<?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-5316308140899481630</id><updated>2011-10-01T08:31:45.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nk.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-15591577706132543</id><published>2011-05-16T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T20:34:10.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>he put it on me, I put it on, like there was nothing wrong. it didn't fit, it wasn't right. wasn't just the size. they say you know, when you know. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't feel the fairytale feeling, no. am I a stupid girl for even dreaming that I could?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if it's not like the movies, that's how it should be, yeah. when he's the one, I'll come undone, and my world will stop spinning. and that's just the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;snow white said when I was young, "one day my prince will come." so I wait for that date. they say its hard to meet your match, find my better half. so we make perfect shapes. if stars don't align, if it doesn't stop time, if you can't see the sign, wait for it. one hundred percent, with every penny spent. he'll be the one that, finishes your sentences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if it's not like the movies, that's how it should be, yeah. when he's  the one, I'll come undone, and my world will stop spinning. and that's  just the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'cause I know you're out there, and you're, you're looking for me. it's a crazy idea that you were made, perfectly for me you'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just like the movies. that's how it will be. cinematic and dramatic with the perfect ending. it's not like the movies, but that's how it will be. when he's the one, you'll come undone, and your world will stop spinning, and it's just the beginning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-15591577706132543?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/15591577706132543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=15591577706132543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/15591577706132543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/15591577706132543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2011/05/he-put-it-on-me-i-put-it-on-like-there.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-4284742784923079775</id><published>2011-04-19T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T13:03:50.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've come to realization after reading my past blogs over and over again that I made myself &lt;strong&gt;believe&lt;/strong&gt; I was happy instead of actually&lt;strong&gt; being&lt;/strong&gt; happy. bliss doesn't come from just saying "I love you," or by being physical. it's deeper than that. I wasn't happy. being ditched countless times, being cheated on, being used... that's not bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also come to realize that someone can actually make me happy. I've never met such a gentleman, someone who literally can't get the smile off my face. every smile I wear is from him. the first time I saw him I knew I'd fall in love with him. I knew he wasn't available, but a girl could dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreams do come true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-4284742784923079775?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/4284742784923079775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=4284742784923079775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/4284742784923079775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/4284742784923079775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2011/04/ive-come-to-realization-after-reading.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-1829632415385296035</id><published>2011-01-03T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T17:08:21.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the below posts are no longer applicable.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;any takers? ;)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-1829632415385296035?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/1829632415385296035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=1829632415385296035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1829632415385296035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1829632415385296035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2011/01/below-posts-are-no-longer-applicable.html' title='the below posts are no longer applicable.'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-4694789285014778123</id><published>2010-08-25T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T17:28:25.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I haven't updated in like 6 years</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was doing some thinking, and I just really felt the need to talk about how untrustworthy most people in the world can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;it's astounding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've pondered, and over the past year or so, I've encountered a couple handfuls (if not more) of fake-ass people in my life that I've actually fallen over their stupid game. I'm not just talking boys, I'm mainly talking friends here. it's amazing how one person can fuck up a whole bunch of relationships, friendships, and your life, and one person can make you complete again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it seems that I've come to a point where I can't even trust someone I've known for years, because you really don't know what will happen within the next minute. a person can be your best friend for years and a day later they could hate you for dating someone. a person can make it seem like you can trust them and can talk to them about anything, and two minutes later your entire group of friends know only half the story (since the person has changed around your words), and now they hate you. a person can be someone you can depend on, but the next moment they could be taking a fit on you for no fucking reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just really don't know what to do about anything and anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's not even entirely the trustworthy thing, I just thought I knew so many people who were by my side through a lot, and now I know that they really don't care. they don't care if I'm happy, they don't care if I'm alive. they're just all pissed because I started worrying about my own life instead of continously worrying about theirs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ugh, I can't even-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-4694789285014778123?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/4694789285014778123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=4694789285014778123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/4694789285014778123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/4694789285014778123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-havent-updated-in-like-6-years.html' title='I haven&apos;t updated in like 6 years'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-3942719392113179576</id><published>2010-05-14T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T18:38:09.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>your love is my drug</title><content type='html'>maybe I need some rehab, or maybe just need some sleep. I got a sick obsession, I'm seein it in my dreams. I'm looking down every alley, I'm making those desperate calls. I'm staying up all night, hoping, hitting my head against the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what you got boy, is hard to find. I think about it all the time. I'm all strung out, my heart is fried. I just can't get you off my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because your love, your love, your love is my drug. your love, your love, your love. your love, your love, your love is my drug. your love, your love, your love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;won't listen to any advice, mama's tellin me I should think twice. but look into my own devices, I'm addicted, it's a crisis. my friends think I've gone crazy, my judgments getting kindof hazy. my steeze is gonna be affected if I keep it up like a love sick crack head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what you got boy, is hard to find. I think about it all the time. I'm all strung out, my heart is fried. I just can't get you off my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because your love, your love, your love is my drug. your love, your love, your love. your love, your love, your love is my drug. your love, your love, your love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont care what people say, the rush is worth the price I pay. I get so high when you're with me, but crash and crave you when you leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hey, so I got a question, do you wanna have a slumber party in my basement? do I make your heart beat like an 808 drum? is my love your drug? your drug? huh, your drug? huh, your drug? is my love your drug?