<?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-28414515</id><updated>2012-01-17T01:09:25.025-06:00</updated><category term='xo'/><title type='text'>your love is my nOOse</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>78</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-568482640440945942</id><published>2007-06-09T01:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T13:11:55.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'>you better bend before i go.</title><content type='html'>you've been known to stop hearts from across the room.&lt;br /&gt;you're reminded by men daily how beautiful you truly are.&lt;br /&gt;you never really needed the reassurance, but lately it seems to make the days a bit easier.&lt;br /&gt;you could have anyone you want...&lt;br /&gt;anyone, but him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you shrug off compliments left and right&lt;br /&gt;but deep in your mind you wish they came from his mouth&lt;br /&gt;"you're beautiful, can i take you out?"&lt;br /&gt;it rings like a dream come true,&lt;br /&gt;but the only thing you get is an excuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they've all told you to move on, the pain just isn't worth it&lt;br /&gt;but still you hold on, hoping that one day he'll prove them wrong.&lt;br /&gt;the days pass faster, but still you get nothing&lt;br /&gt;it might just be easier to stop hoping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"he must be one lucky guy"&lt;br /&gt;you're beginning to think it's all just an act&lt;br /&gt;"he better treat you right"&lt;br /&gt;and for the longest time you thought you were the lucky one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm afraid that he may have faked it&lt;br /&gt;it all makes sense in your mind, &lt;br /&gt;but he already had a structure&lt;br /&gt;and he's just not willing to bend for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you'll dust yourself off, yet again&lt;br /&gt;the tears will subside and hopefully the pain will end&lt;br /&gt;you'll build up an even stronger wall&lt;br /&gt;to further prevent anyone from entering&lt;br /&gt;because you know you'll just wind up here again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-568482640440945942?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/568482640440945942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=568482640440945942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/568482640440945942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/568482640440945942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/06/you-better-bend-before-i-go.html' title='you better bend before i go.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-6717331014363984625</id><published>2007-06-01T03:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T03:57:27.157-05:00</updated><title type='text'>do you know what it feels like?</title><content type='html'>tried getting this site to work on my sidekick... for some reason i thought this would be more heart felt coming straight from the heart from under the sheets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't help but rerun last nights events and wish that i could make them happen again tonight. it feels like our time is always cut short and i can never really get enough of you. i try to make the most of our time spent together because deep down i know that i really can't predict the next time i'll get to lay in bed next to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the only thing i hate about smoking is the smell it leaves behind on my fingertips.&lt;br /&gt;the only thing i hate about sleeping next to you is the smell you leave behind on my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i feel like we're never going to get to that point where we've got each other's habits figured out. predict each other's next move. finish each other's sentences. most of the time i think that's perfectly fine because that means that we'll never get the chance to get sick of each other. but even more of the time i'm sure that i couldn't get sick of you. i hate leaving because i know the minute i step outside i'm going to wish that i didn't have to... that i could just stay in your bed all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love that even twenty four hours later i can still feel your breath on my neck and your kiss on my skin. i can feel your fingertips running through my hair... it feels just as good as it did last night, but your absence still feels strongest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hold me like it's the last day.&lt;br /&gt;kiss me like you'll never get the chance to again.&lt;br /&gt;look at me like you're trying to memorize every curve of my face.&lt;br /&gt;but most importantly, tell me that you hope it's not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"baby, i'm not alright when you go. i'm not fine. please be all mine. i never want you to go because i am all yours, so please, be all mine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;br /&gt;she had an earthquake on her mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-6717331014363984625?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/6717331014363984625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=6717331014363984625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6717331014363984625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6717331014363984625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/06/do-you-know-what-it-feels-like.html' title='do you know what it feels like?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-2985349975699374346</id><published>2007-04-23T16:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T17:18:36.927-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i don't know you anymore.</title><content type='html'>second chances are extinct.&lt;br /&gt;it's too late to apologize.&lt;br /&gt;the words you said literally brought tears to my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;it was like an old wound being torn open&lt;br /&gt;i let it heal, but you needed to dig deeper.&lt;br /&gt;i don't think you ever understood just how much it meant to me.&lt;br /&gt;how important it all was to me&lt;br /&gt;i'm sorry we weren't able to work harder for it&lt;br /&gt;i'm sorry that you were too stubborn to see how great it all could have been.&lt;br /&gt;but it's all just a little too late now.&lt;br /&gt;too late for mending the wounds.&lt;br /&gt;too late for apologies.&lt;br /&gt;too late to get back what we left behind.&lt;br /&gt;i think it's time you learn to move on and just forget&lt;br /&gt;because i'm not just going to be waiting around until you realize.&lt;br /&gt;you chose the path you're on&lt;br /&gt;and despite my telling you that you deserved more&lt;br /&gt;you chose to keep walking down the same road.&lt;br /&gt;stop blaming me for any problems along the way.&lt;br /&gt;it wasn't my fault i made you rethink things that were beyond my control.&lt;br /&gt;accept that everything that lies before you was hand-picked by no one other than you.&lt;br /&gt;you wanted it. you've got it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-2985349975699374346?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/2985349975699374346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=2985349975699374346' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2985349975699374346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2985349975699374346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-dont-know-you-anymore.html' title='i don&apos;t know you anymore.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-472399758730964399</id><published>2007-04-18T02:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T02:33:23.902-05:00</updated><title type='text'>you.</title><content type='html'>you will never tell me i'm beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;you don't think i'm smart.&lt;br /&gt;you haven't caught on to my quirks.&lt;br /&gt;do you even notice the details!?&lt;br /&gt;i never want to take my eyes off you&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait to memorize each scar&amp;amp;freckle&lt;br /&gt;i'm afraid i'll fall faster than you&lt;br /&gt;you don't see it, do you!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish for rain just so you can stay in bed a little longer.&lt;br /&gt;i don't mind when you leave though. your scent is everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;i like the way you breathe and the way you smell.&lt;br /&gt;but most of all i like that when you hold me everything feels right again.&lt;br /&gt;like i'm finally where i belong... everything is in place.&lt;br /&gt;please, don't let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-472399758730964399?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/472399758730964399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=472399758730964399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/472399758730964399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/472399758730964399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/04/you.html' title='you.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-6363605866017376760</id><published>2007-04-15T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T23:53:02.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it's like you never...</title><content type='html'>i lost my sense of direction.&lt;br /&gt;real lies never last.&lt;br /&gt;the circles under my eyes will reveal that not only have i been worried,&lt;br /&gt;but i also haven't cared.&lt;br /&gt;i guess that doesn't say much for you.&lt;br /&gt;moving forward.&lt;br /&gt;it's always so much easier said than done.&lt;br /&gt;choke on your pride&lt;br /&gt;it doesn't impress me.&lt;br /&gt;you're never going to ask&lt;br /&gt;and i'm not going to be the one.&lt;br /&gt;i digress.&lt;br /&gt;but i'll only wait long enough for you to step up to the line.&lt;br /&gt;last chance.&lt;br /&gt;it's time to go all out.&lt;br /&gt;how much does it really mean to you!?&lt;br /&gt;because you're the only one that really doesn't notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://insomniaheart.livejournal.com"&gt;.xOx.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-6363605866017376760?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/6363605866017376760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=6363605866017376760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6363605866017376760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6363605866017376760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/04/its-like-you-never.html' title='it&apos;s like you never...'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-2423127074971123337</id><published>2007-04-03T03:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T03:27:21.628-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i just need to catch my breath before you take it away again.</title><content type='html'>seriously had the most rough day in a while.&lt;br /&gt;i just can't bring myself to even think it.&lt;br /&gt;i can't believe i worried.&lt;br /&gt;i'm being so stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enough for now.&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-2423127074971123337?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/2423127074971123337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=2423127074971123337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2423127074971123337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2423127074971123337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-just-need-to-catch-my-breath-before.html' title='i just need to catch my breath before you take it away again.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-583182475730859144</id><published>2007-04-02T00:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T00:42:14.327-05:00</updated><title type='text'>but he twists like whoa.</title><content type='html'>it's funny to me that going into this you thought you'd be the one getting hurt.&lt;br /&gt;i wish there was a way for me to tell you that i'm always the one that's left hurting in the end.&lt;br /&gt;not that you'd believe me or anything,&lt;br /&gt;but you really shouldn't worry.&lt;br /&gt;i don't think i'd ever be capable of hurting you&lt;br /&gt;because it amazes me how much you mean to me already.&lt;br /&gt;not that i could ever tell you so&lt;br /&gt;because i worry that i'd come on too strong&lt;br /&gt;and push you away.&lt;br /&gt;i still don't even know the basics,&lt;br /&gt;but i'd love to lock you in my room and learn all about them.&lt;br /&gt;the ball is in your court.&lt;br /&gt;you can take as much or as little.&lt;br /&gt;i'm leaving myself vulnerable and very susceptible to pain,&lt;br /&gt;but i think you're worth it.&lt;br /&gt;something about you tells me to take a chance,&lt;br /&gt;i just wish i knew how you felt exactly.&lt;br /&gt;i guess it's all just a matter of time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;br /&gt;here i go again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-583182475730859144?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/583182475730859144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=583182475730859144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/583182475730859144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/583182475730859144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/04/but-he-twists-like-whoa.html' title='but he twists like whoa.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-7997238931569460165</id><published>2007-03-24T14:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T14:42:32.809-05:00</updated><title type='text'>he has an honest voice.</title><content type='html'>you don't know me.&lt;br /&gt;you don't even care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://insomniaheart.livejournal.com"&gt;.xOx.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i'll go where no one knows my name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-7997238931569460165?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/7997238931569460165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=7997238931569460165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7997238931569460165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7997238931569460165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/03/he-has-honest-voice.html' title='he has an honest voice.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-5219704442841000374</id><published>2007-03-18T23:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T23:57:30.318-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it all seems to make sense</title><content type='html'>slightly tipsy. comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;not so much that i'm forgetting,&lt;br /&gt;but enough to know what i want.&lt;br /&gt;the fireplace was never quite as fulfilling as when it's shared with someone.&lt;br /&gt;i never could light a good fire,&lt;br /&gt;but i'm hoping you can change that.&lt;br /&gt;i can't believe how quickly i've forgotten,&lt;br /&gt;that i didn't want to end up down this route.&lt;br /&gt;it's not you, really... it's me.&lt;br /&gt;i always let go too quickly,&lt;br /&gt;let my guard down after a few promises.&lt;br /&gt;i wasn't going to allow myself to get hurt again,&lt;br /&gt;but i think it's all worth it for one night with you.&lt;br /&gt;i can't believe i'm saying that,&lt;br /&gt;i didn't think it was possible again.&lt;br /&gt;you make me forget everything&lt;br /&gt;it's just you and me.&lt;br /&gt;i've never been so care free&lt;br /&gt;i've never felt so on top of the world&lt;br /&gt;like... it's all possible.&lt;br /&gt;anything i set my mind to.&lt;br /&gt;i wish i was capable of making you feel the same way.&lt;br /&gt;i don't think i am,&lt;br /&gt;but i sure will try my best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-5219704442841000374?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5219704442841000374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=5219704442841000374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5219704442841000374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5219704442841000374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/03/it-all-seems-to-make-sense.html' title='it all seems to make sense'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-844984575431972016</id><published>2007-03-09T04:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-09T04:16:11.715-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm not letting myself fall...</title><content type='html'>i don't want to know that you're going to break my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://insomniaheart.livejournal.com"&gt;.xOx.