_by_Alephunky.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 279px;" src="http://th02.deviantart.net/fs46/300W/f/2009/176/7/5/The_Ugly_Duckling_by_Alephunky.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've never felt so ugly until today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1823310887236244591?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1823310887236244591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1823310887236244591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1823310887236244591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1823310887236244591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-do-you-call-ugly.html' title='What do you call Ugly?'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-5419048097315974647</id><published>2009-07-30T13:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T13:35:47.750-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Change is change.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v274/49/43/643976313/n643976313_951272_8246.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 262px;" src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v274/49/43/643976313/n643976313_951272_8246.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Simple pictures like this can make me really smile or laugh - no matter how bad I look in a picture, haha. I miss these times, where everything was in the middle .. where I did understand but I was still naive and shielded. Where everything was simple and not that complicated - even if it was just a year ago. It's amazing how much someone can change in a year, because when you think about it, a year isn't that long. But at the same time, it is. It's 365 days. 24 hours per day. 31 556 926 seconds per year. A lot can happen in one second that can change our life. So all that time.. really shows us how much we can change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now.. probably millions of people are having their lives changed this very second - either for the better, or the worse. Changing is something natural that happens and it's inevitable, no matter how hard we try to keep it from changing, it just happens. We can't fight against it because change is stronger than us.. because it has the strength to change us as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reminiscing with a close friend of mine, Janine, and well .. it really got me thinking about the past and the future. I like it though, but at the same time, I hate the nostalgic feeling when I think of the past. It hurts and I miss it so much because the innocence and the happiness was probably one of the best times I've had in my life. Now that I know more and know how screwed up the world is, I just wish I was back to when I was young, when I thought something as simple as snow was the most amazing thing in the world, and wearing ridiculous snow suits was fun because I could roll in the snow and feel safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't appreciate the snow as much as I did, if anything, I dislike it. It's too cold and it ruins our shoes and our clothes, and the temperature gives us sicknesses. But then again, I do have that small part of me that still loves it. I guess that's still the child in me, happily awaiting for the first snow fall in the winter, despite the cold and sicknesses and flu shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;change&lt;/span&gt;, but not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt;, because there are somethings that just don't change, and never will. Grab a hold of it and keep it in your arms safely and take care of it, don't let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P.S:&lt;/span&gt; "S&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ometimes we have to fight to come to terms with the past&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-5419048097315974647?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/5419048097315974647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=5419048097315974647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5419048097315974647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5419048097315974647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/07/change-is-change.html' title='Change is change.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1915043834751769131</id><published>2009-07-26T17:13:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T01:59:16.345-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate thunderstorms, I hate perfection, and I hate hate.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc06.deviantart.com/fs9/i/2006/033/6/4/Storm_by_liquidimagry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 236px;" src="http://fc06.deviantart.com/fs9/i/2006/033/6/4/Storm_by_liquidimagry.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I thought that I could be optimistic. I thought that NOTHING bad would happen to I told myself that it was all bullshit that bad things happen during rain or thunderstorms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong I guess.. I was happy when I was writing my previous blog but everything just turned around on me. I felt myself breakdown on the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;My closest, dearest, best-friend tried to commit suicide&lt;/span&gt;. It's just so coincidental how it can be on a day with poor weather. She survived, but it's just that she's one of my heroes and without her I'd probably go insane. I love her like a sister, but I can't believe she'd do this to herself... I was told the reason, which I will not publicize, but I'm still speechless for words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I heard about this, I started crying like an idiot. Really - it's unbelievable what people do to get away from what life throws at them. When you give it your &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; and all it throws back at you is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shit&lt;/span&gt;, don't give up. Don't give up because life only throws you shit so you can man it up and grab it with your bare hands and throw it right back at life right in the damn &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;face.&lt;/span&gt; There's so much ahead of someone so young, you can't just end it. Think about it.. life is so precious, a gift from God..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just so shaken up right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's one of the only people I have left that truly understands me.&lt;br /&gt;I still have my friends and family whom &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I LOVE WITH ALL MY HEART&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;but she's the only one who really understands me.&lt;br /&gt;We've been through so much together and no matter what, we'll still be close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't understand how anyone could give up life that easily. She's been through so much but I thought she'd be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stronger&lt;/span&gt;, not more fragile to the point she shattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm guessing people have breaking points..&lt;br /&gt;But I'll be there to help her pick up her shattered pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really have messed up friends, but you know what.. I still love them.&lt;br /&gt;The more they go through, the more they understand and accept others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If people can't accept someone because they just don't like something about them - it just shows how fucking ignorant and closed minded they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shouldn't judge. We shouldn't hate. We shouldn't limit our options. We shouldn't be bringing anyone down because they have a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;flaw&lt;/span&gt;. We shouldn't listen to lies or gossip about others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We should accept others for who they are. We should get to know them before we start judging. We should talk to them directly about any lies or gossip. We should accept their flaws. We should learn to love. We should learn to be open-minded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shouldn't change anyone. They're their own self. That's what makes them unique. That's what makes them human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Screw perfection, screw the media's perspective of a person, screw living up to other people's expectations, screw what others think, and screw whatever is holding you back from what you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erase hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;P.S:&lt;/span&gt; Don't dedicate yourself to love or boys/girls. Don't revolve your life around a boy/girl. Think about yourself and the people who care that are around you. Especially if the boy/girl doesn't treat you well or hurt you. Be strong and take your stand.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1915043834751769131?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1915043834751769131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1915043834751769131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1915043834751769131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1915043834751769131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hate-thunderstorms-i-hate-perfection.html' title='I hate thunderstorms, I hate perfection, and I hate hate.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1909476806048582061</id><published>2009-07-26T11:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T11:38:13.180-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thunderstorm</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs26/f/2008/114/c/a/rain_by_olumdenyoksun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 353px; height: 248px;" src="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs26/f/2008/114/c/a/rain_by_olumdenyoksun.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I LOVE rain, despite the bad things that people think come along after-wards. I used to be one of those people that believed that when it rains, something sad happens. But it was only because the sad things coincidentally happened during the day it rained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thunderstorms on another hand, I have to say.. considering there is one happening right now and I'm hoping it doesn't shut off my power again, haha, but I have to say, they scare the shit out of me.. haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rain by itself is relaxing, the temperature is cool, and if you feel like crying, no can see you cry in the rain.. it just makes me feel better. Even if I do love sunshine, but I hate the extreme temperature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or when I'm feeling down, at least something is crying for me. Haha, just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^I sound so angsty, liking rain and all, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I was going to go out today to see my friend's show, though it seems like the thunderstorm is preventing me to go for certain reasons.. I'm trying not to make it seem like it's tied together, and I won't. No pessimism. I have to stop thinking so negatively :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rain helps me think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, I'm off, I have to go shower :).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1909476806048582061?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1909476806048582061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1909476806048582061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1909476806048582061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1909476806048582061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/07/thunderstorm.html' title='Thunderstorm'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-3812559898625962623</id><published>2009-07-25T11:25:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T11:58:19.128-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Motivation</title><content type='html'>It seems like my writing drive has started again - but the only thing it's missing is&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;inspiration&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether or not I write stories, poems, songs, or just a simple blog with meaningful words, I just can't seem to find the inspiration?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who write - they would understand the feeling of writing with inspiration or motivation to do it. It feels .. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt;, as a simpler term to put it. The feeling is just remarkable when you write or type down your words after being inspired. It's because when you start writing it, you know where you're going with it and the thought and meaning in it actually means something &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to you. &lt;/span&gt;Especially after reading the finished product and it's satisfactory in you Then when you show it to others and they say how great it is or have commentary on it to help you improve and shows you your strong points, it feels good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's usually an inspiration like the typical &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;heartbreak&lt;/span&gt;, but normally those plots to rekindle the feelings to get over the heartbreak, get a little tiring and cliche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just miss writing.&lt;br /&gt;Writer's block is a bitch, especially trying to find the inspiration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-3812559898625962623?