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because your love, your love, your love is my drug. your love, your love, your love. your love, your love, your love is my drug. your love, your love, your love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hey, so, your love, your love, your love, is my drug.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-3942719392113179576?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/3942719392113179576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=3942719392113179576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/3942719392113179576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/3942719392113179576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2010/05/your-love-is-my-drug.html' title='your love is my drug'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-5692225466121376086</id><published>2010-05-08T19:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T19:42:39.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>what I really meant to say...</title><content type='html'>it took me by surprise when I saw you standing there; close enough to touch, breathing the same air. you asked me how I'd been, I guess that's when I smiled and said "just fine." oh, but baby I was lying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what I really meant to say is I'm dying here inside, and I miss you more each day. there's not a night I haven't cried. and baby, here's the truth, I'm still in love with you. and, that's what I really meant to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and as you walked away the echo of my words cut just like a knife, cut so deep it hurt. I held back the tears, held on to my pride and watched you go. I wonder if you'll ever know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what I really meant to say is I'm dying here inside, and I miss you more each day. there's not a night I haven't cried. and baby, here's the truth, I'm still in love with you. and, that's what I really meant to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what I really meant to say is I'm really not that strong. no matter how I try, I'm still holding on. and here's the honest truth, I'm still in love with you. and that's what I really meant to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-5692225466121376086?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/5692225466121376086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=5692225466121376086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5692225466121376086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5692225466121376086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-i-really-meant-to-say.html' title='what I really meant to say...'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-7278094171044170376</id><published>2010-04-22T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T21:15:58.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>when 3's a crowd</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/S9Ee6xThrwI/AAAAAAAAAE4/7TfhOa05Eps/s1600/quite_contrary_by_Pretty_As_A_Picture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463181817993604866" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/S9Ee6xThrwI/AAAAAAAAAE4/7TfhOa05Eps/s200/quite_contrary_by_Pretty_As_A_Picture.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;b&gt;I went to sleep thinking about you and I woke up just the same.&lt;/b&gt; you made it so hard for me to close my eyes. don't worry babe, this will be &lt;i&gt;alright&lt;/i&gt; in the end, &lt;b&gt;and I'll be your &lt;u&gt;everything&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so we'll both tell ourselves that &lt;i&gt;this for the best&lt;/i&gt;, but I'm depending on you to lead me through. so try to stop those hands, you're riding down my neck. &lt;b&gt;you touch, I tremble, you never were one to &lt;u&gt;play fair&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;these past four walls won't be the only thing that's keeping me from you.&lt;/b&gt; this distance could never hold this back. so let's just take this time and we'll use this for reflection, and I'll see you in three days, and you'll think of me when you're next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;don't mind my gasp, it's so much &lt;i&gt;harder&lt;/i&gt; to breathe when &lt;u&gt;you're near&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;/b&gt; you made it so hard for me to learn through my eyes. don't mind me asking but could I trouble you, miss, for a smile? just give me one last wish with a kiss, it's what my dreams are made of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so we'll both tell ourselves that &lt;i&gt;this for the best&lt;/i&gt;, but I'm depending on you to lead me through. so try to stop those hands, you're riding down my neck. &lt;b&gt;you touch, I tremble, you never were one to &lt;u&gt;play fair&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;these past four walls won't be the only thing that's keeping me from you.&lt;/b&gt; this distance could never hold this back. so let's just take this time and we'll use this for reflection, and I'll see you in three days, and you'll think of me when you're next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so &lt;b&gt;here we are &lt;u&gt;again&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, in the &lt;i&gt;same situation&lt;/i&gt;. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, and you're not saying a word. did you just say what you mean? why can't you can't you just &lt;u&gt;mean what you said&lt;/u&gt;, when you said &lt;b&gt;"no one can love you like me"&lt;/b&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;these past four walls won't be the only thing that's keeping me from you.&lt;/b&gt; this distance could never hold this back. so let's just take this time and we'll use this for reflection, and I'll see you in three days, and you'll think of me when you're next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;we could have been beautiful.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-7278094171044170376?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/7278094171044170376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=7278094171044170376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/7278094171044170376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/7278094171044170376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-3s-crowd.html' title='when 3&apos;s a crowd'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/S9Ee6xThrwI/AAAAAAAAAE4/7TfhOa05Eps/s72-c/quite_contrary_by_Pretty_As_A_Picture.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-7099555432750012824</id><published>2010-01-17T12:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T13:01:32.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>basically my issue a few months ago</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;according to you I'm stupid, I'm useless, I can't do anything right. according to you I'm difficult, hard to please, forever changing my mind.I'm a mess in a dress, can't show up on time, even if it would save my life. according to you... according to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but according to him I'm beautiful, incredible, he can't get me out of his head. according to him I'm funny, irresistible, everything he ever wanted. everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it, so baby tell me what I got to lose. he's into me for everything I'm not, according to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;according to you I'm boring, I'm moody, you can't take me any place. according to you I suck at telling jokes cause I always give it away. I'm the girl with the worst attention span; you're the boy who puts up with that. according to you... according to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but according to him I'm beautiful, incredible, he can't get me out of his head. according to him I'm funny, irresistible, everything he ever wanted. everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it, so baby tell me what I got to lose. he's into me for everything I'm not, according to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to feel appreciated, like I'm not hated. why can't you see me through his eyes? it's too bad you're making me decide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;according to me you're stupid, you're useless, you can't do anything right. but according to him I'm beautiful, incredible, he can't get me out of his head. according to him I'm funny, irresistible, everything he ever wanted. everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it, baby tell me what I got to lose. he's into me for everything I'm not, according to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;according to you I'm stupid, I'm useless, I can't do anything right. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-7099555432750012824?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/7099555432750012824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=7099555432750012824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/7099555432750012824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/7099555432750012824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2010/01/basically-my-issue-few-months-ago.html' title='basically my issue a few months ago'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-6515294196846939266</id><published>2009-12-11T21:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T21:58:30.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>fresh new start</title><content type='html'>today will be the last time I ever write about him. I'm starting over.&lt;br /&gt;3 years is long enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;goodbye end, and hello beginning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-6515294196846939266?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/6515294196846939266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=6515294196846939266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6515294196846939266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6515294196846939266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/12/fresh-new-start.html' title='fresh new start'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-9155909229593222564</id><published>2009-11-22T16:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T16:36:42.176-08:00</updated><title type='text'>here we go, go, go again.</title><content type='html'>I throw all of your stuff away then I clear you out of my head. I tear you out of my heart and ignore all your messages. I tell everyone we are through 'cause I'm so much better without you, but it's just another pretty lie 'cause I break down everytime you come around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so how did you get here under my skin? swore that I'd never let you back in. should've known better then trying to let you go, 'cause here we go, go, go again. hard as I try I know I can't quit, something about you is so addictive. we're falling together, you think that by now I'd know 'cause here we go, go, go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you never know what you want and you never say what you mean, but I start to go insane everytime that you look at me. you only hear half of what I say and you're always showing up too late. and I know that I should say goodbye but it's no use, can't be with or without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so how did you get here under my skin? swore that I'd never let you back in. should've known better then trying to let you go, 'cause here we go, go, go again. hard as I try I know I can't quit, something about you is so addictive. we're falling together, you think that by now I'd know 'cause here we go, go, go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and again, and again, and again... I throw all your stuff away... then I cleared you out of my head... I tore you out of my heart...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so how did you get here under my skin? swore that I'd never let you back in. should've known better than trying to let you go, 'cause here we go, go, go again. hard as I try I know I can't quit, something about you is so addictive. we're falling together, you think that by now I'd know 'cause here we go, go, go again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-9155909229593222564?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/9155909229593222564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=9155909229593222564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/9155909229593222564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/9155909229593222564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/11/here-we-go-go-go-again.html' title='here we go, go, go again.'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-6140524385203672152</id><published>2009-11-05T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T12:06:20.592-08:00</updated><title type='text'>forever and always?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fc02.deviantart.com/fs16/f/2007/138/0/0/Cuz_it__s_always_rainin____by_roseonthegrey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 232px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 324px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://fc02.deviantart.com/fs16/f/2007/138/0/0/Cuz_it__s_always_rainin____by_roseonthegrey.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;once upon a time, I believe it was a tuesday when I caught your eye and we caught onto something. I hold onto the night, you looked me in the eye and told me you loved me, were you just kidding? 'cause it seems to me, this thing is breaking down. we almost never speak. I don't feel welcome anymore. baby what happened, please tell me? 'cause one second it was perfect, now you're halfway out the door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I stare at the phone, he still hasn't called and then you feel so low you can't feel nothing at all and you flashback to when he said "forever and always." oh, and it rains in your bedroom; everything is wrong. it rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone. 'cause I was there when you said "forever and always."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was I out of line? did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy? I looked into your eyes, thought I knew you for a minute, now I'm not so sure. so here's everything coming down to nothing. here's to silence that cuts me to the core. where is this going? thought I knew for a minute, but I don't anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I stare at the phone, he still hasn't called and then you feel so low you can't feel nothing at all and you flashback to when he said "forever and always." oh, and it rains in your bedroom; everything is wrong. it rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone. 'cause I was there when you said "forever and always." you didn't mean it baby. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything? back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it rains in your bedroom; everything is wrong. it rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone. 'cause I was there when you said "forever and always."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stare at the phone, he still hasn't called and then you feel so low you can't feel nothing at all and you flashback to when he said "forever and always."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it rains in your bedroom; everything is wrong. it rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone. 'cause I was there when you said "forever and always."you didn't mean it baby, you said forever and always. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-6140524385203672152?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/6140524385203672152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=6140524385203672152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6140524385203672152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6140524385203672152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/11/forever-and-always.html' title='forever and always?'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-1517243138060328832</id><published>2009-10-06T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T21:05:40.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>puppy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.lasharpei.com/LaurensSharpei.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 414px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 472px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.lasharpei.com/LaurensSharpei.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DO WANT.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(I would love to wake up to this every morning)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-1517243138060328832?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/1517243138060328832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=1517243138060328832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1517243138060328832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1517243138060328832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/10/puppy.html' title='puppy'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-5301329413514861840</id><published>2009-09-22T21:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T21:48:55.