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want you to be different.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-844984575431972016?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/844984575431972016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=844984575431972016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/844984575431972016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/844984575431972016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/03/im-not-letting-myself-fall.html' title='i&apos;m not letting myself fall...'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-2093798628357124567</id><published>2007-03-08T04:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T04:57:13.690-06:00</updated><title type='text'>skin deep.</title><content type='html'>i want someone who can wake up next to me and despite last night's running make up still think i'm beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;i want the "new relationship" feelings to last when it's comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;i don't ever want it to be routine.&lt;br /&gt;i don't ever want you to stop doing what you like to do just for me.&lt;br /&gt;i don't know that you'd always have time to spend with me, but i'm sure you'd try your best.&lt;br /&gt;i want you to love &amp; respect me.&lt;br /&gt;i want you to know &amp;amp; hold me.&lt;br /&gt;i don't think i'm being too demanding, but maybe i'm crossing a line.&lt;br /&gt;truth is, i want you to see me how i want you to see me. [make sense!?]&lt;br /&gt;i don't want to bend over backwards anymore.&lt;br /&gt;i don't want to do the chasing.&lt;br /&gt;i don't want lies or pain anymore.&lt;br /&gt;i want to trust in you.&lt;br /&gt;please, don't let me down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-2093798628357124567?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/2093798628357124567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=2093798628357124567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2093798628357124567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2093798628357124567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/03/skin-deep.html' title='skin deep.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-5061630956904180881</id><published>2007-03-04T02:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T02:36:56.220-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it's all starting to get really foggy.</title><content type='html'>i just want you to know who i am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know what exactly it is about you that i can't get off my mind. i can't figure out why you were put there... and why now!? i can't figure out why i want to believe in you with everything in me. but i can't help but go in with a cautious mind and fearful heart. i've been here before... and each time it's left me more broken than the last. i'm not sure that i could handle it another time so forgive me for trying to maneuver with baby steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i feel like it's all just too good to be true. do fantasies and fairy tales stilly happen!? because i was sure that i had grown out of believing... but my inner child tries to convince me otherwise...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stuck in the battle between heart and mind... the only problem is that for once they are actually agreeing. what's holding me back then!? please, don't let me be wrong again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;br /&gt;the moment we decided...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-5061630956904180881?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5061630956904180881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=5061630956904180881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5061630956904180881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5061630956904180881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/03/its-all-starting-to-get-really-foggy.html' title='it&apos;s all starting to get really foggy.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-3566038889274122438</id><published>2007-02-28T04:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T04:04:09.778-06:00</updated><title type='text'>a work, unfinished, as always.</title><content type='html'>she doesn't sleep. the day's events are too much to escape. she looks to you in hopes that you'll save her. it's not until then that she realizes how alone she truly is. your voice haunts her as she tries to drift away, but it's the only thing keeping her from the blade. she never quite found her way with a pen like you did. the words still sting with each read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;i wish i could finish it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-3566038889274122438?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/3566038889274122438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=3566038889274122438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3566038889274122438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3566038889274122438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/work-unfinished-as-always.html' title='a work, unfinished, as always.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-5902092136011966184</id><published>2007-02-27T03:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T12:14:08.752-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='xo'/><title type='text'>i'm supposed to love you.</title><content type='html'>was that actually a real smile i saw you flashing?&lt;br /&gt;it's hard to believe that something other than her can make you happy.&lt;br /&gt;actually, more times than not, she's the cause of your misery&lt;br /&gt;but that's your habit&lt;br /&gt;and you haven't found a way to kick it.&lt;br /&gt;i only understand this concept because that's the way i feel about you.&lt;br /&gt;my sole purpose.&lt;br /&gt;my reason for thriving.&lt;br /&gt;my obsession.&lt;br /&gt;"it's a strange way of saying that i know i'm supposed to love you"&lt;br /&gt;i'm supposed to love you.&lt;br /&gt;it's funny because i didn't look at it like that until this very moment.&lt;br /&gt;i was meant to love you&lt;br /&gt;it's the only explanation for the pain and happiness you're capable of bringing me.&lt;br /&gt;i'm supposed to love you.&lt;br /&gt;i'm supposed to love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;br /&gt;xox?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-5902092136011966184?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5902092136011966184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=5902092136011966184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5902092136011966184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5902092136011966184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/im-supposed-to-love-you.html' title='i&apos;m supposed to love you.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-6734510381281291088</id><published>2007-02-23T02:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T03:11:07.277-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='xo'/><title type='text'>3..2..1.. and i'm having fun.</title><content type='html'>i thought i knew you.&lt;br /&gt;you proved me wrong&lt;br /&gt;this is one argument i wish i would've won.&lt;br /&gt;"you're right, i give up"&lt;br /&gt;i'd give anything to hear those words.&lt;br /&gt;but you won't be saying them&lt;br /&gt;because both you and i know how wrong i've been&lt;br /&gt;wrong to have protected you&lt;br /&gt;wrong to have believed.&lt;br /&gt;wrong to have hoped&lt;br /&gt;that things would change&lt;br /&gt;be different... for once.&lt;br /&gt;the sun has set&lt;br /&gt;and it will never come up again&lt;br /&gt;your days will remain dark and rainy&lt;br /&gt;how nocturnal can you get?&lt;br /&gt;read your final words again,&lt;br /&gt;is this really how you want it all to end?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now i'm the one who can't close her eyes&lt;br /&gt;for fear that i'll be reminded of you again.&lt;br /&gt;one more shot.&lt;br /&gt;one more hit.&lt;br /&gt;anything to numb the pain.&lt;br /&gt;it makes your face fade quickly.&lt;br /&gt;this time, i don't think you're the one who needs rescuing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-6734510381281291088?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/6734510381281291088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=6734510381281291088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6734510381281291088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6734510381281291088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/321-and-im-having-fun.html' title='3..2..1.. and i&apos;m having fun.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-2679709996013117619</id><published>2007-02-22T02:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T02:12:19.478-06:00</updated><title type='text'>no news is good news.</title><content type='html'>my ice cream was too cold today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-2679709996013117619?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/2679709996013117619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=2679709996013117619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2679709996013117619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/2679709996013117619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/no-news-is-good-news.html' title='no news is good news.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-3560590133522472908</id><published>2007-02-12T04:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T01:08:11.757-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='xo'/><title type='text'>serenaded by the terror of you</title><content type='html'>i'd write it all over the fields if that's what it takes to get you to notice.&lt;br /&gt;"a dollar's a penny to you."&lt;br /&gt;my fingertips are sore.&lt;br /&gt;i'm not sure if that's from trying to type my feelings&lt;br /&gt;or this new hobby i've picked up.&lt;br /&gt;actually, i'm hoping it's more than a hobby.&lt;br /&gt;kind of how i hope that sometimes you weren't a habit.&lt;br /&gt;i'm not saying that's all that you are,&lt;br /&gt;but you sure are hard to quit.&lt;br /&gt;there's a picture of a smile on my face&lt;br /&gt;it hasn't been real since we last spoke.&lt;br /&gt;you're not realizing what it would take to sink this ship.&lt;br /&gt;it's more than walking planks and pirates.&lt;br /&gt;but it's less than what keeps me away from "us".&lt;br /&gt;5am blues&lt;br /&gt;but your green keeps you away.&lt;br /&gt;only every other word begins to register.&lt;br /&gt;in with the bad&lt;br /&gt;out with the good&lt;br /&gt;that's what it's come down to.&lt;br /&gt;do you remember those words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-3560590133522472908?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/3560590133522472908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=3560590133522472908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3560590133522472908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3560590133522472908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/serenaded-by-terror-of-you.html' title='serenaded by the terror of you'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-5544616547867216653</id><published>2007-02-08T00:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T02:41:16.061-06:00</updated><title type='text'>whisper sweet somethings</title><content type='html'>it felt like it hasn't changed. like you were still the same person and you actually knew me. knowing you rarely make eye contact, i think my legs went completely numb when your eyes caught mine. in a room surrounded by people and loud bass, all i could focus on was me and you and it was completely silent. the show was just for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait for the days when you could sit in a cafe without being bothered by too many people. hopefully i'll stumble upon you during those days and strike up a conversation that doesn't begin with "i love you." i'd tell you how much i appreciated your words always being there because no matter how i was feeling there was always a sentence just waiting to make everything alright again. i don't think i will ever be able to express to you how much your words have affected me. even if i could articulate it, i'm not sure that you'd appreciate it. i hope you would. i don't take any of it for granted and thank you so much for doing what you do and not letting it get to your head [too much].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;signing off.&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-5544616547867216653?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5544616547867216653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=5544616547867216653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5544616547867216653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5544616547867216653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/whisper-sweet-somethings.html' title='whisper sweet somethings'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-7408998670219375704</id><published>2007-02-05T02:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T02:41:16.247-06:00</updated><title type='text'>you vs. me. saying vs. doing</title><content type='html'>you're so good at talking about your accomplishments and future plans, but when are you actually going to start acting on them? it's so easy for you to put me down and tell me what i'm incapable of doing. it may not seem like it now, but i've got big plans in store. i'm not going to just talk up a storm and then watch my life pass me by. one day you're going to regret ever doubting me and you'll swallow those words whole. i'm going to see my dreams come true... or i'm going to die trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;updates...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've got many shows planned for the upcomming months and even this summer. it's going to be a good year. i'm going to see fob and incubus on tuesday! i'm glad those shows worked out for me. it's going to be unbelievable. those are 2 stubs i'm going to cherish forever. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;current book: "catcher in the rye"&lt;br /&gt;current music: &lt;em&gt;Infinity on High&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;current worry: life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.xOx.&lt;br /&gt;i love you, but fuck you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-7408998670219375704?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/7408998670219375704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=7408998670219375704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7408998670219375704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7408998670219375704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/you-vs-me-saying-vs-doing.html' title='you vs. me. saying vs. doing'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-6802068405205365718</id><published>2007-02-02T02:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T02:53:50.365-06:00</updated><title type='text'>come on, bring it.</title><content type='html'>feeling as of late: you make my heart beat.&lt;br /&gt;please, don't let it skip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;update @ &lt;a href="http://insomniaheart.livejournal.com"&gt;http://insomniaheart.livejournal.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how many words can one think of, really?&lt;br /&gt;.xx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-6802068405205365718?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/6802068405205365718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=6802068405205365718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6802068405205365718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6802068405205365718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/02/come-on-bring-it.html' title='come on, bring it.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-7960320079212488337</id><published>2007-01-31T01:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T01:54:11.967-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i finally found myself... in your bed.</title><content type='html'>it's hard for me to even listen to that song.&lt;br /&gt;the one that reminds me of the hours i used to spend&lt;br /&gt;laying on your bed&lt;br /&gt;twirling my hair&lt;br /&gt;as you studied intently for the next day's classes.&lt;br /&gt;you'd look over and smile&lt;br /&gt;you liked having me on your bed&lt;br /&gt;and i loved that you did.&lt;br /&gt;it was my home away from home.