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/3812559898625962623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=3812559898625962623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/3812559898625962623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/3812559898625962623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/07/motivation.html' title='Motivation'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1353882748366437761</id><published>2009-07-24T22:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T12:53:17.090-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mannequin</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Katy Perry - Mannequin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I get closer to you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When you keep it all on &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;mute&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How will I know the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;right way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To love you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the queen of figuring out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breaking down a man is no work out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;But I have no clue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How to get through to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I wanna hit you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to see if you &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep knocking on wood&lt;br /&gt;Hoping there's a&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; real &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;boy inside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But you're not a man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're just a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;mannequin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you could feel that my love is real&lt;br /&gt;But you're not a man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;turn you on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Put a battery in and make you talk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even pull a string for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;To say anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with you there is no &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;guarantee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only expired warranty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A bunch of broken parts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't seem to find your heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a fool&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a fool&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a fool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Cause this one's outta my hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't put you back together again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause you're not a man&lt;br /&gt;You're just a Mannequin&lt;br /&gt;I wish you could feel that my love is real&lt;br /&gt;You're just a toy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Could you ever be a real, real boy and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;understand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you're not a man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And understand&lt;br /&gt;That you're not a man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Edit:&lt;/span&gt; Couldn't resist the temptation of blogging about 'boys'. LOL.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1353882748366437761?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1353882748366437761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1353882748366437761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1353882748366437761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1353882748366437761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/07/mannequin.html' title='Mannequin'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-5336874336875305255</id><published>2009-07-18T18:01:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T18:22:32.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss it..</title><content type='html'>I miss blogging everyday - able to vent my feelings out onto a blog/site that I know barely no one creeps on (well my blog anyhow). But clearly, those days are over. I realized that even if I vent out everything on a blog, in reality, it's not really vented. It's just you typing down your thoughts to post to the public. It's not relieving at some points, but sometimes, it is, depending on what you're thinking about. I love to blog - but occasionally. I just never find the right time to blog and when I do, I'm always out of things to say. I used to cry and blab about useless things like boys and their ignorance. Now I should blog about things that actually mean something to me.. I'm not saying that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;having a crush&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feelings&lt;/span&gt; towards someone doesn't mean anything to me, I just find it pointless if you're not going to do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ Even if I don't have the balls to say anything, at least I'll man up and let it pass. Now if it's unavoidable, you have to set yourself to be prepared for the worst and don't blame the other party.. because basically half of the reason why you're sad is because of you, after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, before I make a hypocrite of myself, I will say though, that there is a point where we all have to whine and cry and blab about boys. I'm 15, not 45. So that does give me the right to having feelings and venting out such things into a blog. The conflict between out hearts and our minds will always get us to feel that way. I'm still naive, stupid, and blinded by my teenage hormones, but that doesn't mean I have to let it take over me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contentment is something everyone looks forward to feeling in life. No one looks forward to being depressed or upset or angry or whatever. Nor do they feel it coming. It just happens when something or someone triggers that certain nerve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling depressed and being in depression is something else. Depression takes over your life. I remember my mom telling me she went through depression right before my second oldest brother was born. She had to get medicine prescribed and everything.. the thing is, she didn't tell me why. It lasted for a long while, and when I think about it, I don't want her to go back to it. I don't know what caused it, but I do want to know..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither do I want to fall into a depression. I have to learn how to not be so pessimistic and bring more optimism into my daily life. Negativity gets you no where, positivity brings you up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-5336874336875305255?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/5336874336875305255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=5336874336875305255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5336874336875305255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5336874336875305255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-miss-it.html' title='I miss it..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-3385227703537741631</id><published>2009-06-29T18:53:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T19:24:30.435-04:00</updated><title type='text'>tweet, twitter, bitter.</title><content type='html'>bloggggerr, seems as if twitter has replaced you -&lt;br /&gt;like you replaced my little microsoft word diary, LOL.&lt;br /&gt;but, i still love you. i will write in you more often :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i feel like writing today.&lt;br /&gt;idk, i've been sick for the past few days, feeling better without any help of medicine :D&lt;br /&gt;just tissues, halls, and sleep.. ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sunday&gt; YESS PRIDE PARADE. LOL. it was a chill day, but lmaoo, damn. old men and no underwear.&lt;br /&gt;monday&gt; report card pick up day ! ate pizza, chilled at a park with my friend, got soaked in the rain D:, threw away my poor, soggy, leftover pizza, kept hiding under trees, got a good hug today, still sick though.&lt;br /&gt;now&gt; chillin' like a villian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was reading over my blogs today - i realized a drafted a lot of the serious stuff.&lt;br /&gt;i never realized how depressing and shitty i made my life seem, damn.&lt;br /&gt;oh well, not like that'll happen again. cause i'm doing pretty good now :)&lt;br /&gt;i'm content - not happy to the fullest, not depressed, but just right.&lt;br /&gt;i'm hungry, but that's not really an emotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but yeahh, i have to write more for my story ..&lt;br /&gt;shiat, gotta get out of writer's block.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, go read my friend's, alec's, blog, lmaoo.&lt;br /&gt;go to affliates.&lt;br /&gt;nangaaaaa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm in such a chill mood. it's not normal o_o&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, i'll edit this later.&lt;br /&gt;peaceee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i42.tinypic.com/15mcrns.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 250px;" src="http://i42.tinypic.com/15mcrns.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i42.tinypic.com/ir4x39.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i42.tinypic.com/ir4x39.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;photos by: abigail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;YESSSS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-3385227703537741631?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/3385227703537741631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=3385227703537741631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/3385227703537741631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/3385227703537741631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/06/tweet-twitter-bitter.html' title='tweet, twitter, bitter.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i42.tinypic.com/15mcrns_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-5733284696197039986</id><published>2009-06-15T17:09:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T20:46:17.885-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='end of gr.10'/><title type='text'>last day</title><content type='html'>this was the last official day of school - and it doesn't feel like it is for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;but to be honest, grade 10 has been quite eventful. mood swings, two-faced bitches, self-infliction, stupid boys, firsts, tears, endless laughter, warm smiles, heart ache, new friends, loss of friends.&lt;br /&gt;the thing is - i probably wouldn't trade all that for the world.&lt;br /&gt;there's no room for regrets because all of those events helped us shape us into the person we are today, as much as we didn't want that to happen.&lt;br /&gt;i remember walking in on the first day of grade 10, confused, but content.&lt;br /&gt;and on the last day of grade 10, i remember walking out confused, but content.&lt;br /&gt;coldest memories were made in the coldest winters.&lt;br /&gt;grade 10 has made me look upon everything differently.&lt;br /&gt;i still have my immature moments, but at least i know when i need to act mature.&lt;br /&gt;i'm a little scared to go into grade 11, but i'll adjust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i remember walking in in grade 9, scared shitless.&lt;br /&gt;i'll probably walk out of grade 12, just as scared shitless.&lt;br /&gt;lmao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can't wait to see what grade 11 has in store for me.&lt;br /&gt;grade 9 was full of immature shenanigans and wasted tears, lmfao.&lt;br /&gt;grade 10 brought a different, but filled plate to the table. so many bones to pick through though.&lt;br /&gt;i betcha' grade 11 will be a buffet.&lt;br /&gt;and grade 12 will be a fuckin' feast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll be ready to take that shit down ..&lt;br /&gt;i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a list of what i've accomplished this year [at least to me]:&lt;br /&gt;- moved on from eating a candy i can't fucking swallow, so i put it back in it's wrapper for someone else to suck on. [lmfao, that sounds so dirty]&lt;br /&gt;- fell into the arms of another that i will have to let go soon. it's so hard to hold on when they don't even try or even bother and they're leaving to somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;- gained true friends; lost fake friends.&lt;br /&gt;- above 80% average in academics - for once :D&lt;br /&gt;- learned to appreciate more.&lt;br /&gt;- not say 'sorry' as much.&lt;br /&gt;- think of others more then to think of myself.&lt;br /&gt;- cherish the good moments and stop thinking about the worst.&lt;br /&gt;- found out a career i'd like to pursue.&lt;br /&gt;- broke out of my shell.&lt;br /&gt;- don't judge unless i know them.&lt;br /&gt;- love people for who they are.&lt;br /&gt;- get to know others before i say anything.&lt;br /&gt;- etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what i want to accomplish:&lt;br /&gt;- SPEAK my mind.&lt;br /&gt;- SAY what i need to say.&lt;br /&gt;- get a small part in a commercial/movie/show, lmao. i need to fucking audition for this shit.&lt;br /&gt;- get an agent.&lt;br /&gt;- get a part-time job ( .. at a baby clothing store, lmfao. i don't want fast food .. unless it's baskin robbins (: but i can't be picky )&lt;br /&gt;- concentrate on what i love.&lt;br /&gt;- say my [old] feelings for someone and see what they say. i would've said it a year ago - i was a fucking pussy. curiosity is a contagious bug. i don't really care if he does or not, i moved on, just curious for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;- excel in academics.