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.j-lafferty.com/gallery/albums/othepisodestills/3/318/318-0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 425px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.j-lafferty.com/gallery/albums/othepisodestills/3/318/318-0003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want a Nathan Scott/Haley James kind of love. I hope it'll turn into that; I've got the Haley part down, I just need the better half.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-5301329413514861840?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/5301329413514861840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=5301329413514861840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5301329413514861840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5301329413514861840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-want-nathan-scotthaley-james-kind-of.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-3925855748298322986</id><published>2009-09-14T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T21:42:22.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>isn't something missing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;there's only so much venting a girl can listen to before she asks "why doesn't anyone want to listen to ME ever?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;day after day, night after night, I am left to sit online (by choice obviously) and listen to someone or something's problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;did you know I'm clinically depressed?&lt;br /&gt;did you know my boyfriend and I have been on and off for 3 years and he's actually the reason I'm on anti-depressants in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;did you know I have and do tell him I love him and I've never once heard it back?&lt;br /&gt;did you know I've lost my sister to a bar and it's tender every night?&lt;br /&gt;did you know my dad is a raging alcoholic and is ashamed of me?&lt;br /&gt;did you know my mom is jealous of every woman on the planet because my dad makes her feel insecure?&lt;br /&gt;did you know I get comments daily telling me that I should die, or that I'm ugly, or that I'm fat, or that I'm actually worthless?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no. because nobody asks. nobody even dares to ask if I'm okay, or how my life is going. I'm just everybody's therapist. and as much as I don't actually mind, I just wish someone gave a shit about me. I can simply bring up my problem to a friend and they will go "oh... well my life sucks because I broke a nail." or something RIDICULOUS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is there anybody out there?&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/5316308140899481630-3925855748298322986?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/3925855748298322986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=3925855748298322986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/3925855748298322986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/3925855748298322986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/09/isnt-something-missing.html' title='isn&apos;t something missing?'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-2636795369738200202</id><published>2009-09-10T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T20:44:37.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>have faith in me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs28/i/2008/049/d/7/love_will_keep_us_alive_by_churchlady.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 338px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 327px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs28/i/2008/049/d/7/love_will_keep_us_alive_by_churchlady.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;have faith in me, cause there are things that I've seen I don't believe. so cling to what you know and never let go. you should know things aren't always what they seem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I said I'd never let you go and I never did. I said I'd never let you fall and I always meant it. if you didn't have a chance then I never did. you'll always find me right there again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I've gone crazy, cause there are things in the streets I don't believe. so we'll pretend it's alright and stay in for the night, what a world. I'll keep you safe here with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I said I'd never let you go and I never did. I said I'd never let you fall and I always meant it. if you didn't have a chance then I never did. you'll always find me right there again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-2636795369738200202?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/2636795369738200202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=2636795369738200202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/2636795369738200202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/2636795369738200202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/09/have-faith-in-me.html' title='have faith in me'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-6327576615231302685</id><published>2009-08-24T21:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:03:05.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Future</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ever since my mom mentioned that she wants to switch mine and my sister's rooms, I have never been so god-damn excited in my entire life. It's a chance to reflect my ever-changing personality that has grown over the past 4 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just turned 14 when my room got completely made over. I picked a blood red colour for my walls, and I wanted everything else black and white. I chose this theme because it matches Avril Lavigne's first two CD's. Although I love my room, I want a more artsy fartsy feel. It's time to grow up to being an adult and take down the posters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I move into my sisters room, I'd like to keep my framed magazine covers that I have of Avril Lavigne, and the one gorgeous painting I have of Avril. I want to add pictures of my friends all over my walls, inspiration quotes, little paintings, and framed artwork of celebrities like Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thinking about it makes me so excited. I have never wanted to do a project so much in my life. Only a year or so and I can make it happen!&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/5316308140899481630-6327576615231302685?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/6327576615231302685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=6327576615231302685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6327576615231302685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6327576615231302685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/08/future.html' title='Future'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-5202576780488456785</id><published>2009-08-07T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T18:40:56.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.taylorpictures.net/albums/userpics/10001/taylorweb030.png"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 359px" alt="" src="http://www.taylorpictures.net/albums/userpics/10001/taylorweb030.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;there's something about the way the street looks when it's just rained, there's a glow off the pavement. walk me to the car, and you know I wanna ask you to dance right there in the middle of the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;we're driving down the road, I wonder if you know I'm trying so hard not to get caught up now. but you're just so cool, run your hands through your hair absent mindedly making me want you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know how it gets better than this. you take my hand and drag me head first; fearless. and I don't know why but with you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress; fearless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so baby drive slow 'til we run out of road in this one horse town. I wanna stay right here in this passenger's seat. you put your eyes on me in this moment, now capture it, remember it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'cause I don't know how it gets better than this. you take my hand and drag me head first; fearless. and I don't know why but with you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress; fearless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well you stood there with me in the doorway, my hands shake. I'm not usually this way but you pull me in and I'm a little more brave. it's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something, it's fearless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I don't know how it gets better than this. you take my hand and drag me head first; fearless. and I don't know why but with you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress; fearless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-5202576780488456785?