&lt;br /&gt;i loved being your distraction&lt;br /&gt;although, you never made me feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;i liked that you'd clear your schedule just for me.&lt;br /&gt;i talked a lot.&lt;br /&gt;i know.&lt;br /&gt;but you listened to every word.&lt;br /&gt;even when you didn't really want&lt;br /&gt;to hear what i was saying.&lt;br /&gt;i never would've known&lt;br /&gt;all that i know now&lt;br /&gt;if i had not met you.&lt;br /&gt;thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;x.x.x.x&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-7960320079212488337?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/7960320079212488337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=7960320079212488337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7960320079212488337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7960320079212488337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-finally-found-mysel-in-your-bed.html' title='i finally found myself... in your bed.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-5059009986622226408</id><published>2007-01-30T03:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T03:33:13.038-06:00</updated><title type='text'>flash.flash.flash.repeat.</title><content type='html'>i watch as they gracefully fall to the ground&lt;br /&gt;so desperately wishing i was on my back&lt;br /&gt;waving my arms &amp;amp; legs around&lt;br /&gt;as they fell to my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;it glistens as the street lights&lt;br /&gt;begin to come on&lt;br /&gt;hours pass, but i just can't seem&lt;br /&gt;to unglue myself from the ground.&lt;br /&gt;it all looks much clearer from the bottom&lt;br /&gt;it's a point of view&lt;br /&gt;i don't see much anymore.&lt;br /&gt;if i could just lie down&lt;br /&gt;once more&lt;br /&gt;maybe everything would be&lt;br /&gt;in perspective.&lt;br /&gt;i could pick myself up&lt;br /&gt;and look down&lt;br /&gt;upon the beauty&lt;br /&gt;i was once able to create.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx.oo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-5059009986622226408?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5059009986622226408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=5059009986622226408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5059009986622226408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5059009986622226408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/flashflashflashrepeat.html' title='flash.flash.flash.repeat.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-4111434445910577824</id><published>2007-01-28T05:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T05:27:32.378-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i want to hide in your song.</title><content type='html'>sing me to sleep&lt;br /&gt;make my heart worry-free&lt;br /&gt;i'm thinking of things that only your voice can do to me&lt;br /&gt;it's been far too long&lt;br /&gt;speak directly to my heart&lt;br /&gt;your words pump through my veins&lt;br /&gt;it's the only time i really know everything will be ok&lt;br /&gt;i never wanted to let go&lt;br /&gt;all good notes come to an end&lt;br /&gt;sing to me again.&lt;br /&gt;it's much to hard to believe&lt;br /&gt;that your last words spoken to me&lt;br /&gt;weren't "come to me"&lt;br /&gt;but "stay forever with me"&lt;br /&gt;my answer is yes.&lt;br /&gt;i'd go anywhere with you.&lt;br /&gt;don't let the words end&lt;br /&gt;i need to keep breathing again&lt;br /&gt;speak to me in songs&lt;br /&gt;i'll forever be your audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;x.00.x&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-4111434445910577824?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/4111434445910577824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=4111434445910577824' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/4111434445910577824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/4111434445910577824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-want-to-hide-in-your-song.html' title='i want to hide in your song.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-294083984246520257</id><published>2007-01-24T02:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T02:43:44.889-06:00</updated><title type='text'>thanks for the memories.</title><content type='html'>remember that one time we had a phone conversation completely in whispers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ex.oh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-294083984246520257?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/294083984246520257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=294083984246520257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/294083984246520257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/294083984246520257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/thanks-for-memories.html' title='thanks for the memories.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-3748271805964006596</id><published>2007-01-18T00:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T14:33:31.958-06:00</updated><title type='text'>too little. too late. [story of my life]</title><content type='html'>please understand, it wasn't just goodbye it was "i can't stand you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know i've written about this before, but i also know that you probably won't ever read any of this in a million years... i guess i'm just hoping that one day you'll stumble upon it and realize that it's meant for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't think anyone has ever appreciated me quite like you did and i'm stupid for taking so long to realize it. i know it's too late for apologies... i know it's too late for anything... but maybe someday this will mean something. [at least i hope it will] it's hard to think back on the hours we spent together laughing, studying, just talking... definitely not sleeping... and just think that they're all gone. i'm not quite sure who is to blame for it all ending, but i don't think that matters anymore. i wanted to say that i really miss you. i guess it's true that you don't really know what you've got until it's gone. it's sad really. not only did you really appreciate me, but you genuinely listened to everything that i had to say... even about the most unimportant topics. [i know i talk about a lot of those] thing is, you didn't care what it was that i was talking about, you found it brilliant either way... and maybe i'm exaggerating slightly, but it seemed that way to me. i can't believe that i could have ever let go of something like that. you made me feel smarter than anyone has ever made me feel... and smarter than i have ever felt in my life. i felt like i was worth something... like i was going to accomplish something big in life. i didn't feel lost when i was talking to you... i felt like everything was right where it should be. and i know i never told this to you when it actually mattered, i know that bothered you... i guess if i could redo it all over again, i'd tell you how much i really did appreciate you and how much your friendship meant to me. you were a true friend. it's odd because we didn't really know each other for that long, but you knew me better than anyone else at that moment. i know we're different people now and we have no idea what's going on in each other's lives... but i still think you'd know me better than anyone else in my life. it was comforting too. and i felt like i could always confide in you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never had to pretend around you. i felt that way from the start [well, maybe a little bit after the start because we both know how it all began :)] i wish i could have been more straightforward.. i know you do too. i guess i've just learned to guard myself because i never want to be dependent on anyone else. i know you quickly learned that... and you didn't push it any further. thank you for that. thanks for your understanding and thanks for always being there. i would take it all back if i could... because i know that you're one person i wish i could have had in my life forever. i know you're going to go on and accomplish wonderful things in life, i've known this for a very long time... i don't think i need to wish you the best, because i think you're all set... you've got everything you need... and i'm glad to know that you'll be successful. you deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i miss your sarcasm. i miss our silliness. i miss your jokey-jokes. i miss watching movies. i miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ex's and oh's.&lt;br /&gt;losing you is my only regret.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-3748271805964006596?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/3748271805964006596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=3748271805964006596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3748271805964006596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3748271805964006596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/too-little-too-late-story-of-my-life.html' title='too little. too late. [story of my life]'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-5850996345454840750</id><published>2007-01-16T02:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T02:42:15.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>all we are is too fast for love.</title><content type='html'>go ahead and hit repeat because it's bound to happen again. i promised myself that i'd stop and forget everything. i think i'm really going to stick to it this time ... i can't disappoint myself again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you don't strike me as the type that would read any of this. good. i'm glad to know that my words aren't being heard by the person they're meant for. just goes to show you how stupid i've actually been this whole time. and what hurts even more is that i can't even be mad at you. sometimes you just don't make any sense to me at all... but most of the time you make more sense than anyone else i know. i'm not quite sure how this is possible. i really wish you were in the know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ex's and oh's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-5850996345454840750?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5850996345454840750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=5850996345454840750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5850996345454840750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5850996345454840750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/all-we-are-is-too-fast-for-love.html' title='all we are is too fast for love.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-6945669338979258661</id><published>2007-01-15T03:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T03:23:47.396-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it's like you're always performing.</title><content type='html'>for someone who claims to be so unhappy/unloved, you sure do smile a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-6945669338979258661?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/6945669338979258661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=6945669338979258661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6945669338979258661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/6945669338979258661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/its-like-youre-always-performing.html' title='it&apos;s like you&apos;re always performing.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-4573828962583651778</id><published>2007-01-11T23:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T23:34:35.662-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the lies i weave are oh so intricate.</title><content type='html'>vacation=amazing. i have had so much fun! it's sad that tomorrow will be my last day here, but i think in a way i'm excited to be getting back to life as "usual". today we spent a few hours in cocoa beach shopping... i love that place! but everytime i go there i wish i knew how to surf! yesterday we spent the day at sea world. everytime i go back there i feel like a kid again... and i never get sick of it. i love that place! and it always makes me want to be an animal trainer. how awesome would that be?? we've had a few cool days here [and by cool i mean like 60 degrees] yes, i know it's not the 20 degrees that chicago is getting right now, but it was too cold to lay out in the sun. i think i caught a few rays though. tomorrow we're spending the whole day at the beach/pool and i can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one thing i'm really going to miss [and the thing i always miss most when i leave florida] is the sound of the ocean. i love being able to sit on the balcony and just listen to the waves crashing on the beach. the weather has been amazing! we only got one day of rain and that was in the late afternoon and it passed really quickly. every other day has been sunny with a few clouds! the 20 degree chicago weather is going to be such a shock!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not much else to report. i've been getting to bed really early while i've been here... i guess that's good for a change. more later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;and as i sit here all i can think about is what i'd do to have you sitting next to me sharing the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-4573828962583651778?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/4573828962583651778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=4573828962583651778' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/4573828962583651778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/4573828962583651778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/lies-i-weave-are-oh-so-intricate.html' title='the lies i weave are oh so intricate.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-8795444494441003510</id><published>2007-01-02T01:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T01:53:50.532-06:00</updated><title type='text'>is your love waterproof?</title><content type='html'>'cuz i believe i just cried an ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm already bored with the new year. finished my long weekend of working... i'm exhausted. it's going to feel so nice not having to wake up at 6am tomorrow [well... this] morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i'm crazy for trying to keep up with two journals, but i love them both for different reasons. so i'll just continue...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been completely addicted to the new A.F.I cd. it's been rockin' my soul and i just can't get enough. i love it when i can listen to a cd all the way through and pick up on new things with each listen. each cd is such an adventure for me. i know... i need help. but music is my heroine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just 3 more days and i'll be heading down south... yay Florida. i can't wait! it's going to be so much fun. my roommate and i are driving down there on friday! so it's a road trip too. i love road trips. i'll probably be thinking differently after the 15 hr. drive though, won't i? oh well... it should be fun. i've got to start making some cd's for the drive. :) and it'll be nice to have that time off work and just a little break before i get back into the swing of things at school. and hopefully i get a tan... that's pretty much the one thing i'm concerned about. haha... i know... sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm almost done reading my book. i know... i've been completely dragging on it. i don't want to finish it though. i really like this book and i'm going to be very sad when i'm not reading it anymore. :( i'm going to finish tonight and then start on my next one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i'm gonna go ahead and get started on that. more updates at &lt;a href="http://insomniaheart.livejournal.com"&gt;http://insomniaheart.livejournal.com&lt;/a&gt; have a great new year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;my life consists of lip gloss and pens aside from thinking about the next thing that will make you light up. everyday feels exactly the same, but your smiles are like snowflakes... no two are exactly alike. i haven't quite figured out what each one means, but i'm having fun deciphering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-8795444494441003510?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/8795444494441003510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=8795444494441003510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/8795444494441003510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/8795444494441003510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/is-your-love-waterproof.html' title='is your love waterproof?