<?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-29048144</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:36:45.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it was a mistake to let you go</title><subtitle type='html'>i will hide my pain</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115994916252069110</id><published>2006-10-04T01:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T01:06:02.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bleah</title><content type='html'>hope i get a1 for science. i wanna get a1 for overall!!! todays maths paper sucked, although paper 1 was pretty okay. i made a couple of careless mistakes which seriously sucks, especially when i knew how to do the questions in the first place. suckish. ): and well paper 2 was okay, but i couldnt do inequalities and i think i really crapped those questions up. and i left a question about a rhombus blank! BLANK! 4 marks lost alr. damn sad. at least i constructed the triangle and the graph correctly. i hope. (that isnt very self assuring)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think that the eoys are weighing me down.~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115994916252069110?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115994916252069110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115994916252069110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115994916252069110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115994916252069110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/10/bleah.html' title='bleah'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115917557820510194</id><published>2006-09-25T02:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T02:12:58.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you didnt care</title><content type='html'>you will never know how hard i tried&lt;br /&gt;i gave you everything, now my soul has died&lt;br /&gt;you never knew how much i had to say&lt;br /&gt;you just took me for granted everyday&lt;br /&gt;you didnt listen, you just went on and on&lt;br /&gt;my closed mouth is the badge of silence that i don&lt;br /&gt;you didnt care tuppence about me, not a single bit&lt;br /&gt;people said i wasnt the one for you, the two of us didnt fit&lt;br /&gt;i insolently turned away, ignorance feigned&lt;br /&gt;i should have listened and ended this pain&lt;br /&gt;you may be upset, you may ask why&lt;br /&gt;but even so, i have to say, "goodbye."~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115917557820510194?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115917557820510194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115917557820510194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115917557820510194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115917557820510194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/09/you-didnt-care.html' title='you didnt care'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115865958541776759</id><published>2006-09-19T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T02:53:05.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>secrets i regret~</title><content type='html'>lets hope this one is okay. not shitty like the first attempt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secrets I regret~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit. It’s full. I’ll have to get another one then. Even though I already have seven. Seven boxes. Full of memories – pictures, notes, letters, flowers… Full of regrets too. Love notes I never gave him. All crammed in there. Bet he didn’t know I treasured every single memory, every single day that we shared. To him, I was just a 24/7 friend he could turn to anytime. Just a friend. To me, he was Mr. Right. He was there, smack in front of me, and I couldn’t get the courage to tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kinda regret introducing Kim to Reese. It just started with Reese bumping into Kim and me when we were at the mall. They didn’t know each other, so I introduced both of them to each other. They had a lot in common. They talked and talked. I just stood there quietly. I was happy they both were friends. The two of them only had one friend – me. Until I introduced them to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 weeks later, Reese and Kim approached me, hand in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kim said with abnormal enthusiasm, “We wanna tell you something.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese grinned ear to ear. “We’re going out. Isn’t that great?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear I heard my heart break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah…” I forced a smile. “I’m so happy for both of you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hated lying to my two best friends, but what could I do? Tell them I was jealous of Kim and that I loved Reese?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kim giggled. “In celebration, we decided to watch a movie. It’s on us. Popcorn, everything – you don’t have to pay a single cent. I mean, since it was you who introduced us to each other.” Reese whispered something in her ear and she giggled again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked away. I wanted to scream “get a room” and run home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you coming? Please do.” Reese put his hand on my shoulder. I felt that tingle I always feel when Reese touches me. Something in my heart made me say yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the cinema, I ended up sitting behind Reese and Kim because of a bunch of hooligans who shifted seats. Both of them were taller than me – I had no hope of seeing anything. But I wasn’t going to make a fuss and ruin things for them. I shut up and decided to be happy with my popcorn and soda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout the whole movie, I sat back and watched Reese and Kim make out. I could see everything. I even saw Reese touch her erotic areas. I was disgusted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disgusted at Reese for dumping me for Kim. Disgusted at Kim for agreeing to go out. Disgusted at myself for not telling Kim so she would know he was off-limits. Disgusted at myself for not telling Reese earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood up. They didn’t notice. They just continued kissing, so passionately…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t see! Sit down, missy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glared at the small boy in a baseball cap behind me and left the cinema. I didn’t look back once the whole way home. When I reached my front door, I heard people talking inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ve bought it. Quite big. Nice lawn.” Mum?