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/5202576780488456785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=5202576780488456785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5202576780488456785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5202576780488456785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/08/theres-something-about-way-street-looks.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-2333177677066136091</id><published>2009-08-03T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T23:19:50.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the day you slipped away...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/SnfScDeMxpI/AAAAAAAAACY/UJ5CEafszAI/s1600-h/img012-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365988860445378194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/SnfScDeMxpI/AAAAAAAAACY/UJ5CEafszAI/s200/img012-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;August 4th, 2004. It's been exactly 5 years since I woke up and heard the news that you were gone, that you had died. And I remember it clearly.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was 5 o'clock in the morning, and being the night-hawk that I am, I was up online chatting with some friends. I was also on webcam. I left the computer to get the remote to turn on the TV, and when I got back my friend had asked me if I went upstairs. Obviously, I said no, I went the complete opposite way of the stairs. When I asked him why, he told me he seen someone walking upstairs. Scared, I got offline and went up to bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;8 o'clock in the morning, 3 hours after I went to sleep, I woke up to my mom screaming. I automatically assumed she was dreaming, since she always yells in her sleep, that is until I heard my sister screaming a fit. I immediately got up. I walked into my sister's room sure enough to find my mom crouched on the floor holding the phone to her ear, yelling "My brother is dead! Oh my god, I can't believe my brother is dead," and my sister hugging her pillow tight as ever, completely drenched in tears. I asked my dad what had happened,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Your Uncle Kelly is dead."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I didn't know what to say, feel, or even think. All that came out was "Oh." Moments passed and we travel downstairs, where I'm still half-asleep and so confused. I had never seen my mother so heartbroken. My sister was hugging my waist, still crying. She asked why I wasn't sad, why I wasn't upset like she was. I couldn't respond, because I honestly didn't know why. I didn't know why I wasn't teary-eyed and broken like my mother and my sibling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;At this point we had to tell my Grandmother; the parent of my poor Uncle Kelly. My dad decided he would drive to her work to pick her up so she wouldn't have to drive, because we knew the state she would be in. Here we go. My mother's on the phone; "Can I speak to Diana Reaume please? Thank you." A moment passes, "Mom... I have something to tell you... Just promise me to stay where you are... Carl is going to come and get you, okay?... Just listen to me... Carl will come and pick you up... Okay... Mom, Kelly's dead... He's dead. He died last night..." Just as they were finishing their agnozing conversation, my dad was bolting out the front door, driving away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As many phone calls were made, and the news passed on, I fell asleep on the couch again. I heard the family members and neighbours and friends piling into the house, but I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want to have to suffer the sympathy I was going to receive for the next week, at least. I didn't want to give or receive hugs, I didn't want to hold anybody. I just wanted to be alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When I did manage to wake up and escape everyone, I journied to the lowest level of my house. There, I put on Avril Lavigne's "Under My Skin" album and skipped to track 12 as I showed my respect for my lost family member in my screenames online. I just sat back and listened to the lyrics. Listening to the song only once wasn't enough. I had to keep it on repeat. Eventually after listening to it 7 times, it finally got to me. My mom walked downstairs into the basement to tell me more people were over, and she seen me sitting there, head in hands, sobbing harder than I ever have in my life. "Mom... it just hit me... he's gone. I can't believe it. He's gone, Mom." She gave me a quick hug and walked back upstairs. She, herself, didn't want to be near anyone. She just wanted to have her brother back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was my very first funeral, in my life, that week. And it was probably my worst. My Grandmother was the first to enter, with my Mother and her other brother, my Uncle Kevin, and of course my Uncle Kelly's wife, Kim. I had just seen a casket at the end of a long room; I didn't see a body in it, but I did see my Grandmother leaned over it, hugging whatever seemed to be in there, and yelling "Oh, my Kelly.... Kelly, my Kelly." The closer we walked, the more I could see. My sister was then grabbing onto my arm, almost breaking it right off from her grip; she immediately clasped her hand over her mouth and sobbed. I couldn't help but say "Oh my god..." as we approached the casket. There he was. Jeans, and his Mark Martin "Nascar" shirt. Asleep. I was almost certain he was going to sit up and make a ridiculous joke, but the problem was, he wasn't going to wake up ever again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I hold very few regrets in my life, and the few that I do involve my Uncle Kelly. For starters, a massive fued broke out between my Uncle Kelly, my Mother and my Grandmother. Threats were said, cops were called. Being so young when the family broke up, I, of course, sided with my Mother and my Grandmother. My 8th birthday was the last time I had seen him. I used to hang out around his neighbourhood with friends almost everyday growing up in my teen years. I always watched his house, but never even stepped foot on the lawn or driveway. I was too scared. I didn't know if he would remember me or if he would tell me to leave just because of the past feud. Everytime I was in the neighbourhood I would just stop, look, sigh, and continue on my way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not a day passes by that I don't regret not knocking on his door, or answering the phone everytime he tried to call. I feel like if I would have, he would still be here. I would still be able to act like a goofball with him, I would still hear his jokes and his childish laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I feel like I was never close to him like everyone else was, even though I feel more hurt than everyone else is and was. My sister was his Goddaughter, I was just his niece. I felt of less importance, but I'm told he really loved me. I never believed this until I came across home videos. He was the only one in the videos that could make me smile, and the only one that could play around with me. I immediately felt special.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kelly Burleigh, the most amazing Uncle to me, I miss you and I love you. It's been 5 years since you left us, but it feels like yesterday that you were here driving me around in a doorless, roofless Jeep, celebrating all of my birthday's and Christmas with me, breaking my kiddie pools, playing baseball and hockey with us on the road, and of course throwing sparklers into your own car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I hope someday we meet again.&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/5316308140899481630-2333177677066136091?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/2333177677066136091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=2333177677066136091' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/2333177677066136091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/2333177677066136091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-you-slipped-away.html' title='the day you slipped away...'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/SnfScDeMxpI/AAAAAAAAACY/UJ5CEafszAI/s72-c/img012-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-1999894708544321031</id><published>2009-07-24T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T15:05:34.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/SmowHsWf8YI/AAAAAAAAACI/1uL3f3KlnhI/s1600-h/z198383176.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362151215060742530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 406px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/SmowHsWf8YI/AAAAAAAAACI/1uL3f3KlnhI/s400/z198383176.