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-7610215760717078654</id><published>2006-12-28T22:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T22:47:56.201-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i still love to wash in your old bathwater</title><content type='html'>sometimes i wish you could read my mind.&lt;br /&gt;not because i'm dying for you to know the way i feel about you,&lt;br /&gt;but because that'd give us a connection that no one else had.&lt;br /&gt;which i don't doubt that we already do...&lt;br /&gt;except you're blinded by the shadows.&lt;br /&gt;the light isn't within reach&lt;br /&gt;you tend to stay on the safe path.&lt;br /&gt;you're afraid to take the less travelled one.&lt;br /&gt;i know you're intrigued&lt;br /&gt;i'm still just figuring out if that's as far as it goes.&lt;br /&gt;it's worth it...&lt;br /&gt;even if just for that one-of-a-kind feeling&lt;br /&gt;i'm capable.&lt;br /&gt;are you willing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ex's &amp; oh's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-7610215760717078654?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/7610215760717078654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=7610215760717078654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7610215760717078654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/7610215760717078654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-still-love-to-wash-in-your-old.html' title='i still love to wash in your old bathwater'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-3474929653922132901</id><published>2006-12-14T20:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T20:34:58.510-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i'll always be your jiminy cricket</title><content type='html'>except you're too far to even notice.&lt;br /&gt;you're lost... and you don't even have a map.&lt;br /&gt;stop&amp;ask for directions. no one wants to help.&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i don't know what to tell you either.&lt;br /&gt;but i know it will be ok in the end.&lt;br /&gt;find your way back...&lt;br /&gt;like you always do.&lt;br /&gt;well, at least, you did&lt;br /&gt;things still haven't changed.&lt;br /&gt;except that's a complete lie.&lt;br /&gt;everything is changing, while you stand still&lt;br /&gt;i know that's how you feel.&lt;br /&gt;give in to change...&lt;br /&gt;you might be happy for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;i wish i had a drop dead fred.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-3474929653922132901?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/3474929653922132901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=3474929653922132901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3474929653922132901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/3474929653922132901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/12/ill-always-be-your-jiminy-cricket.html' title='i&apos;ll always be your jiminy cricket'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-5337683000985065649</id><published>2006-12-09T03:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-09T04:11:37.132-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i wasn't tagged, but i still want to give it a shot...</title><content type='html'>20 random facts about me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. i worry about people who don't give a shit about me way too much.&lt;br /&gt;2. i don't want to have a job that's stagnant and 9-5. i want to be able to travel the world. preferrably something involving music... but i'm afraid that i'll never get the chance.&lt;br /&gt;3. when i get a new cd, i listen to it constantly. so much that my roommate gets sick of it before i do... and i can hear her "ugh" everytime the first track starts.&lt;br /&gt;4. i think i may be the only person who believes in me. i seem to be surrounded by people who try to keep me down and tell me my dreams are unrealistic. even though i believe in myself, i'm afraid the downers get to me more than i do.&lt;br /&gt;5. i want more than anything to find someone who will kiss my forehead, lay in bed with me, tell me i'm amazing, and pick out my minute details that not many people see and love them.&lt;br /&gt;6. i have a horrible memory. i'm constantly making lists of things that i need to do/buy/get. i'm so afraid of forgetting something that i have lists everywhere. [sadly, sometimes i forget where i put the list]&lt;br /&gt;7. i always fall for someone who would never be with me.&lt;br /&gt;8. i love people-watching. especially when they're unaware that i'm observing them. i love seeing a person be completely real.&lt;br /&gt;9. i am obsessively in love with someone that i will more than likely never see again.&lt;br /&gt;10. the only time i am ever truly happy is when i'm at a concert/music event. when my heart starts beating along with the bass... when the melody races from my feet through my veins... when my throat is sore from singing at the top of my lungs... when pain no longer is a factor... when the sweat is stinging my pores... i'd do it every night for the rest of my life if i could. i just want to be enveloped by that atmosphere... constantly.forever.&lt;br /&gt;11. sometimes, i don't think i want to go to school anymore.&lt;br /&gt;12. i'm afraid of losing everything that i've written.&lt;br /&gt;13. i am envious of the people who know exactly what they want in their life and put forth their all and go for it. [including dropping anything that may be standing in the way]&lt;br /&gt;14. i wish i still played an instrument. i really want to learn to play guitar.&lt;br /&gt;15. i love shopping with my roommate. i love everything that she's taught me [bust a cap in your ass :)] i love staying up late with her and getting knocked at. i love that she's accepted me and finds me somewhat fun&amp;interesting and worth spending time with. i love that she goes to concerts with me. i hate that i don't think i'll ever be able to express to her how much i really do love&amp;amp;appreciate her and everything that she does for me.&lt;br /&gt;16. i wish that i had more time to read books that i actually want to read and not just lame textbooks for class.&lt;br /&gt;17. my new year's resolution will be to get back into my "better" study habits and keep up on all my school work... OH and go to more concerts. :)&lt;br /&gt;18. i miss my parents like crazy. at times i wish that i was still living with them, but when i go back there all i can think about is being back at my apartment. sometimes i worry that they're mad at me for leaving at such an early age.&lt;br /&gt;19. i'm afraid i'll end up a terrible disappointment to my parents.&lt;br /&gt;20. i want to get more tattoos, but i want them all to tell a story of a certain time in my life... so that every time i look at them it can be like a reminder of an obstacle that i've tackled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wow, so i actually got 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-5337683000985065649?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5337683000985065649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=5337683000985065649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5337683000985065649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/5337683000985065649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-wasnt-tagged-but-i-still-want-to-give.html' title='i wasn&apos;t tagged, but i still want to give it a shot...'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-203798532749116120</id><published>2006-12-07T01:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T01:13:31.861-06:00</updated><title type='text'>you're my butterfly.</title><content type='html'>slipping grips&lt;br /&gt;against sliding hips.&lt;br /&gt;we were all so envious&lt;br /&gt;"all good things must come to an end"&lt;br /&gt;but we held on for dear life.&lt;br /&gt;the dark has never felt more lonely&lt;br /&gt;even though you're here, i can't really see.&lt;br /&gt;when the silence surrounds me,&lt;br /&gt;all i wish for is your voice.&lt;br /&gt;even though you're far away,&lt;br /&gt;i can still hear&amp;amp;feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is all beginning to sound too sappy.&lt;br /&gt;i better stop.&lt;br /&gt;i just wanted you to know i'm thinking of you.&lt;br /&gt;and waiting until the day you're back here with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;i miss you.&lt;br /&gt;come back soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-203798532749116120?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/203798532749116120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=203798532749116120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/203798532749116120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/203798532749116120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/12/slipping-grips-against-sliding-hips.html' title='you&apos;re my butterfly.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-8129309811013552679</id><published>2006-12-04T01:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T21:54:13.619-06:00</updated><title type='text'>a penny for your thoughts, a nickle for your lies.</title><content type='html'>maybe we're more broken than we allow anyone to see.&lt;br /&gt;after all, the things worth knowing are usually what we hide first.&lt;br /&gt;steps back but hands forward...&lt;br /&gt;when will you be ready to let go?&lt;br /&gt;you're not my type anyways.&lt;br /&gt;perfect is so overrated.&lt;br /&gt;the lies are comfortable because they keep reality at a distance&lt;br /&gt;the sun rises and a new day begins, but we find ourselves in the same hole.&lt;br /&gt;digging deeper and not getting out&lt;br /&gt;where are the hands to help you out?&lt;br /&gt;the room spins and gets dark&lt;br /&gt;who's there with you in the end?&lt;br /&gt;second, third, fourth chances don't exist.&lt;br /&gt;only firsts.&lt;br /&gt;first kisses.&lt;br /&gt;first misses.&lt;br /&gt;what's the point in making plans if they never really turn out how you'd like them to?&lt;br /&gt;i like it when you answer my dreams&lt;br /&gt;i find myself in bed more often just to be closer to you.&lt;br /&gt;we're all just a heart beat away from loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who do you want there in the end?&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;edit//this post was finished about 2hrs after it was started.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-8129309811013552679?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/8129309811013552679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=8129309811013552679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/8129309811013552679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/8129309811013552679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/12/penny-for-your-thoughts-nickle-for-your.html' title='a penny for your thoughts, a nickle for your lies.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-1676369757946059937</id><published>2006-11-25T03:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T03:35:25.175-06:00</updated><title type='text'>haven't you ever been under the influence of an unhealthy addiction?</title><content type='html'>it's nice to see the corners of your mouth turn up... even if it is short-lived. i think you forget that you deserve to be happy and smiling should become a habit for you. it was good seeing you... even though i know you didn't see me. you looked amazing. i could've stared at you all night... come to think of it, i think i did. i wanted to keep you a secret, but i know the world knew. let me try harder next time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;panic! at the disco was mind-blowing. actually, that doesn't even begin to sum it up. their performance was better than anything i've ever seen them come up with... i'm speechless. it was beyond words. they truly are amazing performers and when you go to see one of their shows, well you're in for a big treat. i just hope to see them take some time off to write new music after this tour wraps up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my thanksgiving was spent at work... lame. i know. it was a very slow and boring night. sadly, i need the money. my parents drove up to take me out to lunch today and i thought that was very nice, since i couldn't go home for thanksgiving. you know, you really don't realize how much you could miss thanksgiving until it's not there. i didn't even get the chance to run through the things i'm thankful for. let's see... i'm thankful for my wonderful parents who have given me more than i could even fit into my pretty little head. they truly are amazing and i love them so much for the way they've raised me and for the chances they took in order to give me the opportunities that i've had. i'm thankful for my job [even though i constantly complain about it] and the fact that i'm able to study at the university i attend. i am thankful for all the friends i've made up to this point in my life... the ones that have stuck around and the ones that haven't... because each one of these people has helped shaped the person that i am today. lastly, but surely not least, i am thankful for music. i am beyond grateful for the opportunities that i've had to go see live shows this year and i am thankful that there are sincere musicians who are willing to spend their lives creating beautiful sound with stunningly written lyrics for my pretty little head to listen to. i truly admire you and thank you for taking me along for the ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aside from all that... everything is pretty much the same. almost time to go back to school after my little mini-break and then it's time for finals. fun. wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;i feel like every time i go to sleep i get further away from you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-1676369757946059937?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/1676369757946059937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=1676369757946059937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/1676369757946059937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/1676369757946059937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/11/havent-you-ever-been-under-influence-of.html' title='haven&apos;t you ever been under the influence of an unhealthy addiction?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-116398293416217825</id><published>2006-11-19T18:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T01:36:07.512-06:00</updated><title type='text'>badwagon's full... please catch another.</title><content type='html'>let's try to keep this more up than down. i've wrapped my head around something that's kind of a big deal to me... two new fall out boy songs that have absolutely blown my mind. their sound has grown, but is still clearly fall out boy and they looked to michael jackson and even baby face for inspiration. they're first single "this ain't a scene, it's an arms race" is upbeat and incredibly arranged. the lyrics are uniquely written in a diary-like style... as usual to all fall out boy songs. if you haven't wrapped your head around it yet, i recommend you should. it's truly something amazing. i'm beyond in love. [and if you'd like to get another peek into the new album try finding a second song called "the carpal tunnel of love"...you won't be disappointed]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in other news... i've had a nice break from work and now i'm ready to get back into the swing of things. i'll be working the entire holiday weekend, which is great for me, but my mom was not too happy with. wednesday i'm going to be at the UIC pavillion for Panic! At The Disco's 'Nothing Rhymes with Circus' tour. I'm incredibly excited about seeing them for the third time this year. Yes, three times!! and if they were coming a fourth... you better believe i'd have my tickets! I've got some pretty exciting shows coming up before the end of the year and I wish I could go to even more... but my work schedule definitely won't allow for that. I'll be attending night two of Q101's Twisted Thirteen show featuring Red-Jumpsuit Apparatus, My Chemical Romace and Rise Against. I think that's going to be an off-the-hook show and I can't wait for it. After that is The All-American Rejects, The Formant, Gym Class Heroes, and Motion City Soundtrack. I think I'd have to say that these 2 shows will be the first two shows i've gone to where i actually want to see every band!