&lt;br /&gt;“But it’s in Colorado!” Dad…&lt;br /&gt;“I’m sick of living here. Let’s get out of this god-forsaken place.” Mum always said she loved Florida…&lt;br /&gt;“Fine… we’ll move…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened the door, tears streaming down my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You didn’t ask me about this! I suppose you don’t care.” I ran up the stairs, into my room and cried into my pillow. I shouldn’t care about this. My best friends have each other. I don’t have them anymore. I might as well go to Colorado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 months passed. Everything’s packed; we’re leaving tomorrow. I’m looking through my boxes filled with memories of Reese. If I had a choice, I would still move. I wanna make Reese and Kim feel guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I totally went off them. Not surprisingly, they never asked me to go out with them anymore. I made a new circle of friends, but I wasn’t happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly Reese comes into my room. I close my boxes quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Em. Hi. Do you want a coke?” I stand up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” He looked around. “What’s in those boxes?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Em. Nothing. Just junk.” I go out of the room. What the hell is he doing here? Without Kim? I thought they couldn’t get their hands off each other. I get the coke and I go back to my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese was sitting on the floor. All the boxes were opened, their contents all over the floor. Love letters opened, notes read. Pictures scattered… He had a sad smile on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m just standing there, speechless. I drop the coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese stands up, grabs my hand and runs out of the room, out of the house, across the road, into his house, into his room. He opened a cupboard. Boxes fell out. So many… Lids fall off. Their contents spill out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pictures. Love notes. Flowers. Poems. Fluttering…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see my name on every single love note. My face on every single picture…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look into Reese’s eyes. Millions of questions were dashing through my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What about Kim?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese turned away. “Turns out she already had a boyfriend. A husband, more likely.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fall into his arms, sobbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But Reese…it’s too late.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pushed my chin up gently. I felt that tingle again. He lightly kisses my forehead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____________&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115865958541776759?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115865958541776759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115865958541776759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115865958541776759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115865958541776759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/09/secrets-i-regret_19.html' title='secrets i regret~'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115865922299963057</id><published>2006-09-19T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T02:47:03.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>secrets i regret~</title><content type='html'>here is a story i wrote in my free time. not that i have alot. this tory quite old alr la. enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secrets I regret~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit. It’s full. I’ll have to get another one then. Even though I already have seven. Seven boxes. Full of memories – pictures, notes, letters, flowers… Full of regrets too. Love notes I never gave him. All crammed in there. Bet he didn’t know I treasured every single memory, every single day that we shared. To him, I was just a 24/7 friend he could turn to anytime. Just a friend. To me, he was Mr. Right. He was there, smack in front of me, and I couldn’t get the courage to tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kinda regret introducing Kim to Reese. It just started with Reese bumping into Kim and me when we were at the mall. They didn’t know each other, so I introduced both of them to each other. They had a lot in common. They talked and talked. I just stood there quietly. I was happy they both were friends. The two of them only had one friend – me. Until I introduced them to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 weeks later, Reese and Kim approached me, hand in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kim said with abnormal enthusiasm, “We wanna tell you something.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese grinned ear to ear. “We’re going out. Isn’t that great?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear I heard my heart break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah…” I forced a smile. “I’m so happy for both of you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hated lying to my two best friends, but what could I do? Tell them I was jealous of Kim and that I loved Reese?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kim giggled. “In celebration, we decided to watch a movie. It’s on us. Popcorn, everything – you don’t have to pay a single cent. I mean, since it was you who introduced us to each other.” Reese whispered something in her ear and she giggled again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked away. I wanted to scream “get a room” and run home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you coming? Please do.” Reese put his hand on my shoulder. I felt that tingle I always feel when Reese touches me. Something in my heart made me say yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the cinema, I ended up sitting behind Reese and Kim because of a bunch of hooligans who shifted seats. Both of them were taller than me – I had no hope of seeing anything. But I wasn’t going to make a fuss and ruin things for them. I shut up and decided to be happy with my popcorn and soda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout the whole movie, I sat back and watched Reese and Kim make out. I could see everything. I even saw Reese touch her erotic areas. I was disgusted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disgusted at Reese for dumping me for Kim. Disgusted at Kim for agreeing to go out. Disgusted at myself for not telling Kim so she would know he was off-limits. Disgusted at myself for not telling Reese earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood up. They didn’t notice. They just continued kissing, so passionately…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t see! Sit down, missy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glared at the small boy in a baseball cap behind me and left the cinema. I didn’t look back once the whole way home. When I reached my front door, I heard people talking inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ve bought it. Quite big. Nice lawn.” Mum?