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/Smov_nCIj-I/AAAAAAAAACA/B7Tl63eioSU/s1600-h/z198383176.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/5316308140899481630-1999894708544321031?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/1999894708544321031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=1999894708544321031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1999894708544321031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1999894708544321031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/SmowHsWf8YI/AAAAAAAAACI/1uL3f3KlnhI/s72-c/z198383176.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-169877097726781966</id><published>2009-07-20T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T23:44:42.797-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you don't see me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs9/i/2006/147/7/f/its_only_you_beautiful__by_flatrabbitfan.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 328px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px" alt="" src="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs9/i/2006/147/7/f/its_only_you_beautiful__by_flatrabbitfan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; This is the place where I sit. This is the part where I love you too much. Is this as hard as it gets? 'Cause I'm getting tired of pretending I'm tough. I'm here if you want me. I'm yours, you can hold me. I'm empty and aching and tumbling and breaking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'Cause you don't see me. And you don't need me. And you don't love me. The way I wish you would, the way I know you could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I dream of worlds where you'd understand, and I dream a million sleepless nights. I dream of fire when you're touching my hand, but it twists into smoke when I turn on the light. I'm speechless and faded, it's too complicated. Is this how the book ends, nothing but good friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'Cause you don't see me. And you don't need me. And you don't love me. The way I wish you would...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This is the place in my heart. This is the place where I'm falling apart. Isn't this just where we met? And is this the last chance that I'll ever get? I wish I was lonely instead of just only crystal and see-through and not enough to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'Cause you don't see me. And you don't need me. And you don't love me. The way I wish you would... 'Cause you don't see me. And you don't need me. And you don't love me. The way I wish you would, the way I know you could.&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/5316308140899481630-169877097726781966?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/169877097726781966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=169877097726781966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/169877097726781966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/169877097726781966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/07/you-dont-see-me.html' title='you don&apos;t see me'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-1488181252732662368</id><published>2009-07-16T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T21:23:04.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/Sl_8dMlYsuI/AAAAAAAAAB4/pU8w-t8qnf0/s1600-h/brooke_davis_by_mese4inkata.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359279660118618850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/Sl_8dMlYsuI/AAAAAAAAAB4/pU8w-t8qnf0/s200/brooke_davis_by_mese4inkata.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was afraid of getting my heart broken again, like before. 'Cause you hurt me so bad, and I was afraid to be vulnerable. And I was afraid of you and the way that you make me feel. And I know that doesn't matter now after what I did, but I just thought that you should know. This was how I spent my summer; wanting you... I'm just too scared to admit it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-1488181252732662368?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/1488181252732662368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=1488181252732662368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1488181252732662368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1488181252732662368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-was-afraid-of-getting-my-heart-broken.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O1CZcOCX4ZA/Sl_8dMlYsuI/AAAAAAAAAB4/pU8w-t8qnf0/s72-c/brooke_davis_by_mese4inkata.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-9156365229357974136</id><published>2009-07-16T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T10:43:01.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am done.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am done with &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt;, and &lt;strong&gt;your&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;lies&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are supposed to be my best friend. Or &lt;em&gt;was &lt;/em&gt;supposed to be, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I were inseparable, and all of a sudden you completely changed. You thought it would be extra neat to drop out of school, and move out of your house. You had no reason to do that. Your life was beyond great. Your family loved you, and you were finally picking up in classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now, since you've moved, you think you're some fucking hot shot. I don't think so. You think hanging out with older people, getting tattoos, and "rocking out" is the way of life - let me tell ya something, kid, it really isn't. I hope you wake up one day and realize how much you messed up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm especially disappointed because I found out you're a pothead again. Don't you &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; try to tell me again that you quit drugs for me, and that I changed my life. I apparently mean fuck all to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am sick of trying to keep this friendship alive when it actuality it died 7 months ago. Don't call me and ask me to hang out, because I know you're just going to fall through like you've done time and time again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;See ya.&lt;/strong&gt;&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/5316308140899481630-9156365229357974136?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/9156365229357974136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=9156365229357974136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/9156365229357974136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/9156365229357974136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-am-done.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-5178257322573295690</id><published>2009-07-10T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T21:56:52.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fc03.deviantart.com/fs27/i/2008/346/c/1/twilight_by_aynrina.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 341px" alt="" src="http://fc03.deviantart.com/fs27/i/2008/346/c/1/twilight_by_aynrina.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I’d never given much though to how I would die — though I’d had reason enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something. I knew that if I’d never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.&lt;/em&gt;&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/5316308140899481630-5178257322573295690?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/5178257322573295690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=5178257322573295690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5178257322573295690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5178257322573295690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/07/id-never-given-much-though-to-how-i.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-8735642763594394354</id><published>2009-06-25T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:42:49.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://th01.deviantart.net/fs41/300W/i/2009/039/4/7/ingrijorator_de_leguma_by_siLEnt_hEArtaCHe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 451px" alt="" src="http://th01.deviantart.net/fs41/300W/i/2009/039/4/7/ingrijorator_de_leguma_by_siLEnt_hEArtaCHe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;here's another pity and there's another chance. try to learn a lesson but you can't. if we can burn a city in futures and in past, without a change our lives will never last. 'cause we're going fast. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;you can sit beside me when the world comes down, if it doesn't matter then just turn around. we don't need our bags and we can just leave town. you can sit beside me when the world comes down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;what can we do better, when will we know how? a man says from a sidewalk to a crowd. if we can change the weather, if you wanted to yourself. and if you can't I guess we all need help, yeah, I need help.