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think that's all as far a updates are concerned. school's almost over and i'll be studying my butt off for finals next week. let's hope i pass :) ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;current music: Fall Out Boy- "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race"&lt;br /&gt;current mood: content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am your broken heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-116398293416217825?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116398293416217825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=116398293416217825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116398293416217825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116398293416217825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/11/badwagons-full-please-catch-another.html' title='badwagon&apos;s full... please catch another.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-116184580266385437</id><published>2006-10-26T01:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T01:56:42.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>seriously... WTF!?!?</title><content type='html'>what is it about me? what is it about me that can get every single fucking guy in a room to holler at me or ask for my number except for the ONE,  read it ONE,  guy that i really want to hear a compliment from or want to give my number to. i've had more guys approach me today than i can count on one hand. it's absolutely mind-blowing. i'd throw it all away just to get him to notice me. i know that sounds drastic and people will probably call me crazy for even mentioning it, but that's how completely serious i am. i just want his compliments. his phone calls. his voice. his lips. just him. but it's never going to happen. i'm always going to be the girl who wishes she was bold enough to go after what she wants or wishes she could just say what's on her mind and not think about what will happen after it's said. that's never going to be me. my tears are going to stay hidden behind this fake smile. he's the only one who can see through it... that only means i'm not hiding it well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;i'd give it all up... i swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pee.es. i freakin' love my roomie and my portioned meal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-116184580266385437?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116184580266385437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=116184580266385437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116184580266385437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116184580266385437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/10/seriously-wtf.html' title='seriously... WTF!?!?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-116164939298067415</id><published>2006-10-23T19:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T13:00:57.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm even productive in class... see.</title><content type='html'>same obsession. different day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't quite put my finger on what it is about you that i can't get out of my head. i still haven't figured out if i want to get you out of my head, but i'd like to know why you were put there. i think it's the way you say my name. like there's something more to it. it's not just a name to you, or is it? i haven't figured you out yet, but i'm on my way. i think you see it too... we're already finished each other's sentences. maybe i'm just being silly. but then that would make you blind. i'll choose silly over blind any day because that way i know i'm not missing out. i hope this isn't just a phase, but you might be and i'm not sure how i feel about that. i'll ignore everything if you don't reciprocate the feelings, but don't think you have anything to lose... except it's completely against the rules. i know you're not one for breaking them ::sigh:: i know this will get easier eventually, but i won't give up without a fight. i wish there was a 12-step program to get you out of my system. i need a dose of detox. sometimes i wish i could just let it all go and walk out because i know there's no hope. maybe if i left, you could realize what it was about me that put that smile on your face. i know i do at least that much for you. i guess it's enough... knowing that i make you smile. that's more than i could ask for right now. but i wish you'd realize i could make&amp;amp;keep you happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;i just want to see you light up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-116164939298067415?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116164939298067415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=116164939298067415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116164939298067415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116164939298067415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/10/im-even-productive-in-class-see.html' title='i&apos;m even productive in class... see.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-116107440399906045</id><published>2006-10-17T03:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T03:40:04.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>procrastination.. it's a horrible habit.</title><content type='html'>my bed is more than big enough for two people, but i've noticed that i always sleep close to one edge. just so you know you always have a place to sleep if you need it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;real post soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-116107440399906045?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116107440399906045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=116107440399906045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116107440399906045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/116107440399906045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/10/procrastination-its-horrible-habit.html' title='procrastination.. it&apos;s a horrible habit.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115977131008160201</id><published>2006-10-02T01:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T01:44:14.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i want to die and wake up when life is easier</title><content type='html'>you're half dead half the time. next, you should try all dead all the time. it's too late to go back. all emotions have hit a dead end. remember to feel real. just try to steer clear. i'm like a ticking time bomb. the trigger is pulled. you won't know when. you won't know how. be on the lookout. this is your final warning. what? you didn't get a first notice... the end will be bitter, don't expect a happy ending. you've used up all those. find someone willing to waste theirs on you because i'm not falling for it anymore. happy endings are for fairy tales. thank you for reminding me that my life isn't one. goodbye prince (c)harming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;every little word you say...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115977131008160201?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115977131008160201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115977131008160201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115977131008160201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115977131008160201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-want-to-die-and-wake-up-when-life-is.html' title='i want to die and wake up when life is easier'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115941998456354250</id><published>2006-09-27T23:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T00:06:24.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>there's no happy medium.</title><content type='html'>my roommate and i often get involved in these intense nightly discussions. ok, maybe they're not intense, but they sure do occupy our time very well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tonight it was about relationships. [yes, that's a freqent one] there are just so many things we try to understand&amp;analyze.  tonight i brought up the fact that there's no happy medium. my roomie and i are very free and individual and we don't need a relationship to define who we are. we enjoy being single and not being held down. so i was thinking about relationships... 2 kinds; the smothering, overbearing type and the distant, you-do-what-you-gotta-do-and-i-do-what-i-gotta-do type. so which do you prefer? i definitely don't enjoy smothering or being smothered in a relationship. but then when you think about it... if both people are given all the freedom they want, someone is still unhappy. too much time together=unhappy. not enough time together=unhappy. so where's the happy medium!? it just doesn't exist in relationships, does it? someone is always going to be unhappy... and someone is always going to have to compromise. i understand that's the basic definition of a relationship... but i don't think it should be like that. so if both parties can't get what they want out of a relationship, why be in relationships?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;i'm ready to pass out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115941998456354250?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115941998456354250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115941998456354250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115941998456354250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115941998456354250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/theres-no-happy-medium.html' title='there&apos;s no happy medium.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115906804978353912</id><published>2006-09-23T22:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T22:22:44.923-05:00</updated><title type='text'>who invented PB&amp;J?</title><content type='html'>where did i go wrong, i lost a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here i am again. the procrastination queen. are you sure they haven't invented a job doing that yet? i'm sure i'd be great at it. or sticker sticking. i wish i could get a degree in that. ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i knew how to save you. all of you. the ones that are stuck in places they just don't want to be. choosing between what you really want to do and what you need to do to remain in your unhappy but "safe" situation. is it still worth it? and how do you know when it's not? you're just walking in circles now... but it beats walking out on a limb doesn't it? standing up for what you want. learning what it's really like to be on your own two feet. no guidance. is that what you really fear? sorry, but i don't think telling you what shoes to wear is exactly "guidance", but i guess i could be mistaking. so you're happy then? in the situation in which you have absolutely no control. have you forgotten what it feels like behind the wheel? take the wheel and drive... i heard you once sing. drive. drive. drive and don't look back. it might be good for you. you might be good for you. because what i see now... that's not you. find yourself. be you again. i miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;where did i go wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;current music: Lola Ray- What it feels Like&lt;br /&gt;current obsession: any thought but my own&lt;br /&gt;current book: an array of Greek tragedies&lt;br /&gt;current website: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBCIYG3n7Yo"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBCIYG3n7Yo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115906804978353912?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115906804978353912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115906804978353912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115906804978353912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115906804978353912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/who-invented-pbj.html' title='who invented PB&amp;J?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115795067357522559</id><published>2006-09-10T23:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T15:59:45.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>is the ohio convention in town?</title><content type='html'>seriously. i've never seen so many ohio plates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyone tries to write like you. tell me, does it work for me? i'm not quite sure that i'm doing it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;current music: Plain White T's- "Hate (I Really Don't Like You)"&lt;br /&gt;current book: STILL reading &lt;em&gt;An Unquiet Mind&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;current website: &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/phalinxmusic"&gt;http://www.myspace.com/phalinxmusic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;andi'mstilltryingtofigureitallout.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115795067357522559?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115795067357522559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115795067357522559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115795067357522559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115795067357522559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/is-ohio-convention-in-town.html' title='is the ohio convention in town?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115768604826529514</id><published>2006-09-07T22:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T22:44:00.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i wanna be worth writing about [in your eyes]</title><content type='html'>i sit and read countless words written by you. straight from your fingertips to my heart. i read in hopes of learning all that you're about. i read hoping that one day my name will slip from your fingertips and all my dreams will come true. hundreds of days have gone by and still nothing. i've searched for the strength to give up on it all, but at times it feels like not giving up is just easier. or maybe it just leaves me with something to hang on to. a piece of you-- so to speak. as long as you're around and as long as your words keep reaching me, i'll carry you with me. you've got a permanent place in my heart, and it will always be home for you. i dedicate it all to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it feels like a goal. something i strive for. when i see my name on your lips i'll know i've reached the top. it can't possibly get any better than that. can it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;X marks the spOt. find it, and you'll find me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115768604826529514?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115768604826529514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115768604826529514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115768604826529514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115768604826529514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-wanna-be-worth-writing-about-in-your.html' title='i wanna be worth writing about [in your eyes]'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115744270342353321</id><published>2006-09-05T02:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T02:51:43.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the dreams in which you're dying are signaling a path of change.</title><content type='html'>hopefully it's for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;imissyourheart.&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115744270342353321?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115744270342353321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115744270342353321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115744270342353321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115744270342353321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/dreams-in-which-youre-dying-are.html' title='the dreams in which you&apos;re dying are signaling a path of change.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115700315609354630</id><published>2006-08-31T00:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T13:20:32.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so what if i'm not appropriately dressed?</title><content type='html'>addiction is an understatement when it comes to you and rehab isn't an option. everytime i think i've come close to figuring it out, i get lost again. i lose sight of the end and i have to start all over again. will somebody help me figure it out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you're the canvas my paints will never touch. i'd fear covering your true beauty. you'll never know it though because your current artist covers it all up. why he'd do such a thing... i'll never know. let your true colors shine without the artist and the paints and don't be afraid of the critics. i wish i could show you what you're truly made of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;atleastthenyou'dbehappy[er].