&lt;br /&gt;“But it’s in Colorado!” Dad…&lt;br /&gt;“I’m sick of living here. Let’s get out of this god-forsaken place.” Mum always said she loved Florida…&lt;br /&gt;“Fine… we’ll move…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened the door, tears streaming down my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You didn’t ask me about this! I suppose you don’t care.” I ran up the stairs, into my room and cried into my pillow. I shouldn’t care about this. My best friends have each other. I don’t have them anymore. I might as well go to Colorado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 months passed. Everything’s packed; we’re leaving tomorrow. I’m looking through my boxes filled with memories of Reese. If I had a choice, I would still move. I wanna make Reese and Kim feel guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I totally went off them. Not surprisingly, they never asked me to go out with them anymore. I made a new circle of friends, but I wasn’t happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly Reese comes into my room. I close my boxes quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Em. Hi. Do you want a coke?” I stand up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” He looked around. “What’s in those boxes?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Em. Nothing. Just junk.” I go out of the room. What the hell is he doing here? Without Kim? I thought they couldn’t get their hands off each other. I get the coke and I go back to my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese was sitting on the floor. All the boxes were opened, their contents all over the floor. Love letters opened, notes read. Pictures scattered… He had a sad smile on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m just standing there, speechless. I drop the coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese stands up, grabs my hand and runs out of the room, out of the house, across the road, into his house, into his room. He opened a cupboard. Boxes fell out. So many… Lids fall off. Their contents spill out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pictures. Love notes. Flowers. Poems. Fluttering…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see my name on every single love note. My face on every single picture…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look into Reese’s eyes. Millions of questions were dashing through my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What about Kim?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese turned away. “Turns out she already had a boyfriend. A husband, more likely.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fall into his arms, sobbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But Reese…it’s too late.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pushed my chin up gently. I felt that tingle again. He lightly kisses my forehead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____________&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115865922299963057?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115865922299963057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115865922299963057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115865922299963057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115865922299963057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/09/secrets-i-regret.html' title='secrets i regret~'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115555011116731204</id><published>2006-08-14T03:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T03:08:31.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bleah-totally</title><content type='html'>i am so sick of some people. i am not gonna bother with anon things so names will be used. everything has a first, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my group had to act a skit out for lit. that thing was 50% of our final grades. and because of gracelynn everything was fucked up. she forgot her bloody lines you know. she just stood there going "em.. emm..." and ms chan was going "gracelynn..." and she just made up some crap that didnt make sense and everything just went downhill. i know she had a lot of lines to memorise but just because of that doesnt mean she has a right to forget them. it means she has to work harder. like DUH. and everybody else's lines came out just fine. just fine. and her's? what the hell. she said like "rabbits are healthy". i was just standing there thinking--"what the hell". i know she must be feelig bad about it and whatever but PUH LEASE IT IS HER OWN BLOODY FAULT ISNT IT? IT IS HER OWN FAULT SHE TOTALLY SCREWED EVERYTHING UP. IT IS HER OWN BLOODY FAULT THAT SHE EMBARASSED HERSELF IN FRONT OF 1A1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wanted to like get a1 for lit. but now, i think i might fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i do, it wont be my fault. it will be gracelynn's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115555011116731204?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115555011116731204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115555011116731204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115555011116731204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115555011116731204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/08/bleah-totally.html' title='bleah-totally'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115433853221901909</id><published>2006-07-31T02:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T02:35:32.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i just found out</title><content type='html'>i just found out that people actually hate me. i dont mean it in an egoistic way. just that i always thought everything to be neutral. i thought everyone was fine with me. but i just found out that people i am close to actually have a lot of things to say about me. good or bad. and like i am not gonna name anybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is this girl who doesnt like me but when i am in her prescence she doesnt say anything and when i am not around she starts bitching. its on her blog. she doesnt like the way i 'cling' to her. recently i have fallen out with a few of my good friends (but now everythings neutral) but i didnt fall out with her so i just talked to her, you know, the usual stuff and she calls me clingy just because i have no one now and i go with her. like what the shit. and recently she has been pretty much alone too and now she talks to me. and she said she likes to be liked. well, i liked her and she called me clingy. and i like to draw stuff. depressing stuff. and when i draw them i show them to her just for the sake of it and she doesnt like it and she doesnt like the way i pity myself well at least i have a proper reason and now she pities herself too and i dont like the way people judge others but never themselves. and she posts sbout gettign better at avoiding me. if i get better at my serve or a top spin like in tennis then that's something to blog about. not when you get better at dumping someone. its not worth recognition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why does she pity herself when there is nothing much to pity herself about? its not like her mum has breast cancer or something. not like my mum. and she doesnt have to spend everyday thinking about your mum -- "is she okay? is she dead?" she doesnt have to imagine what things will be like if one parent leaves. she doesnt have to psych herself for such a situation. whatever she has been through, i've beed through it too. i've been through more than her. waaaaaaaaaay more. and she cries about it. i dont cry about it. i have self control. i can control my emotions. somebody here cant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115433853221901909?