&lt;br /&gt;- work-out big time.&lt;br /&gt;- enjoy my highschool life.&lt;br /&gt;- love myself before i love others.&lt;br /&gt;- practice guitar.&lt;br /&gt;- believe in something worth believing.&lt;br /&gt;- stop being clumsy.&lt;br /&gt;- walk in a straight line, LOL.&lt;br /&gt;- study for exams, lmfao.&lt;br /&gt;- etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to get at least half of that accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;hopefully, lmao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, peacee.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-5733284696197039986?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/5733284696197039986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=5733284696197039986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5733284696197039986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5733284696197039986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/06/last-day.html' title='last day'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7078653104327185849</id><published>2009-06-07T06:20:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T07:12:42.181-04:00</updated><title type='text'>hello little world</title><content type='html'>no, i'm not homeless, lmao ..&lt;br /&gt;i guess i just haven't been blogging lately because i felt like i whined too much or something, but yeah. and i can't sleep cause i woke up and just .. can't, lol.&lt;br /&gt;a lot of things have happened since my last blog and this is just a list of what's on my mind..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- eviction &gt; was only a threat .. still, a stupid threat i must say.&lt;br /&gt;- i got over &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt;, but idk, i'll tell you about it later. i had a dream today, which .. ugh, idk.&lt;br /&gt;- a stupid someone found a little small space in my heart to cram themselves into it. i wonder how they fit it in anyways.&lt;br /&gt;- father's day is coming up. yup.&lt;br /&gt;- i haven't been to acting class in so long, it's not even funny.&lt;br /&gt;- i haven't been calling someone .. i wish i can, but i will later anyways .. or at least i'll try.&lt;br /&gt;- i'm mentally stressed over exams and fucking math.&lt;br /&gt;- i don't want to go to school tomorrow or today.&lt;br /&gt;- i want to talk to that someone again, but he's obviously not on cause it's .. 6:30 AM on a sunday !&lt;br /&gt;- i learned i haven't got the worse on friday. i knew that - but hearing some things .. made me appreciate what i have even more.&lt;br /&gt;- i miss &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;- lost and gain a few friends.&lt;br /&gt;- ready to toned up this disproportionate body.&lt;br /&gt;- fuck, i have a careers test on monday. i forgot - and i forgot my book. shit.&lt;br /&gt;- mental stress &gt; wtfm8.&lt;br /&gt;- emotional stress &gt; gtfo and die.&lt;br /&gt;- physical stress &gt; none, lmfao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but yeah, onwards to the dream i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've noticed my dreams have some kind of meaning or interpretation of things. but apparently, in my dream, i was going to a convention .. lame [in a dream], but whatever. i was dressed up in some like next cardcaptor sakura shit with a mask and i had my friends behind with me while leaving some building but i didn't get to the exit. i turn around and i see a friend from acting class in a huge ass group of people from my acting school. for some reason i didn't feel ridiculous .. but we still ran to each other and hugged. then i heard her say,' oh &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt;'s here, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt; wants to see you :)." my heart jumped out of my mouth, lmao. but shit, i know it's only been three weeks, but it made it seem like i haven't seen him in like, 3 months. it's like he's grown still though - his hair was longer .. like .. nick jonas long ? idk. it looked so good .. but anyways, he was there and he got up off the chair and walked up to me with that smile i hate seeing because it's what caught me in the first place. he opened his arms and it was like a magnet - i ran right into them and hugged him without a thought, but he picked me up and hugged me even tighter, which, you have no idea, felt so fucking good. but i think i got twirled around a bit .. and i said subconciously 'i missed you soooo much.' normally i don't say that. but his response,' i missed you so much too ..' and i was put down, but the hug still continued. i didn't want to let go. i didn't want to move. but fuck, i woke up. i dreamdictionary'd that shit. it was all right, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curly hair in dreams foretells that someone will try to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;seduce&lt;/span&gt; you.&lt;br /&gt;^ LMFAO, that made me laugh. but no, that was untrue though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frizzy hair symbolizes anxiety about some aspect of your personality. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You may be feeling insecure&lt;/span&gt;, or &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;remembering some old feelings that you had tried to forget&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;^ his hair is frizzy .. but hell, it still looks good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recurring dreams can be highly useful and important to analyze. They happen for one of two reasons:&lt;br /&gt;(1) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;they reflect an unhealthy pattern that you have fallen into in real life, and they are trying to show you that your behaviour is not helping you be happy&lt;/span&gt;. Or,&lt;br /&gt;(2) they represent &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;unresolved feelings&lt;/span&gt;, such as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anger or sadness&lt;/span&gt; over a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;past situation&lt;/span&gt; that you have not healed from.&lt;br /&gt;In many recurring dreams, your sleeping self is trying to solve a problem - or confront an emotion - that you are unable to face in real life. Whatever the subject of your recurring dream is, you can be sure it is reflecting something in your current life situation, even if the dream takes you back in time. Use the Dream Dictionary to analyze the major symbols and events in your dream, to piece together its message. Think carefully about what in your life might be causing you continual stress or worry.&lt;br /&gt;^ true, naaaangaa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running in a dream suggests that you are feeling trapped or pressured in a real life relationship. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It can also mean you feel stressed by school or work&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;^ lmao, true as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you dream that you are wearing a mask, you will have temporary trouble as a result of some misunderstanding.&lt;br /&gt;^ mm .. idk. i'm scared to know what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams of descending a staircase represent the dreamer's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;need to work through an old issue&lt;/span&gt; or situation.&lt;br /&gt;^ i remember going down stairs in the dream .. and bleh, everything is saying the same thing basically. so annoying, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If a person wears a big hat in your dream, someone you know may be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;keeping a secret from you&lt;/span&gt;. If you are wearing the hat, you need more creativity in your life.&lt;br /&gt;^ .. he was wearing a hat, but not a big one, lmao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A hug is a very pleasant dream symbol. It suggests love and tenderness. It is also symbolic of comfort and protection. The only time that this dream symbol has negative connotations is if you were to be hugged by a very negative person or something that you consider "evil." Otherwise, it is a sweet and comforting dream symbol.&lt;br /&gt;^ i guess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hotel dreams suggest the dreamer needs to learn a new way to think about an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;old problem in order to solve it&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;^ lmao, the place reminded me of doubletree .. and doubletree is a hotel.\&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think that's it. lmao, that was lame, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;i haven't have a dream of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; in awhile, just a little worried there.&lt;br /&gt;i don't wanna go to class today, but i paid for it so .. gotta get the money's worth out of this shit ..&lt;br /&gt;i hope the highways still closed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7078653104327185849?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7078653104327185849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7078653104327185849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7078653104327185849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7078653104327185849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/06/hello-little-world.html' title='hello little world'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8511446007091052460</id><published>2009-05-15T21:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T21:27:47.302-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh wow.</title><content type='html'>Well, if I don't post for a few months or more, I'm probably in a shelter.&lt;br /&gt;The supers are saying they're evicting us for flooding, which is obviously false.&lt;br /&gt;Stupid two-faced, ugly fucks, it's their fault for not fixing our apartment before we moved in.&lt;br /&gt;Pretty cool though, a homeless blogger ?&lt;br /&gt;Okay, not really, considering I can't really blog if I'm homeless.&lt;br /&gt;But uhm, yeah, we just moved in, and they're already trying to find ways to ruin our lives.&lt;br /&gt;I watched my mom cry - I was trying to think of quick enough ways to find a place to live.&lt;br /&gt;It took us so long to look for a place to accept us because we have bad credit and no one will take us in. These were the only people that would - and well, they're screwing us over.&lt;br /&gt;If they're going to evict us soon, then we don't really have time to find a decent place.&lt;br /&gt;I'd say they have no mercy or consideration, but it's the business world - though, they're adding personal things into this situation.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, fuck this shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see how things fall out -&lt;br /&gt;Most likely, we'll take this to court, it's a long story, I only mentioned the main reasoning for this but not the extra details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, worse time to have this happen.&lt;br /&gt;Shelters .. well, not my cup of tea, but better then living on a street.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8511446007091052460?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8511446007091052460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8511446007091052460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8511446007091052460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8511446007091052460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/05/oh-wow.html' title='Oh wow.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-6698743465317403070</id><published>2009-05-10T23:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T23:38:14.453-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='very last time jennifer chung'/><title type='text'>Very Last Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;What? What am I supposed &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;to do&lt;/span&gt; with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;Then again you're really not the issue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;It's a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;battle within&lt;/span&gt; myself,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And I don't need your help&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;Why? Why am I getting so &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;confused&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;The feelings gone, I &lt;s&gt;don't&lt;/s&gt; even like you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;Then &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tell me why&lt;/span&gt; is it that sometimes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I can't look you in the eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You did me wrong&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you knew all along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;That you weren't ready&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;But I'm holding steady&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So I hope you hear this song&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;This is&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; my goodbye&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No longer will I try&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;'Cause I'm leaving, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you've hurt me for the very last time&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How&lt;/span&gt;? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How did I even get here&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:130%;" id="slly"  &gt;This is the very place that I feared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In a position where I wonder if you cared for me at all&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;Who? Who was it that made me believe,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;That you and I were supposed to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;Well it doesn't matter, 'cause in the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You did me wrong&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you knew all along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;That you weren't ready&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;But I'm holding steady&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So I hope you hear this song&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;This is my goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;No longer will I try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;'Cause I'm leaving, and you've hurt me for the very last time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:130%;" id="slly"  &gt;When I, I think&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:130%;" id="slly"  &gt;Of all the these questions -- with no answers my heart begins to sink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;Do you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;realize&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;Well, it doesn't matter 'cause I'm &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;living&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;breathing&lt;/span&gt;, &amp;amp; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;feeling&lt;/span&gt; so alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You did me wrong&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you knew all along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;That you weren't ready&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;But I'm holding steady&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So I hope you hear this song&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;This is my goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;No longer will I try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;'Cause I'm leaving and you've hurt me for the very last time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;This is my goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:100%;" id="slly"  &gt;No longer will I try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new,courier,monospace;font-size:130%;" id="slly"  &gt;And you know the reason why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-6698743465317403070?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/6698743465317403070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=6698743465317403070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6698743465317403070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6698743465317403070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/05/very-last-time.html' title='Very Last Time'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7147868538433051963</id><published>2009-04-15T18:37:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T23:02:26.366-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Circle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs7/i/2005/199/6/6/Circle_by_broken_emotion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 191px;" src="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs7/i/2005/199/6/6/Circle_by_broken_emotion.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going in a complete, stupid circle. I just realized awhile ago that I'm going to keep walking this circle until I break out of it.. or someone breaks in and walks it with me. I'm tired of staring at your profile to just see your ignorance and basically nothing. It just causes heartache and an empty soul. I hate chasing pavements in a damn circle. It takes me no where, and I'm alone in this. I know I'll never even get the chance to hug you again, let alone the chance to smile with you, or laugh. I wish it was back to when we first met, when I didn't know your name, when I thought you were ugly, when I only had preference or at least, expected to fall in love with an asian guy at the time. I want to go back to when you complimented me on my stupid blue anchor t-shirt as a first word to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; to go back to when we would laugh at us just laughing at being stupid and slacking off.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; to go back to when I never realized I liked you. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to go back to when I never ran to you for our first hug because I missed you that much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I need to go back when we were friends again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7147868538433051963?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7147868538433051963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7147868538433051963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7147868538433051963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7147868538433051963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/04/circle.html' title='Circle'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1544565847829872488</id><published>2009-04-05T11:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T23:42:12.753-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='daddy'/><title type='text'>Dance with my father..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc02.deviantart.com/fs27/f/2008/164/a/f/Daddy_by_Kleemass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 271px;" src="http://fc02.deviantart.com/fs27/f/2008/164/a/f/Daddy_by_Kleemass.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The only other man that has made me cry the most in the world: My dad.&lt;br /&gt;I just reread through my blogs and I came across one that I made on the month of his birthday and I just started sobbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember during Earth Hour with Abby and Jacinta, we were listening to a cover of 'Dance with my father' and I just started bawling in the middle of the song into a pillow. I didn't even know that was going to happen, I just really listened to the lyrics and I started the tear up. God, I miss him, even if he's hurt me so much by leaving and not even bothering to acknowledge my existence. The song just reminded me of the good times I've had with him and the time when my innocence, happiness, and ice-cream sandwiches seemed like the most amazing things in the world. As much as I used to admit that I hated him, I love him as much as I love my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit, I'm already tearing up. I remember when he first taught me how to ride a bike without the training wheels, holding onto the back of my seat and telling me to start peddling. I told him I was scared and I didn't want him to let go, he promised he wouldn't. But when I started peddling, I thought he was still holding on and I kept peddling and I was doing good, but I turned around and realized he let go and was at a far distance. I fell off my bike and cried, waiting for him to come and help me. He did - but if I were to just realize he was gone now and fell off my 'bike', he wouldn't come and help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could barely remember him holding my hand through a grocery store, pick me up and put me in the little baby seat in front of him and my mom, the over-protectiveness of when I went over to my friends house, whenever I went to the park, he pushed me on the swing so high that I screamed with happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd kill to be with him again when I was a child and cherish every moment with him and my mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1544565847829872488?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1544565847829872488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1544565847829872488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1544565847829872488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1544565847829872488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/04/dance-with-my-father.html' title='Dance with my father..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-3513821646656022670</id><published>2009-04-05T10:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T10:28:01.388-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc19.deviantart.com/fs43/i/2009/060/f/e/ti_amo_by_etoile_lumiere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 193px;" src="http://fc19.deviantart.com/fs43/i/2009/060/f/e/ti_amo_by_etoile_lumiere.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I don't know how to explain what I feel right now.. anger? heartbreak? confusion? hurt?&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like eating right now because I'm so .. ugh. It's indescribable.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like moving from my computer chair; I'd rather stay and hug my knees till I feel better.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think my breathing patterns are normal anymore - I'm having shortness of breath lately and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like going out today or going to my acting class. Anyone who reads this knows why.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to talk to anyone, nor smile today.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like getting a hug, but I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; one.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to smile at you, but it just occurs subconsciously and I can't help it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why everything I do brings me back to you ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-3513821646656022670?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/3513821646656022670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=3513821646656022670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/3513821646656022670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/3513821646656022670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-dont.html' title='I don&apos;t..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8701958190747480818</id><published>2009-04-04T10:42:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T10:55:47.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Torn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th09.deviantart.com/fs41/300W/i/2009/020/4/8/Danbo_Piano_by_pg_images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 225px;" src="http://th09.deviantart.com/fs41/300W/i/2009/020/4/8/Danbo_Piano_by_pg_images.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My heart's torn between two, and it's killing me slowly. God, I can't even think straight anymore, I can't breathe properly in the comfort of my own home, I can't even smile for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; happiness anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; you so much?&lt;br /&gt;The little things, the smiles, the laughter, the warm silence, the stares, the hugs..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; the way you hold me, kiss me, smile at me?&lt;br /&gt;The soft forehead kisses, the interlacing of our fingers, the addictive smell..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know on one end of the stick - it's short; feelings won't be the same, but I'm so persistent that I get hurt in the end &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all the time&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;But on the other end, feelings are returned and I'm always treated warmly and with care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, help me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8701958190747480818?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8701958190747480818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8701958190747480818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8701958190747480818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8701958190747480818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/04/torn.html' title='Torn'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7392514122626745325</id><published>2009-03-30T15:33:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T15:38:29.373-04:00</updated><title type='text'>TWLOHA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc18.deviantart.com/fs39/f/2008/318/d/7/to_write_love_on_her_arms__by_silent_paradise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 342px; height: 208px;" src="http://fc18.deviantart.com/fs39/f/2008/318/d/7/to_write_love_on_her_arms__by_silent_paradise.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Oh, the temptation lures me in like Siren's lustful calls with her beautiful, ringing voice like the sound of a piano when the ivory keys are pushed down ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feelings, the relief, the past trying to come back, the aching for more, the pain wanting to be centered somewhere else other than the heart of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wanting to give into the temptation. It's calling me, slowly luring me into it's trap; addiction; craving; thriving; relief ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Fuck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7392514122626745325?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7392514122626745325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7392514122626745325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7392514122626745325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7392514122626745325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-temptation-lures-me-in-like-sirens.html' title='TWLOHA'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1280519664354683367</id><published>2009-03-26T19:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T19:27:30.892-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc62.deviantart.com/fs41/i/2009/052/a/0/I_Miss_You_by_brambura33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 246px;" src="http://fc62.deviantart.com/fs41/i/2009/052/a/0/I_Miss_You_by_brambura33.