&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115700315609354630?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115700315609354630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115700315609354630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115700315609354630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115700315609354630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/08/so-what-if-im-not-appropriately.html' title='so what if i&apos;m not appropriately dressed?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115606278616916840</id><published>2006-08-20T03:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T03:33:06.180-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i've been programmed for disappointment</title><content type='html'>the lights have faded. i'm staring down the dark, open road. my eyes focused on the road ahead. but my mind can't help but wander.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;leave the past and continue down the road? or turn around and search for the possibility of more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what would i be leaving behind if i chose to step forward? what's pushing me towards the edge? are you ever going to hold out your hand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a love/hate relationship with the time we spend together. i can't bring myself to really look in your eyes for fear that you'll find me out &amp; i'll spill it all. you're my weakness and i know that if you just asked... i'd give it all to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;my answer is yes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115606278616916840?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115606278616916840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115606278616916840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115606278616916840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115606278616916840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/08/ive-been-programmed-for-disappointment.html' title='i&apos;ve been programmed for disappointment'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115520114938571776</id><published>2006-08-10T04:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T04:12:29.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>your promises look like lies</title><content type='html'>my favorite place in the whole world is my window sill at 4am. it's the only time that everything makes sense without making sense. i know that sounds absolutely nuts... but somehow i can comprehend it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the street lights expose truths, but i feel sheltered in the darkness of my apartment. for those few moments nothing is wrong in the world. i exist in my own universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the air smells of cool summer rain. i watch it fall on the leaves and run down my arm. it feels refreshing... the moon peeks through bouts of rain clouds and i find myself drifting off into a state of unconsciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the clouds have passed. it's me and the hazy moon... answer my questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;you're on your own now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115520114938571776?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115520114938571776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115520114938571776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115520114938571776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115520114938571776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/08/your-promises-look-like-lies.html' title='your promises look like lies'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115499601005671331</id><published>2006-08-07T19:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T19:13:30.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>if i don't know you... ignore me.</title><content type='html'>you're killing me slowly from the inside out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cried because it was you who i was thinking about. i wept, but he didn't understand. he asked "what's wrong?" but i had no answer. i replied "nothing" as i closed my eyes and kissed him. "where are you?" he questioned again. "right here" i replied. "no you're not, don't lie to me" and he was right. there was nothing i could do about it. the truth is i wasn't there because i didn't want to be. i closed my eyes thinking i could escape... like all the times i tried before. it worked, but not for long because every time i close my eyes you're all i see. i didn't want to be thinking of you, but it appears that i lost control of all my emotions ever since you walked through that door. so bury me in an empty grave all alone with no headstone because i don't want to live in regret. or prove to me it was all worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x's&amp;amp;o's]&lt;br /&gt;the perfect denial.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115499601005671331?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115499601005671331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115499601005671331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115499601005671331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115499601005671331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/08/if-i-dont-know-you-ignore-me.html' title='if i don&apos;t know you... ignore me.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115450759663913632</id><published>2006-08-02T00:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T03:34:06.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>one day you're going to wake up and realize how much you care for her and when that day comes, she'll be waking up next to the guy who already knew</title><content type='html'>i'm sick of people who i don't care about caring about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe it sounds selfish, but it makes complete sense to me. why can random people on the street give a shit, but the one person that you actually WANT to give a shit... won't. i guess it's just the way the world works, right? when did it all become so unfair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lollapalooza is this weekend and i can't wait! i'm so excited to see 30 seconds to mars, the red hot chili peppers, blue october, gnarls barkley, the smoking popes, she wants revenge, and panic! at the disco again. i hope the weather isn't as fucking hot as it's been these past few days 'cuz i'll pass out. at least i'll get to work on my tan! i really want to go to the beach, but i just haven't found time yet! i've got 2 weeks off work... maybe i'll find some time now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't feel like writing anymore, so this is where it ends. hopefully i'll have something interesting to say soon. i know i've said that before... and i really did plan on being interesting, but i guess i'm just boring! sorry! goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.oo.x]&lt;br /&gt;do you like the sound of hearts breaking?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115450759663913632?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115450759663913632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115450759663913632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115450759663913632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115450759663913632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/08/one-day-youre-going-to-wake-up-and.html' title='one day you&apos;re going to wake up and realize how much you care for her and when that day comes, she&apos;ll be waking up next to the guy who already knew'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115433863696938414</id><published>2006-07-31T04:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T04:37:16.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>your voice caught my attention... your words keep me from running</title><content type='html'>i've never seen you so hurt&amp;angry. i wish you could just let go. is it really worth the struggle? i don't think you should hold on anymore. i wrote something for you, but then i realized it could never do you justice. words aren't enough to describe what you mean to me... and my feelings are just overwhelming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll never be up to your standards. or maybe i am, but you just can't see. your world keeps you blind from mine. i'm d[cr]ying to let you in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;untie everything. it's just you&amp;amp;me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115433863696938414?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115433863696938414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115433863696938414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115433863696938414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115433863696938414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/your-voice-caught-my-attention-your.html' title='your voice caught my attention... your words keep me from running'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115359590551474128</id><published>2006-07-22T14:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T14:18:25.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>we're all lost</title><content type='html'>but i found you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these four walls have never felt so binding. your secret is finally out. i've found you out so you can stop running now. i think what worries you most is that you know i understand you more than anyone. so are you worried that i already know more than i should know, or because there's more that i can find out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you're caught. and now you don't know where to turn. safe road or take a shot? the ball's in your court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x's&amp;amp;0's]&lt;br /&gt;it's not a game anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115359590551474128?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115359590551474128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115359590551474128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115359590551474128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115359590551474128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/were-all-lost.html' title='we&apos;re all lost'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115321607941603712</id><published>2006-07-18T04:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T03:38:15.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>undeserving</title><content type='html'>where were you tonight? you seemed lost in thought, in&amp;out of reality. i don't know if it was a better place, but i'm glad i got to see the corners of your lips turn up just a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i understand you more when we're not talking. your eyes tell me everything i need to know. i'm not completely sure if you intentionally do that, but i've noticed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x's&amp;amp;o's]&lt;br /&gt;if misery loves company, why am i alone!?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115321607941603712?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115321607941603712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115321607941603712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115321607941603712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115321607941603712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/undeserving.html' title='undeserving'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115303917826821197</id><published>2006-07-16T03:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T03:47:56.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'>wasting away...</title><content type='html'>inspired by intense/late night conversation. forgive me if it's completely outrageous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she sits in her secret place replaying the day's events. it's the only place she feels safe and free from the pain she's used to. she worries she'll never find someone who will appreciate her true worth. her self-image is fading and her guard was let down for the wrong people. her words start to make no sense and she's infuriated that she let it happen again. all the love &amp; passion she has in store continues to go to waste. she doesn't see all that she has to offer and she let's the wrong people in. "why me? why again?" she questions anxiously, but i have few words to offer. all i can tell you is that you're here for a reason. you're passionate and you have so much love to offer someone. i know you will find someone who will accept it. "what if i don't?" she asks again wiping a tear from her eye. "well, then you'd be a wasted girl, my friend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x's&amp;amp;o's]&lt;br /&gt;tear her apart, rip her to pieces. she's used to it and she'll find her way out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115303917826821197?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115303917826821197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115303917826821197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115303917826821197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115303917826821197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/wasting-away.html' title='wasting away...'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115298977486586928</id><published>2006-07-15T13:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T13:56:14.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'>here in my room</title><content type='html'>i never noticed you in such a way. i couldn't even imagine your feelings could change. the possibilities are changing and i can't complain. but we're both being pulled in opposite ways. you know i'd throw it all away to see your dream come true. and i'll always be there to believe in you. let me take a peek inside, how do you come alive? my mind is filled with thoughts &amp; feelings that i can't express. please don't ever let it all regress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0's.x]&lt;br /&gt;check my price tag. does it show my true worth?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115298977486586928?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115298977486586928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115298977486586928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115298977486586928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115298977486586928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/here-in-my-room.html' title='here in my room'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115261265055257837</id><published>2006-07-11T05:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T04:05:38.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>inspired by greatness</title><content type='html'>you're the experiment i can't perfect/ you're theories i just reject/ to keep you locked in a glass box/ observe, but not touch/ withdraw, withhold sunlight/ suspend, select each breath/ observing your each &amp; every mood/ magnifying your each &amp;amp; every sound/ to cut open and tear apart each piece/ every part that makes you who you are/ to finally learn exactly what it is that makes your heart beat/ but above all to learn what it would take to make you love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0's.x]&lt;br /&gt;just some words i wrote during practice tonight. take as you wish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115261265055257837?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115261265055257837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115261265055257837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115261265055257837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115261265055257837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/inspired-by-greatness.html' title='inspired by greatness'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115233561208743401</id><published>2006-07-07T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-08T00:21:29.