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115433853221901909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115433853221901909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115433853221901909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115433853221901909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-just-found-out.html' title='i just found out'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115132631023127854</id><published>2006-06-26T05:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T05:51:50.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>school sucks</title><content type='html'>i hate school. i was crying last night because school is like a pair of handcuffs stealing my freedom and restricting me from life. it is the source of all my troubles. results and grades and friends and teachers and homework and stress and pressure and everything just weighs in on me and my sanity. i hate it. and there is all the crap that every teen has to face in life. like mensus. and my mum has breast cancer. she was diagnosed last year in may. it affected my psle so badly. i mean like--why me? but true--it has made me alot stronger and tougher, but alot more emotional too and i start to cry at minor things and i cant stop my feelings from pouring out and the dam broke and i cant fix it and i go to poetry to stop myself from going around the bend. i mean--i just cant feel anything without feeling something else. one thing leads to another and it never stops. and in the end i dont accomplish anything. i feel so worthless and useless and i wonder what my purpose is. i dont know what to do or what to say or what to think. and i am always making bad decisions. i always make a decision and then regret it. i hate decisions. everytime i have to think about something i force myself to stay calm because i know that if i push myself too hard to think i will start to cry because i dont want to think anymore and i dont want to make any decisions anymore because it hurts so much. see. all this started from a topic called school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont know what to do now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;such a secret place, the land of tears.~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115132631023127854?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115132631023127854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115132631023127854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115132631023127854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115132631023127854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/06/school-sucks.html' title='school sucks'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115132507380040357</id><published>2006-06-26T05:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T05:31:13.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the girl who cried in the night</title><content type='html'>every night as the sun went down&lt;br /&gt;a little girl would pray&lt;br /&gt;that all her troubles would be&lt;br /&gt;completely washed away&lt;br /&gt;she would lie there in the dark&lt;br /&gt;thinking that life's not fair&lt;br /&gt;why did everyone ignore her;&lt;br /&gt;look away without a care?&lt;br /&gt;the tears flowed freely now&lt;br /&gt;down her anguished face&lt;br /&gt;she had no purpose on this earth;&lt;br /&gt;she didnt have a place&lt;br /&gt;her grace, her status, her life and strength&lt;br /&gt;all began to drop&lt;br /&gt;she thought to herself,"just one more day-&lt;br /&gt;then all this pain will stop."~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115132507380040357?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115132507380040357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115132507380040357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115132507380040357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115132507380040357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/06/girl-who-cried-in-night.html' title='the girl who cried in the night'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-115059744463445109</id><published>2006-06-17T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T19:24:04.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why does everyone pretend?</title><content type='html'>i realy hate the way my elder sister keeps on putting on this rocky image when she doesnt possess it at all. it really irks me. i mean she might be interested in j rock but then she doesnt look j rocky or sing j rocky and why does she keep on acting? she acts and shes hiding what she really is and i am afraid that i will lose her someday. i can still remember those times when i was still in primary school when we could play together without the whole thing turning into a fight. those times when we really loved each other. those times when she accepted me and we could be comfortable in each other's prescence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess that i changed a lot too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-115059744463445109?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/115059744463445109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=115059744463445109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115059744463445109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/115059744463445109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/06/why-does-everyone-pretend.html' title='why does everyone pretend?'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29048144.post-114908393556793954</id><published>2006-05-31T06:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T06:58:55.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>la</title><content type='html'>i am only typing this so i van preview my blog. my other posts wun be so boring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29048144-114908393556793954?l=whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/feeds/114908393556793954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29048144&amp;postID=114908393556793954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/114908393556793954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29048144/posts/default/114908393556793954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whisperinthestorm.blogspot.com/2006/05/la.html' title='la'/><author><name>whisper in the storm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11058139415041767532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