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;you can sit beside me when the world comes down, if it doesn't matter then just turn around. we don't need our bags and we can just leave town. you can sit beside me when the world comes down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;we say and we do, all the lies, the truth. and all I need is next to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;you can sit beside me when the world comes down, if it doesn't matter then just turn around. will you be the queen? and I'll be your clown, you can sit beside me when the world comes down.&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/5316308140899481630-8735642763594394354?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/8735642763594394354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=8735642763594394354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/8735642763594394354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/8735642763594394354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/06/heres-another-pity-and-theres-another.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-6813697442500457437</id><published>2009-06-20T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:08:13.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fc05.deviantart.com/fs25/f/2008/132/c/6/The_fate_is_all_we_knew_by_ta_nya.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 392px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px" alt="" src="http://fc05.deviantart.com/fs25/f/2008/132/c/6/The_fate_is_all_we_knew_by_ta_nya.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;you took my hand, you showed me how. you promised me you'd be around. I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;if someone said three years from now you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out 'cause they're all wrong. I know better 'cause you said forever and ever. who knew?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;remember when we were such fools and so convinced and just too cool. I wish I could touch you again, I wish I could still call you friend. I'd give anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;when someone said count your blessings now before they're long gone, I guess I just didn't know how. I was all wrong. they knew better, still you said forever and ever. who knew?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'll keep you locked in my head until we meet again. and I won't forget you, my friend. what happened?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;if someone said three years from now you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out 'cause they're all wrong. and that last kiss I'll cherish until we meet again. and time makes it harder; I wish I could remember. but I keep your memory, you visit me in the my sleep. my darling, who knew?&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/5316308140899481630-6813697442500457437?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/6813697442500457437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=6813697442500457437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6813697442500457437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/6813697442500457437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-took-my-hand-you-showed-me-how.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-1385264492697397786</id><published>2009-06-17T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:27:46.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs37/i/2008/263/0/5/over____by_MorkOrk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px" alt="" src="http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs37/i/2008/263/0/5/over____by_MorkOrk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;here's a middle finger coming straight from oca-l-a . I appreciate your judgement, it's proved that I can't trust a word you say. those must be some pair of binoculars that you see every move I make. so I'll never be a liar but you'll always be two-faced. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;you'll get what's coming to you. you're blinded by your instincts. I'm not your fucking game, I'm not so easily beat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm looking down at this mess that you've made and I can't believe that I stayed so unhappy for so long. where did I go wrong? I've got to get out of this. my hand is on the handle. we're leaving everything behind. goodbye for a lifetime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'll rip that scandalous bitch in two. we'll bring the noise. try to pretend that I never even knew your name 'cause everything you are disgusts me (too bad I can't turn back time). so I wouldn't be here, what I'd give for you to disappear. so tell me, how's your edge? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;you've got nothing better to do. I know why you can't see straight. I thought you were better than this, but you're just like everyone else.&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/5316308140899481630-1385264492697397786?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/1385264492697397786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=1385264492697397786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1385264492697397786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/1385264492697397786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/06/heres-middle-finger-coming-straight.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-7668760914845735886</id><published>2009-05-17T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:48:58.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc05.deviantart.com/fs30/f/2008/091/7/d/respect_yourself_by_alltimelowsx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 387px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc05.deviantart.com/fs30/f/2008/091/7/d/respect_yourself_by_alltimelowsx.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;moll, mark umbenhower &lt;3&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I thought she was all, be yourself and respect yourself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Your friend doesn't respect herself, and you're trying to be her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SO TRUE.&lt;/strong&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/5316308140899481630-7668760914845735886?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/7668760914845735886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=7668760914845735886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/7668760914845735886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/7668760914845735886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/05/moll-mark-umbenhower-3-says-i-thought.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-286028894775277136</id><published>2009-05-16T09:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:50:29.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 329px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px" alt="" src="http://fc00.deviantart.com/fs32/f/2008/221/2/2/shut_up_and_let_me_go_by_madame_dumb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Shut up and let me go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This hurts, but I can't show&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For the last time you had me in bits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now shut up and let me go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For fear of leaving in regret &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I changed this one when we first met&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now oh so easily your over me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Gone is love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's me that ought to be moving on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You're not adorable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was something unignorable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-286028894775277136?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/286028894775277136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=286028894775277136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/286028894775277136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/286028894775277136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/05/shut-up-and-let-me-go-this-hurts-but-i.html' title=''/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-5396889536205822611</id><published>2009-05-09T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T23:24:45.