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;even if I cried a thousand tears tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span&gt;Would &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; come back to me ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;And even if I walked on the water&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Would you come out to sea ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span&gt;Now I can't spend my life standing by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Cause even when I miss you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;You're still not missing me ..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;It's funny how my heart just won't let it go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I just don't understand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;It's crazy how the pain seems to overflow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;The memories of you here with me by my side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I can't deny that you are the love of my life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ohh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;And I still cry for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;And I would die for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I can't believe all the words I heard you say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;And I still long for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;And I was strong for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I can't believe that you'd throw it all away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Now I can't spend my life standing by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Cause even when I miss you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;You're still not missing me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how emotionally drained I am - I can't even write a damn blog with my own words. All I can use is a song to explain how I feel. I need a good cry... I've cried so much on the inside that's it's drowning me. I need to let it out before I die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1280519664354683367?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1280519664354683367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1280519664354683367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1280519664354683367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1280519664354683367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/missing-me.html' title='Missing Me'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-6256149831875452524</id><published>2009-03-25T22:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T23:17:25.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So sick.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc21.deviantart.com/fs25/f/2008/110/e/7/ti_amo___by_Ariel19.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 214px;" src="http://fc21.deviantart.com/fs25/f/2008/110/e/7/ti_amo___by_Ariel19.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"I'm not hungry anymore."&lt;br /&gt;"Why?"&lt;br /&gt;"..because he fed me with all his bullshit.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Downtown really makes me moody. Today was a mix good/bad day. Sorry if I haven't blogged fully like I usually do, it's just I haven't had the energy to give meaning words lately.. and this just inspired me for the day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't like eating anymore, right now. The most I'll like is water and a bed to cuddle in. I felt like dying in the cold rain around 8 PM, like jumping infront of the cars on the road. Yay for Toronto's wreckless drivers ..&lt;br /&gt;Indigo/Starbucks was my 'bleh' point, but after that, I said to myself, "Screw it, don't waste a good time with your close friends being emotionally broken." I threw a smile on and enjoyed my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the drive home, I watched the downtown city lights. It brought back memories.&lt;br /&gt;I just need a breather right now and a good hug from the right person for the longest time ..&lt;br /&gt;It has to mean something too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;LESSON #1 to self: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Move &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;the fuck&lt;/span&gt; on&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-6256149831875452524?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/6256149831875452524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=6256149831875452524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6256149831875452524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6256149831875452524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-sick.html' title='So sick.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-2070742936520686451</id><published>2009-03-24T22:44:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T23:12:51.769-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc46.deviantart.com/fs18/f/2007/128/d/3/Toronto_by_juli3tt3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 259px;" src="http://fc46.deviantart.com/fs18/f/2007/128/d/3/Toronto_by_juli3tt3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I look at you, you look at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tell me, is there anything there at all ?&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me pretending it exists so I can move on with my life ?&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I want to blow up, sometimes my moods swing constantly but I layer it over with a smile to try and feel better.&lt;br /&gt;Though a smile is really hard to make it real these days - I try my hardest.&lt;br /&gt;Why ?&lt;br /&gt;Because I had you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;once&lt;/span&gt; in my life and I was lucky enough to share those moments.&lt;br /&gt;Now that it's slowly drifting and disappearing, at least I know I meant at least &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; in your life.&lt;br /&gt;Sure, it hurts .. like you're ripping out stitches out of your heart, slowly, stitch per stitch.&lt;br /&gt;But when you think of it, once it's out, there's only that last stage of sting and aching before healing completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc61.deviantart.com/fs39/f/2008/335/9/8/Downtown_Streetlight_by_hesitation.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 285px;" src="http://fc61.deviantart.com/fs39/f/2008/335/9/8/Downtown_Streetlight_by_hesitation.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Dear &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;lovely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know the heartache is excruciating at times and unbearable to the point that everything around you doesn't matter - to the point you don't give a shit about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt;. You may have seemed to have give up - but really, TIME is the key answer to healing, even if you don't feel like it's even started it's process - it has, just very, very gradually. When you think about it - how do you know if anything is going to happen if you don't try ? Gather your courage and determination and do what you wanted for so long. It may be a hard task, but once it's accomplished, everything is out. But, in the back of your mind, I know you're scared of the reply you'll receive. The thing is .. why wonder 'what if' or 'if only', if you can actually do it now before it's too late ? I know you are strong, and situations like these usually try to beat you down so you can get up stronger and more prepared than anything - right now, you're still on the floor, trying to build that strength.. it's understandable. The strength you have - I wish I did at times. The thing is, I don't even follow my own damn advice, lol. But hey.. the advice should be used by someone at least and not be wasted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you need a helping hand, lovely, I'm here to offer my hand out to you, but you're going to have to pull yourself up for the bit of strength you'll gain from it and need for the years to come with worse situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's easy to read your eyes and your gestures when you're upset, or when the feeling has gotten worse. But the least you can do it let it out... if you hold it in - you'll explode and hurt yourself all over again. Please, don't. The pain in us that we get, shouldn't be inflicted upon us physically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when we said we'd rather have last year back then now ? I wish we did, but at the same time, I wish we went back with our minds now, then the people we were back then, or stay in the present and enjoy the experience that's prepping us for the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lovely, please get back up on your feet soon.&lt;br /&gt;I care for your well-being, and I hope for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-2070742936520686451?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/2070742936520686451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=2070742936520686451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2070742936520686451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2070742936520686451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/dear.html' title='Dear ..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-9195262898037598614</id><published>2009-03-23T19:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T21:55:59.818-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I remember.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc18.deviantart.com/fs40/f/2009/041/c/e/ceedf94566e0bc175952961eb80b290c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 367px; height: 245px;" src="http://fc18.deviantart.com/fs40/f/2009/041/c/e/ceedf94566e0bc175952961eb80b290c.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I remember &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when my heart broke&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I remember when I &lt;s&gt;gave up&lt;/s&gt; loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My heart couldn't take no more of you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;sad&lt;/span&gt; and lonely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I remember when I &lt;s&gt;walked out&lt;/s&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I remember when I screamed &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I hated you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But somehow deep inside I'm still loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm sad and lonely&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No one knew all the pain I went through.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;All the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;love &lt;/span&gt;I saved &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;deep in my heart for you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Didn't know where I would go, where I would be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But you made me leave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And plus my heart it just,it kept telling me so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I remember&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Ahh, damn. What a song, man .. what a song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-9195262898037598614?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/9195262898037598614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=9195262898037598614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/9195262898037598614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/9195262898037598614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-remember.html' title='I remember.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-1888038692561052422</id><published>2009-03-20T02:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T02:43:15.782-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naruto fuzzy brows abby shleep yeah'/><title type='text'>Shleepoverr</title><content type='html'>It's 2:40AM, and I am at Abby's house, just loafting until we fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abby: I'm technically asleep.. just itch-- why am I crying?&lt;br /&gt;Me:... o.o&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else to do, just going to go on Facebook before I try to sleep.. so yeahh, this is useless but oh wellllllll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Fuzzy brows.. " - Naruto, LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-1888038692561052422?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/1888038692561052422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=1888038692561052422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1888038692561052422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/1888038692561052422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/shleepoverr.html' title='Shleepoverr'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7158002987967037103</id><published>2009-03-17T23:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T23:06:28.015-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My hopeless dream - I'm trying not to think about you.</title><content type='html'>"If I don't walk away now - or at least try too, I never will."&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7158002987967037103?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7158002987967037103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7158002987967037103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7158002987967037103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7158002987967037103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-hopeless-dream-im-trying-not-to.html' title='My hopeless dream - I&apos;m trying not to think about you.