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sunshines, downtown, &amp; panic! at the disco</title><content type='html'>wow. i can't even put into words how unfucking believable panic! at the disco was tonight. i'm completely blown away. they went above&amp;beyond what i could have even come close to expecting! i was so happy to see that they aren't just a studio band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love how they spiced up some songs for the live show, and i'm so excited that their new music video will be 'lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off'. that song is one of my absolute faves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they're circus/vaudeville acts were hysterical and definitely provided much entertainment during their intermissions! brendon is so much more beautiful in person. i can't get the thought of sucking on his lips out of my mind. oh, and did i mention he's an outstanding dancer? ladies, you know what that means! i'd like a taste of that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they're new bassist has definitely found a home. he's great with all the guys on stage and they've got amazing energy as a band! and did i catch a sweet kiss between him and brendon? hmm... they're cute together. especially the little head bobs they most likely choreographed together! yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait to see them at lollapalooza this august! [but this time i probably won't be in front]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0's.x]&lt;br /&gt;hey brendon, thanks for the eye fucks ;) here's the kiss you didn't catch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pee.es. brendon bleeds music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115233561208743401?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115233561208743401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115233561208743401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115233561208743401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115233561208743401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/sunshines-downtown-panic-at-disco.html' title='sunshines, downtown, &amp; panic! at the disco'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115213647307231976</id><published>2006-07-05T16:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T16:54:33.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>inspiration strikes @ the wal</title><content type='html'>you should know what it feels like&lt;br /&gt;i know you've been there many times&lt;br /&gt;i'm not asking for your sympathy&lt;br /&gt;i'm calling your bluff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we'll never be here again&lt;br /&gt;i won't allow it&lt;br /&gt;suffocate your sins because i know you won't confess&lt;br /&gt;it started a little secret now you're just a mess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where will you run now?&lt;br /&gt;you're all alone, fact the facts&lt;br /&gt;you wouldn't reach for my caring hand&lt;br /&gt;now continue swimming in your regrets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0's.x]&lt;br /&gt;people often ask me what inspires the poems[if you can even call them that] i write. usually my answer is 'obsession', but this time it's about letting go of an obsession. i can't really go into too many details, but it's about a situation i've dealt with in my past and i've recently learned to let go. i've come to understand that it's a part of my life that has happened and is now a memory/nightmare and i'll never let happen again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115213647307231976?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115213647307231976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115213647307231976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115213647307231976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115213647307231976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/inspiration-strikes-wal_05.html' title='inspiration strikes @ the wal'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115174568461584390</id><published>2006-07-01T04:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T04:21:24.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my best work on a napkin during my break</title><content type='html'>i want to see you bleed like i bled. give me back the hours i spent shedding tears &amp; waiting for phonecalls. why did it take me so long to realize you weren't worth it all. turn your back on me now. i'll remember it when you need me again. don't forget how much you owe me. those words were only borrowed. i never wanted you to keep them. they're empty now. just like you. you wanted it all, but instead you ended up cold&amp;amp;alone. was it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i used to feel sorry for you, but now i'm just sorry. sorry that i ever layed eyes on you. sorry that i ever let you get the best of me. sorry that we met. harsh words were meant for harsh eyes and tonight yours are the harshest. but you aren't even worth my words. realizations are better late than never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0's.x]&lt;br /&gt;hearts forever?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115174568461584390?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115174568461584390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115174568461584390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115174568461584390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115174568461584390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/07/my-best-work-on-napkin-during-my-break.html' title='my best work on a napkin during my break'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115130920540225835</id><published>2006-06-26T02:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T03:07:39.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>you're my lobster...</title><content type='html'>and now i'm sure of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so close yet still so far. why does the finish line keep moving back? you're a memory that hasn't happened, a thought i can't escape. the days fade into night, but you fade into day and hide in the night. your words are carried on my sleeve because you're always worried you might lose them along with your mind. you never make sense to yourself, but to me you're the last piece of the puzzle. everything fits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i could use one word to describe you, i'd have to make one up. because there is no word in the entire english language that could describe everything you are and what you mean to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ex.doubleo's.ex]&lt;br /&gt;i'll see you tonight. you promised to save the last dream for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115130920540225835?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115130920540225835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115130920540225835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115130920540225835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115130920540225835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/youre-my-lobster.html' title='you&apos;re my lobster...'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115103812020851835</id><published>2006-06-22T23:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T23:48:40.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>goodbye blues. hello mean reds.</title><content type='html'>i didn't think about you at all until i heard you were back. actually, i'm lying... i thought about you a lot, but even more now that i know you're around. i thought about spending some nights in an empty hotel room, just so that i can say "i know how you feel." truth is.. i'll never be able to relate. we live in two completely different worlds. or at least it seems so on the outside. on the inside i know exactly who you are. i know exactly what you're searching for. i truly know what makes you tick. but you don't let anyone in that easily. i still haven't figured out what it will take for you to let me in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on another note... i've been standing very close to the edge these past few days. i'm on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;current mood: idontcareanymore&lt;br /&gt;current music: anything The Hush Sound&lt;br /&gt;current book: An Unquiet Mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0.x]&lt;br /&gt;hanging on to your last words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115103812020851835?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115103812020851835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115103812020851835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115103812020851835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115103812020851835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/goodbye-blues-hello-mean-reds.html' title='goodbye blues. hello mean reds.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115019049520606769</id><published>2006-06-13T04:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T04:21:35.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>nothing's real for me, but you.</title><content type='html'>choose love or friendship, but never both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do you ever wonder why it's hard to move on when you're stuck in the past? your world is stationary, but look around... my clock is still ticking. and so is my heart. it's time to stop holding hands with the past. let go. move on. you are worth it. don't let anyone tell you anything different. and don't get tricked into it again. you know you've been down that road several times and it always ends the same way. dead end. relax&amp;relapse. take a deep breath. step out of your comfort zone for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0.x]&lt;br /&gt;misery loves me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115019049520606769?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115019049520606769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115019049520606769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115019049520606769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115019049520606769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/nothings-real-for-me-but-you.html' title='nothing&apos;s real for me, but you.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-115001679766526326</id><published>2006-06-11T03:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T04:06:38.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>broken promises? more like broken lies...</title><content type='html'>i don't know if i'd rather have you break a promise or break a leg. or maybe break a leg because you fell for me so hard. i'm going to try to break my addiction to you because i came too close to overdosing today. the tremors are starting. i haven't had a dose in over an hour. i'm going to make it through this time. you can tell this addiction i've got it figured out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who am i kidding? it always starts like this... but before hour 2 is up i'm begging for another dose. just a drop. anything to get me through. i guess i'm not as strong as i thought i was. or maybe i just don't want to be? this addiction gives me a reason, hope, breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm out of words. but i know you're full of them. i wish words meant actions, even if just for tonight. maybe i'd get a mouthful. until then... i'm holding onto your words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0.x]&lt;br /&gt;you're no Hemingway, but i'm lost inside your story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-115001679766526326?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115001679766526326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=115001679766526326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115001679766526326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/115001679766526326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/broken-promises-more-like-broken-lies.html' title='broken promises? more like broken lies...'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114975522436992056</id><published>2006-06-08T02:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T18:11:55.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so sick, you'd think it's contagious.</title><content type='html'>i'm running on three hours of sleep. remind me to never do that again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i thought about telling you today. telling you everything i've been feeling since you stepped into my mind. i stopped myself. i didn't want to ruin your perfect picture. at least, i hope that's what it is. because after everything that you've been through, i can't believe you'd be willing to take any more. you don't deserve it. yet still you grasp on tight. like you didn't know how to let go. or you're afraid to. i vote it's the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your image in my dreams is getting blurry. i rub my eyes, but it doesn't clear my view. i'm getting too old for dreams. yet i'm stuck in this dream world. i am a dreamer. i can no longer hide who i really am. i am a dreamer. and you will always be my dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0.x]&lt;br /&gt;wishing i was clever/brave enough to get your attention.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114975522436992056?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114975522436992056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114975522436992056' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114975522436992056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114975522436992056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/so-sick-youd-think-its-contagious.html' title='so sick, you&apos;d think it&apos;s contagious.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114967124819146782</id><published>2006-06-07T03:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T04:07:28.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>put me in your pocket and take me everywhere.</title><content type='html'>current mood: hopeless&lt;br /&gt;current book: A Million Little Pieces&lt;br /&gt;current music: The Audition&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;currently: questioning every decision i've ever made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not quite sure why/when i started doubting myself. i guess it's a recent development. because for as long as i can remember, my goals were set. i was sure that i would be happy with the goals i set. suddenly, i started contemplating other options. but those options filled me with more doubt. could i actually get a job doing that? would i be good at it? where do i start? it's unfamiliar territory. i want to tell myself to just break free of these chains and take a walk on the wild side. you'll never be happy if you don't take any chances. it's going to be difficult. sometimes i get discouraged easily. but i have a passion. i wonder if that passion is enough drive to push me to the top?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll continue weighing my options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow feels like a good day. i'm going to take a stroll at the beach to clear my mind [ha. if that's even possible]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[doubleX.double0]&lt;br /&gt;deep breath. relax. deep breath. relax.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114967124819146782?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114967124819146782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114967124819146782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114967124819146782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114967124819146782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/put-me-in-your-pocket-and-take-me.html' title='put me in your pocket and take me everywhere.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114958336150857158</id><published>2006-06-06T03:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T03:42:41.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>your view from the top is bound to get blurry</title><content type='html'>i put myself in your shoes today. suddenly, it all makes sense. the love you're receiving from several people doesn't mean shit when you're only looking to receive it from one person. people fight for a way to get access to you, but you turn away because you're stuck on her. in retrospect, i can't believe i didn't catch on earlier. i find myself struggling with the same situation. i'm stuck on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing new to report. i'll try to make my entries somewhat brighter. still searching for a job. yuck. what the heck is wrong with me!? i must be truly unemployable if i still haven't found a job. hmm.. what else? i'm almost finished with my book. i'm really excited about that because i've got some great books on my list to get to. that's about it... pretty boring. i know! ::sigh::&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0.x]&lt;br /&gt;13th post on 6/6/06. i couldn't resist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114958336150857158?