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>happy mommy's day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs43/i/2009/090/5/9/becoming_mother_by_JeremyShane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 362px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" alt="" src="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs43/i/2009/090/5/9/becoming_mother_by_JeremyShane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm sitting here&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking back to a time when I was young&lt;br /&gt;my memory is clear as day&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to the dishes clink&lt;br /&gt;you were downstairsyou would sing songs of praise&lt;br /&gt;and all the times we laughed with you&lt;br /&gt;and all the times that you stayed true to us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now we'll say, I said I thank you&lt;br /&gt;I'll always thank you&lt;br /&gt;more than you would know&lt;br /&gt;than I could ever show&lt;br /&gt;and I love you I'll always love you&lt;br /&gt;there's nothing I won't do to say these words to you&lt;br /&gt;that you're beautiful forever&lt;br /&gt;always, always and forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you were my mom, you were my dad&lt;br /&gt;the only thing I ever had was you, it's true&lt;br /&gt;and even when the times got hard you were there&lt;br /&gt;to let us know that we'd get through you showed me how to be a man&lt;br /&gt;you taught me how to understand the things people do&lt;br /&gt;you showed me how to love my god&lt;br /&gt;you taught me that not everyone knows the truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I thank you&lt;br /&gt;I'll always thank you&lt;br /&gt;more than you would know&lt;br /&gt;than I could ever show&lt;br /&gt;and I love you&lt;br /&gt;I'll always love you&lt;br /&gt;there's nothing I won't do to say these words to you&lt;br /&gt;that you will live forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;happy mother's day mom, I love you &lt;3&lt;/strong&gt;&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/5316308140899481630-5396889536205822611?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/5396889536205822611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=5396889536205822611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5396889536205822611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/5396889536205822611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-mommys-day.html' title='happy mommy&apos;s day'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-8037327373454361442</id><published>2009-05-08T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T20:55:14.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>watch your back.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am really sick of hearing and seeing stupid, immature sluts trying to get with guys who are in a relationship and/or emotionally unavailable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you know who you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first, I had to (and still have to) walk down my hallways for the past 3 years listening and watching to you act like child. I've heard so many disgusting stories about you. you is 16 almost 17 years old, and it's time to grow the fuck up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;secondly, I had to hear about you trying to break up one of the strongest relationships I've ever witnessed in my entire life. two people who are happily in love, never better, and you had to walk around school like you owned the fucking place telling people his girlfriend was "old news" and when he said he was at band practice, he was actually with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that really ticked me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thirdly, how dare you even try to start anything with me? you told me that if I wanted to talk, to come say it to your face... meanwhile, you're the one "arguing" with me over facebook. let's think about that for a minute, sweetie. let's see who the bigger person is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you're jealous because the guy you have interest for loves me, and not you. he's my exboyfriend and you need to calm the fuck down and realize he doesn't want your scrawny ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last, and certainly not least:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are TRYING to flirt with my best friend's boyfriend. they have been together for almost two years. do you really think you stand a chance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back&lt;br /&gt;the&lt;br /&gt;fuck&lt;br /&gt;off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-8037327373454361442?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/8037327373454361442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=8037327373454361442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/8037327373454361442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/8037327373454361442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/05/watch-your-back.html' title='watch your back.'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5316308140899481630.post-2921451316566742507</id><published>2009-05-07T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T14:59:28.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>welcome.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;so, i'm trying this site out. no idea what it's really like, but I've seen quite a few people on here.&lt;br /&gt;so we'll see I guess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have had so much boy drama lately, it's stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally have realized that I'm so fed up with moping around waiting for a miracle from him. I don't have options. I yell at him for all the shit he's done to me, and what does he do? he agrees. then he feels bad. but he doesn't want love. he doesn't want a relationship. he doesn't want me. I've been his recycled girl for the past two years, and I've had enough. I need something real, and someONE that I know won't treat me like garbage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have also realized that I don't want to be with someone whose going to analyze every little thing I do, every minute of everyday. I don't want someone whose going to argue with me because of his analyzations. I also don't want someone whose going to creep my blogs every 10 or so minutes because he's worried I might be writing about him. guess what, big shot. I AM.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also extremely frustrated with prom. finally I bought my tickets, so that's a checkmark off my worrying list. my following worries: dressing my date, getting there, and the prom party. my best friend, Mitch, and I are going together and he promised me we were going to go shopping for him today. but as per usual, he bailed on me. we don't have a limo or people to attend with, so hopefully mama C will let him borrow her car, and we can go. and to conclude, I think it's complete bullshit that stuck-up bitches in my school want to have "invite only" parties... grow up, we're graduating for fuck sakes. spread the love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't know what to do about being unemployed either. even though having a job while I'm doing afternoon co-op would be tough, I really need one. my dad is now laid off and spends his days and nights on the computer playing poker, while my mom cleans around his feet - we can't afford to buy anything. I could hardly afford to attend prom. my nana's generously paying for my hair to get done, thankfully. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I also want a job to help save for college. since my funds have disappeared into thin air because of my sister, I need to help my parents save up. I'd also rather not have to leave town for school, because I'm such a home-body. I've decided I want to teach communications technology, and do photography as a second job. I hope I can figure this out within the next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is just what's on my mind for now, I suppose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5316308140899481630-2921451316566742507?l=xniickaayy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/feeds/2921451316566742507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5316308140899481630&amp;postID=2921451316566742507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/2921451316566742507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5316308140899481630/posts/default/2921451316566742507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://xniickaayy.blogspot.com/2009/05/welcome.html' title='welcome.'/><author><name>nickikay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15758184104126830298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ly7qgxTXCQ/TdHqaPWc3nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PZ6QX1QOHhE/s220/IMG_2732%2Bedit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