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-4211641299938752378</id><published>2009-03-07T11:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T11:54:14.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fuck my life.&lt;br /&gt;lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-4211641299938752378?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/4211641299938752378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=4211641299938752378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4211641299938752378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4211641299938752378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/fuck-my-life.html' title=''/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-7162604627266581259</id><published>2009-03-02T23:35:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T23:42:50.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th00.deviantart.com/fs38/300W/i/2008/341/e/b/Sorry_but_this_is_my__by_6Artificial6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 190px;" src="http://th00.deviantart.com/fs38/300W/i/2008/341/e/b/Sorry_but_this_is_my__by_6Artificial6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm sorry for the pain I've caused others.. little did I know the consequences of those certain actions can cause.. or impulsive decisions at the certain moment of time. I'm trying not to say sorry lately. But I think I'll try to make Wednesday my last day to say sorry. Then, I'll try to give up saying sorry for the remainder of Lent. Sorry is a word I've abused and used too much, even if every time I say it, I DO mean it, though I don't think people believe it's true. It's like the boy who cried wolf - except the 'sorry' version and I'm actually true.. but in others perspectives', it's not. I guess things happen.. and it happens for a reason. We can't hold it in.. nor can we lock it in.. because it's going to burst eventually.&lt;br /&gt;So if you have anything to say.. don't hold it in.&lt;br /&gt;Let it out. Or it'll kill you on the inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-7162604627266581259?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/7162604627266581259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=7162604627266581259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7162604627266581259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/7162604627266581259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/03/sorry.html' title='Sorry.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-6440566822938549623</id><published>2009-02-07T23:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T23:38:43.470-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yesterday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tomorrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='what'/><title type='text'>Well..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/SY5eHQFueRI/AAAAAAAAACg/dqfXem4lTSY/s1600-h/05.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 270px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/SY5eHQFueRI/AAAAAAAAACg/dqfXem4lTSY/s320/05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300277290132732178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I don't know how tomorrow is going to be.. I wonder though, how I'll feel tomorrow. I always come home with this stupid feeling stuck in my chest - it feels empty or confused or messed up. Waiting for the future and wanting to know what is coming at you is something everyone wants. But I can already predict it and it's bothering me because usually what I predict actually happens - even if they are surprises sometimes. Honestly.. if I didn't have to go anywhere tomorrow, I'd probably just lay in bed all day and ponder about everything in life and trying to put everything in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bright, ecstatic city lights flashed by my dark eyes, my focus upon nothing in particular through the brown window as the green van dashed down the clear high way towards my destination - home. The same feeling overwhelmed my chest as I felt my eyes sting for a moment, but I shook off the feeling. At least the pain is weakening every week. I took that moment and smiled too myself. I'll get through this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-6440566822938549623?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/6440566822938549623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=6440566822938549623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6440566822938549623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6440566822938549623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/02/well.html' title='Well..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/SY5eHQFueRI/AAAAAAAAACg/dqfXem4lTSY/s72-c/05.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8224939735942954955</id><published>2009-02-03T23:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T11:23:35.622-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs18/300W/i/2007/133/4/f/i_miss_you_by_adina_atiyah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 239px;" src="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs18/300W/i/2007/133/4/f/i_miss_you_by_adina_atiyah.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I just realized.. that people who you want out.. walk back into your life AGAIN - at the most content moment. But.. as a friend said in her blog, " I'd rather know you as a friend than to not know you at all." I think I'd be able to get by in life like that. I don't think things will be normal, considering the bipolar patterns I've discovered that you have.. I was just so blinded before not to notice because I only had an image of you that I WANTED to see, but now I see the truth. I like this better because now I know my world can stay in one piece for the time being. Well, the max time I'll give is.. less than a week. But I'm stronger now emotionally, so no one needs to worry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8224939735942954955?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8224939735942954955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8224939735942954955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8224939735942954955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8224939735942954955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/02/why.html' title='Why ?'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-4996075115962287003</id><published>2009-01-29T19:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T20:55:15.009-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='perfection'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='skinny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eating disorders'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='media'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wtf'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fat'/><title type='text'>Thriving..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs23/300W/f/2007/329/1/c/1c08b82f74641424.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 311px;" src="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs23/300W/f/2007/329/1/c/1c08b82f74641424.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The question is... why do we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thrive&lt;/span&gt; for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfection&lt;/span&gt;? When really.. perfection is something impossible to be attainable in this reality. I sometimes find myself wanting to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;look&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; good about myself and the way I look and act. I ponder over things too much to the point that I feel like my head is about to explode. I sometimes find myself wanting to/going to skip meals, eat small portions of food throughout random days, counting calories, constantly looking at nutritional facts, eating one huge meal and not eating the rest of the day, sleeping off the hunger, distracting myself from snacks; this normally is depending on how I feel or what others make me feel. Though, my lack of appetite might also be something that isn't even related to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thinking I'm fat&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder why the media puts so much pressure on girls about how they look and show them a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;certain&lt;/span&gt; way to look. I've never considered myself pretty, but whatever, screw the media's image of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beauty&lt;/span&gt;. But I only worry about my body weight/shape is because of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;health&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;comfort&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what feels good about myself to me&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no need to worry because I won't have an eating disorder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh by the way.. lately, I've been a little.. off. Just saying to let it off my chest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-4996075115962287003?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/4996075115962287003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=4996075115962287003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4996075115962287003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4996075115962287003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/01/thriving.html' title='Thriving..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-6362008950386073361</id><published>2009-01-10T23:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T12:10:26.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You know..</title><content type='html'>You know, when you have something to say to someone, say it to their face completely. Don't say it in another language in their face or act like damn Barbie to me or be immature little shits. I'm not stupid - I understood everything you said. Trying to imply the whole situation about me, making up stupid shit and saying the scenario as if it's someone else - I could read between the lines, and I knew everything you were saying. Don't look down on me because I may seem like an idiot when I'm really not. I may act like one - it doesn't mean I really am one. When it comes to these situations, I don't act or stoop as low as you stupid people.. really, why be so immature about something and act upon it in a way that will makes matters worse ? Exactly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, don't screw with me.&lt;br /&gt;I've had enough of your shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every insult you've said - I know about me already.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm fat.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm emo.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I may &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;act&lt;/span&gt; dumb.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I talk to your boyfriend about my problems because he's my fucking friend that knows what I'm going through and can help me with through. So what if we're close ? I don't want him that way.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I may have secrets.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I seem so mellow on the outside, but I'm not fucking bitches like you stupid people on the inside or am I fake. I'm real - because I suck at lying, so I know I can't fake.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, sure I seem desperate, but I'm not. If you knew my situation, you'd know.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm not low lives like you ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;Get over it - shit happens.&lt;br /&gt;You have to clean it up and throw it out. Not create more right on top.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-6362008950386073361?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/6362008950386073361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=6362008950386073361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6362008950386073361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6362008950386073361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-know.html' title='You know..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-8185499321341275803</id><published>2008-12-30T03:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T03:33:23.652-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coldest winter'/><title type='text'>Memories made in the coldest winter..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs5/300W/i/2006/348/e/e/December__s_Splendor_by_aquapell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 196px;" src="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs5/300W/i/2006/348/e/e/December__s_Splendor_by_aquapell.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wow, what a coincidence. The coldest memories.. are made in the coldest winter times. Beef' is started, people take sides without hearing out the other side, heart's are aching, tears are shedding, families falling apart, memories from the past flowing back in, and wounds trying to heal. When you want to back out of the drama, it just grabs you and forces you back in no matter what you do. The most stupidest decisions are made and no one takes others into consideration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One is suffering, the other is trying to use their suffering as an excuse to bring the other one down. The way people cope these days is something I can never understand...  I can't even understand myself either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People need to learn how to think before they act. Yet, most of us don't. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Some&lt;/span&gt; people I talk too these days can't be trusted. I think I finally trust that person, but they still say crap to others. Even if they don't know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shit&lt;/span&gt;, they still say it. Hitting something that personal which is probably one of my top weaknesses, to put me down, is such a good way to end the year, right? That weakness was one of the reasons for my cutting.. though, why would I tell&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;you that? Because people like you can't be trusted. I feel like I have to limit my trust in friends. It's dropped from a whole table of friends to about 3-4 people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people don't know the truth and just listen to what is spread and actually believe it.. it's okay I guess. But getting involved a whole different story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pheww; what a Christmas Break.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and being called a desperate whore.. lol, thanks..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-8185499321341275803?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/8185499321341275803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=8185499321341275803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8185499321341275803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/8185499321341275803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/12/memories-made-in-coldest-winter.html' title='Memories made in the coldest winter..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-6834055305920823795</id><published>2008-12-20T20:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T03:35:27.399-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So close yet so far ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th00.deviantart.com/fs13/300W/f/2007/003/5/d/Away___From_Me___by_evening_falls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 180px;" src="http://th00.deviantart.com/fs13/300W/f/2007/003/5/d/Away___From_Me___by_evening_falls.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Maybe if you stopped pushing me away .. I'd probably, actually have a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; smile on my face for once. I hate having to look at you and notice that you're always wanting to be away from me, even when I barely do anything .. I just wanted a hug before the Christmas holidays, and I did get one .. but after, you fully grabbed my shoulders after a few seconds of hugging and pushed me back, holding me there for a minute, then giving me a .. weird smile to be nice and telling me you have to go. You don't even look me in the eyes anymore, or even make me feel like one of your friends. I just watch you walk away, leaving me there, hurt. I need to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just remember .. I love you. It won't really go away .. but you'll always hold a safe place in my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-6834055305920823795?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/6834055305920823795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=6834055305920823795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6834055305920823795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/6834055305920823795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-close-yet-so-far.html' title='So close yet so far ..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-4233050454846337255</id><published>2008-12-13T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T20:48:55.031-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='him'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='why'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pushing away'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sucks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Love ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs15/300W/f/2007/053/2/4/Love__by_darkbutterfly6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 201px;" src="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs15/300W/f/2007/053/2/4/Love__by_darkbutterfly6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Love is a strong word .. and it also sucks like hell. I wish I could be with you .. but all you do is push me away, and a little action such as that, hurts me x10 then what you probably meant. I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate the way you tease me sometimes. It pisses me off. I hate being in your arms and having to know that after that hug, I have to leave right after. But you pushed me away today after the hug, and it hurt. No, it didn't hurt physically, just  emotionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just walked out quickly and mentally screamed at myself. I'm probably getting to clingy or too annoying. But I don't know what I'm doing wrong, I'm just showing my affection without having to mention it to you. Maybe the reason you pushed me away was because there was a couple of pretty girls in the group you were talking too. I don't know, I'm probably annoying you. I don't know how to stop, because you make my heart race so fast that it wins the marathon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-4233050454846337255?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/4233050454846337255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=4233050454846337255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4233050454846337255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4233050454846337255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/12/love.html' title='Love ..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-591749916050013494</id><published>2008-12-06T18:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T14:47:39.007-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall for you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking of you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='don&apos;t forget'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Don't Forget</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th07.deviantart.com/fs20/300W/f/2007/267/2/f/_hug__by_MrNudge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 416px;" src="http://th07.deviantart.com/fs20/300W/f/2007/267/2/f/_hug__by_MrNudge.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Unrequited love. It's a hurtful thing. This is both spontaneous and emotive really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I think I'm going to have the balls to say it,&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I love you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; The way you make me feel is so unimaginable. When I'm with you, it hurts to know that you'll never feel the same way, but just being in your arms for longer then a second gives me some hope. I didn't know I would fall for you because when I first met you, I thought you were pretty obnoxious and .. kinda ugly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now it's totally opposite. You make me laugh when I felt like breaking down, you make me smile when I'm hurting for you, you listen attentively and give me direct eye contact, and I can't help but smile a bit when I think of this. A hurtful smile, I'll call it that. My heart is even smiling for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even at school today, and I still think of you. I honestly can't stop thinking of you at any second of everyday, or anxiously waiting for the weekend to come just to see you. I barely do my homework because I'm so occupied with you in my head. I feel so stupid, but this is true. I wish I could be with you, but I know that you don't want to be with me. Sorry if my love for you has become an annoyance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you get famous or disappear off to some place away from where I currently am, don't forget me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I think you will. I'm just a friend, nothing more - even if I wished hard enough, 11:11, on a star, throwing coins into a wishing fountain, and anything else .. nothing would happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-591749916050013494?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/591749916050013494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=591749916050013494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/591749916050013494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/591749916050013494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/12/dont-forget.html' title='Don&apos;t Forget'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-5756054778647591067</id><published>2008-12-03T17:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T19:26:58.196-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='him'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yeah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ugh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='xavier'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coward'/><title type='text'>Coward.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc23.deviantart.com/fs28/f/2008/132/5/0/505a95aaee768aafa5f62612a8d84f9b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 319px;" src="http://fc23.deviantart.com/fs28/f/2008/132/5/0/505a95aaee768aafa5f62612a8d84f9b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hope is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.&lt;br /&gt;1. to hope is to wish for something with the expectation of the wish being fulfilled, a key condition in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;unrequited love&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I curiously looked around for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; at Xavier. Then out of no where, I see him and I turn into a mouse and hid behind my friend. I feel so stupid for being a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;coward&lt;/span&gt;. I should've said HI, but no. I didn't have the balls to do it. If we were alone and it was just us, it would be easier because I wouldn't embarrass him in front of his friends and I wouldn't get embarrassed in front of mine. But he didn't even notice me and I was clearly there the second time he passed. He even turned his head my direction but didn't look .. Am I that unrecognizable to him or am I that insignificant in his little world in his small head? My friend says he seemed obnoxious, but I don't know. Maybe he's different at school, but he's so different around me at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I feel for this boy anymore. I don't want to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; him but yet I have the symptoms of this thing called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love.&lt;/span&gt; I don't want to be naive and fall in too deep, but I think I already am. I'm barely nothing in his world. I'm like the little crumb on his shirt that hasn't been brushed off yet. But I will be soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a coward. A wuss. A...whatever else in the dictionary that there is for that. I should've done something to say hi. The reason I went there was because of him and all I did was stare at him the whole time and just let my chances walk away just like that. I hate waiting, I'm too weak to fight, I'm too fragile to be in the middle. So, what do I do now? Nothing? I don't know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-5756054778647591067?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/5756054778647591067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=5756054778647591067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5756054778647591067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5756054778647591067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/12/coward.html' title='Coward.'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-2695554617106446732</id><published>2008-12-02T18:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T19:05:49.936-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='again'/><title type='text'>11 ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th05.deviantart.com/fs36/300W/f/2008/253/b/7/Never_Give_Up_by_endless_fever.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 158px;" src="http://th05.deviantart.com/fs36/300W/f/2008/253/b/7/Never_Give_Up_by_endless_fever.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I started again, but I don't think I'll stop anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People say, "Never give up .." but I think I have. I've lost hope in a lot of things. I've lost control of my inner conflicts and they just let loose inside on it's own, shooting around inside my head like a rubber bullet, which hurts like a bitch every time it hits a part of me. Hopefully I'll climb out of this endless well somehow; but whenever I look up, that little light of my escape seems to fall further and further away from me. I'm trying to find what I've lost, trying to gain back some of my life to piece together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm so fucking pessimistic, but I don't know how to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; be that.&lt;br /&gt;If I could stop being such a pessimist, I would've done that a long time ago ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-2695554617106446732?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/2695554617106446732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=2695554617106446732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2695554617106446732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2695554617106446732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/12/1-1.html' title='11 ...'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-2265530599551369160</id><published>2008-11-22T18:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T11:13:19.150-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fuck you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whatever.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='daddy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy early birthday'/><title type='text'>Dear Daddy ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th00.deviantart.com/fs6/300W/i/2005/051/9/3/Daddy__s_love_by_fluxuspoem.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 219px;" src="http://th00.deviantart.com/fs6/300W/i/2005/051/9/3/Daddy__s_love_by_fluxuspoem.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="110"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/ZyLqyLruAk/aus=false/"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/ZyLqyLruAk/aus=false/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="110"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/people/SoSlKuf/music/G657wEe-/lindsay_lohan_confessions_of_a_broken_heart_daughter_to_fat/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;confessions of a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wait for the postman to bring me a letter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I wait for the good Lord to make me feel better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;s&gt;A family in crisis that only grows &lt;b&gt;older&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Why'd you have to go? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Daughter to father, daughter to father&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I am broken but I am hoping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I am crying, a part of me is dying and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause These are, these are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The confessions of a broken heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I dream of another you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The one who would never&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Leave me alone to pick up the pieces&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; A daddy to hold me, that's what I needed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So why'd you have to go? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Daughter to father, daughter to father&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I don't know you, but I still want to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Tell me the truth, did you ever love me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause these are, these are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The confessions of a broken heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tell me the truth,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Did you ever love me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so long since I've seen you, to the point that I've forgotten your birthday. All I remember is that it was in.. December. See ? I remember some what of your birthday, but you don't even remember mine and we have a birthday in the same damn month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, tell me the exact reason why you left ? I honestly want to know everything. I already know you've replaced us with your new family; I have like 2 half siblings that you had with your mistress or whore, or whatever the hell she is. I know I have no right to judge your girlfriend, but she's the reason why you don't even contact your own damn CHILDREN.&lt;br /&gt;These are the times when we need you the most, going through the stage before our adulthood..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 years... yes, it's been 7 FUCKING YEARS since we've fully been in contact.&lt;br /&gt;For fuck sakes, you don't even call on our birthdays or Christmas or New Years or ANYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;Even grandpa remembers to call and he's like 84.. that just shows how much you really loved us. Thanks dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't even know how much it hurts to know that your real dad doesn't even bother to take the time out of his new life to revisit his old and to heal what has been hurt.&lt;br /&gt;God, I feel like such a stupid baby for crying over this. At least I think about you every once in awhile, unlike you.&lt;br /&gt;I sound so self fish right now, but I think I have to right to say this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was actually going to chose to live with you when you and mom separated. But I'm glad I didn't. I don't want to care but I do. I hate remembering those memories you created with me in my childhood, they were really amazing.&lt;br /&gt;..Do you remember when you first taught me how to ride a bike? Helped me up on my two feet for my first baby steps? Hugged me as tight as you could because you were scared that I might've disappeared? Chased me up the stairs while we were playing tag and laugh uncontrollably when you picked me up and yelled in excitement, "YOUR IT!" Bought me Oreo ice-cream sandwiches way early in the morning when mom was at work? Do you even remember holding my hand when you dropped me off at school..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You didn't have to throw out our baby pictures though... to think of it, it hurts so bad... so badly that I can't breathe, even if I'm not crying, I just can't handle the pain.. It's like you wanted to erase what you can't erase, so you run away instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, I don't even have pictures of you either.&lt;br /&gt;Since you replaced me with your family, I'll replace you with what I have now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe...in the next life you'll be a better dad.&lt;br /&gt;Though, you must've been somewhat of a good dad if I still love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I hate you at the same time too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Goodbye daddy ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;                      &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Your nonexistent daughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-2265530599551369160?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/2265530599551369160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=2265530599551369160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2265530599551369160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/2265530599551369160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/11/dear-daddy.html' title='Dear Daddy ..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-4773520578860301190</id><published>2008-11-22T17:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T23:48:06.656-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bored'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crush'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cold'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waiting'/><title type='text'>Waiting  ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th05.deviantart.com/fs39/300W/i/2008/327/6/d/child5_by_Finch1988.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 273px;" src="http://th05.deviantart.com/fs39/300W/i/2008/327/6/d/child5_by_Finch1988.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Don't you ever find it contradicting when people tell you, "Patience is the key - good things come to people who wait." but then another 50% tell you, "Don't hold back - fight for what you want before it's too late."&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I don't know which one to do. I've been patient, but it's killing me. I want to fight for it but I don't even have a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I felt like an idiot in class just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;waiting&lt;/span&gt;. I just blankly watched everyone present their presentations and I just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;waited&lt;/span&gt; for him to come today. I kept telling myself '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh, he's just late, like every other day.&lt;/span&gt;" But he never came. I was looking forward to this weekend like a child before Christmas, with high hopes of seeing Santa. But those hopes just got crushed in the end. Don't ever promise someone something if you can't fulfill it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After class, I waited alone for about twenty minutes to see if he'd come. I sat outside in the cold, looking around like an idiot. I had a feeling he wasn't going to come, but I just wanted to reassure myself. But, I felt a cold coming on so I went to the car and went home, pondering on thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this is a sign to tell me that all of my wasted time on him was for nothing. I don't see any point in liking him anymore. But the thing is, there is this metal string HOLDING me down to him. I'm tied down securely and I can't escape. The thing other is - I can't really find anything to hate about him, because I actually love everything about him. I only get one chance to see him every week, and he tends to not show up or he's late as hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is just symbolically telling me it's too late for me to fight and that I've waited to long. I'm nothing but just some friend that you get to see every once in awhile and just chill for an hour and leave forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;sometimes,&lt;br /&gt;you get so sick of trying and crying over the same person,&lt;br /&gt;because honestly.. on the inside you're just dying for a reason that doesn't exist.&lt;br /&gt;but you wanna fight for something worth fighting for, right?&lt;br /&gt;though, is the pain really worth all this?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-4773520578860301190?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/4773520578860301190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=4773520578860301190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4773520578860301190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/4773520578860301190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/11/dont-you-ever-find-it-contradicting.html' title='Waiting  ..'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897121602449534962.post-5410898961096988319</id><published>2008-11-20T20:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T03:59:05.220-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='etc.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='questions'/><title type='text'>Ever ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th08.deviantart.com/fs39/300W/i/2008/324/7/6/Can_I____by_Ausri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 190px;" src="http://th08.deviantart.com/fs39/300W/i/2008/324/7/6/Can_I____by_Ausri.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ever constantly found yourself subconsciously clicking their Facebook and visiting their profile ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever found yourself thinking of them 24/7 and never really paying attention to anyone ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever tried to not seem so obvious around them but you can't help but smile like an idiot ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever dressed up and made your self look the best when you're with them but with just your friend you don't care what the hell you wear ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever felt happy when they've opened up to you about something really personal to them and that they could trust you ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever cried or hurt so bad when they talk to you about a girl/boy that they really like ? Something like you feel for them ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever forced yourself to be happy for them when they have that someone in their arms and it's not you ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever pretend to ignore them just to see if they'd notice and think about what they did wrong for the next hour or so ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever hugged them and never wanted to let go ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever accidentally touch their hands and felt your face turn pink after wards ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever wanted to always be with them whenever you have the chance ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever found yourself always running to them when you need advice or help or just someone to cry on ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever tried to spare anyone's feelings that really liked you but not mentioning who you liked around them ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever screamed on the inside whenever they did something incredibly cute ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever remember everything little thing they do ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever loved all their ridiculous flaws ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever kept listening to songs that was almost exactly like your situation ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever notice that if you don't get out of this, you're going to fall deeper ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever realized that you probably don't have a chance with them and all of this was probably a waste of time ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmhm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4897121602449534962-5410898961096988319?l=quite-complex.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/feeds/5410898961096988319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4897121602449534962&amp;postID=5410898961096988319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5410898961096988319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4897121602449534962/posts/default/5410898961096988319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quite-complex.blogspot.com/2008/11/ever-constantly-found-yourself.html' title='Ever ?'/><author><name>coloryourworld</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07248601415083171015</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OEVRRaapI4M/Su0dExfjjGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dTk2si1GeBM/S220/01.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