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114958336150857158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114958336150857158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114958336150857158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114958336150857158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/your-view-from-top-is-bound-to-get.html' title='your view from the top is bound to get blurry'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114949731336030833</id><published>2006-06-05T03:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T03:48:33.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the one person i can never meet, i'd like to give my whole heart to.</title><content type='html'>i know there is nothing i could say to make the empty room seem more full. to suddenly appear at your door and tell you everything that's running through my mind. it's light where you are, but i'm surrounded by darkness. your weaknesses exposed... mine hidden. at least for a few more hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but would you like to know my biggest weakness? i'll expose it even in the darkest night. it's you&amp;and everything about you. and although i cannot be there with you tonight [and most likely any other night] i can tell you this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;smile. it makes people guess what you're thinking, but i'm sure you already knew that. because i can see far beneath that smile you use to cover up what you're truly feeling. i know every day doesn't bring happiness, but you have to look at each day for what it does bring. new sunrise. new opportunity. more time. second chances. inspiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;forget. let go of the past. it's hard to move on when you're being held back by the past. sometimes i think you're making progress, but you relapse. let go of the things that have hurt you because they will most likely hurt you again. there are bigger&amp;brighter things ahead in your future. trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;live. don't forget to live. the most precious thing you've got is your life. you're young, talented, brilliant, and beautiful [on every level]. remember you're in charge. you can always choose to step left while the herd steps right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;breathe. take time for yourself. forget your troubles. talk to a friend or someone who is willing to listen. your mind is constantly on fire. find someone who is willing to soothe the burn once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never forget that you're an amazing human being. despite what anyone else says. there are people who see you for who you really are. let him shine through. don't be afraid of what people will say. you've never striked me as the type who cares what anyone else has to say... don't let that change now. the people who are worth caring about will love you for you [flaws&amp;all]. wait for those people, i know they're out there. and don't be afraid to trust. enjoy your day. live it up. just don't forget to come back to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.double0.x]&lt;br /&gt;long after our footprints in the sand wash away, i'll still guard your heart with my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114949731336030833?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114949731336030833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114949731336030833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114949731336030833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114949731336030833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/one-person-i-can-never-meet-id-like-to.html' title='the one person i can never meet, i&apos;d like to give my whole heart to.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114944627607174377</id><published>2006-06-04T13:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T13:37:56.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i love how you never make sense at first glance</title><content type='html'>forcing me to take a closer look. far beyond your exterior. and it's just how i like it. digging under your skin. discovering every inch of you. from the inside out. outside in. getting lost in every corner. taking my time in all the areas that make you tick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing new to report. if you're in the Chicagoland area and find yourself with nothing to do tonight. come check out The Hush Sound at the Metro. $13, doors open at 6pm. see you there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114944627607174377?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114944627607174377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114944627607174377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114944627607174377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114944627607174377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-love-how-you-never-make-sense-at.html' title='i love how you never make sense at first glance'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114923546843541900</id><published>2006-06-02T02:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T03:04:28.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i wish i could hear you think.</title><content type='html'>the scars that go so deep i saw you staring at them. you can see right through me. no one understands me quite like you. and although our paths are complete opposites, somehow they've crossed. at least in our world they have. but you'll be leaving soon. like you always do. i'll keep your heart in my heart. like i always have. like i always do. like i always will. until we're together again. until i can watch you fall asleep. feel your heart beat. kiss your lips. hear your whisper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ex.oh]&lt;br /&gt;shake me, i'm ready to wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114923546843541900?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114923546843541900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114923546843541900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114923546843541900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114923546843541900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-wish-i-could-hear-you-think.html' title='i wish i could hear you think.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114914283139269526</id><published>2006-06-01T01:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T01:20:31.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hiding in the shadows.</title><content type='html'>i've heard it's normal to feel this way with this disease. i know it's going to start taking over my body until it's far beyond my control. i've been battling the cold sweats, chest pains, vertigo, &amp;severe migraines. i've come to the conclusion that i'm just going to succumb to it. i've been fighting for far too long. but i'll face the facts now. there's no way out when the disease i'm battling is my love for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[.exs&amp;ohs.]&lt;br /&gt;the &lt;3 i miss even though it's never been mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114914283139269526?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114914283139269526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114914283139269526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114914283139269526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114914283139269526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/06/hiding-in-shadows.html' title='hiding in the shadows.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114906075381075220</id><published>2006-05-31T02:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T02:32:33.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the pain is good...</title><content type='html'>it helps me realize that it's all real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dreamt of your face again. i'll never be able to tell you how beautiful i think you really are. i got lost in your eyes and you found me. like you always do. you told me a story, and i held on to every word like it would be the last i was hearing from your mouth. i wish it wasn't. when you're gone i like to read all the words you've written. like they were meant only for me. you always make me feel like i'm the only one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you're the only thing i'm good at.&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114906075381075220?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114906075381075220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114906075381075220' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114906075381075220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114906075381075220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/pain-is-good.html' title='the pain is good...'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114897204480211687</id><published>2006-05-30T01:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T01:54:04.810-05:00</updated><title type='text'>are you really out to get me?</title><content type='html'>i know that look. it's the look you get when you're troubled. troubled by thoughts. troubled by memories. do you recognize this face? mine? this is how i look when i realize i can't help you. you know where to find me if you need me, but you've got to find your way out of this on your own. i realize you feel you're trapped in a dark tunnel and the walls are caving in, but i'll always be waiting for you at the other end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ex&amp;oh]&lt;br /&gt;subliminal messages.&lt;br /&gt;wait, what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114897204480211687?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114897204480211687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114897204480211687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114897204480211687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114897204480211687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/are-you-really-out-to-get-me.html' title='are you really out to get me?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114853849274487212</id><published>2006-05-25T01:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T01:28:39.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>we're passive today.</title><content type='html'>face the facts kid. it's never going to happen for you. it's just not in the stars.&lt;br /&gt;currently accepting reality while trying not to cringe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a horribly long day. I was awakened by the sounds of the furniture movers moving in the new couches for our apartment. Granted, it was like 11am, but I usually don't wake up until 2pm. :) I sat around and did nothing again [surfing the net, unfortunately, doesn't count as something]. But I finally finished the book I was reading and now I don't know what to read next. My roommate wants me to read &lt;em&gt;Running With Scissors&lt;/em&gt;, but I just want to go on amazon and order something. Any suggestions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memorial day weekend. Woo hoo. I'm finally getting out of the city and going up north to Wisconsin. I don't hate the city... I love it with all my heart, but the city is hard to enjoy all alone. I realized I don't have any events planned for June and that terribly disappoints me. I'm going to need to get on top of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the storms today reminded me of the days we spent soaking in the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114853849274487212?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114853849274487212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114853849274487212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114853849274487212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114853849274487212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/were-passive-today.html' title='we&apos;re passive today.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114845651826410314</id><published>2006-05-24T02:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T02:41:58.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>chin up, kid</title><content type='html'>hearts only. and ours were in it for the long run. you left without saying goodbye and i held on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;struggling to make sense of my words tonight. you're the only one that understands anyway. how can i keep you closer, when all you want to do is drift away? Far away from this world... but i'm begging you not to go. i'll keep you forever, if you just let me in. you're safe in my words. my secret that the world knows... but i'm lost in oblivion when i'm by your side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x.00.x]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114845651826410314?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114845651826410314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114845651826410314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114845651826410314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114845651826410314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/chin-up-kid.html' title='chin up, kid'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114836232488363160</id><published>2006-05-23T00:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T00:32:04.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'>music doesn't have a genre.</title><content type='html'>it's my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why do people always feel the need to argue with me about music? shouldn't people understand [by now] that everyone has his/her own taste. i apologize if my taste in music is too broad for some to grasp, but i'm never going to change that. i enjoy all musical styles and i'm not going to limit myself to one style or "genre" now or ever. deal with it. one day i'll listen to rock and the next i might throw in some classical. if that bothers you, don't talk to me. i'm not going to stoop to your level of selectivity because i like keeping an open mind. especially about music. i realize this doesn't apply to everyone, because there are indeed many people that can listen to any style of music, it just applies to several events i've encountered recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so for you musically selective individuals, here's my suggestion. turn off the radio and mtv. scope out some local talent and you may find a new artist or musical styling that you're passionate about and may have never heard before. visit your city's local [hotspot] venue where many mainstream artists got their start. check out some free events... believe it or not, there are many. keep your eyes peeled for summer music festivals. i understand that there are many amazing mainstream artists, but by only paying attention to those, you're really missing out on a lot. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take my advice. take a chance. you might find something you truly enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;x.0&lt;br /&gt;ta-ta for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114836232488363160?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114836232488363160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114836232488363160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114836232488363160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114836232488363160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/music-doesnt-have-genre.html' title='music doesn&apos;t have a genre.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114828765483072892</id><published>2006-05-22T03:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-22T03:47:34.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i suck at mysteries. can somebody fill me in?</title><content type='html'>Whew... long night. My roommate and I drove up to Milwaukee to see Three Days Grace. Unfortunately after months of waiting, we were disappointed to find out that they were not performing tonight. ::sigh:: On a more positive note, Staind was absolutely breathtaking. On a more negative note, their crowd is fucking crazy and I was praying for my life. [more in depth story on my livejournal ---&gt;link]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on a strict regimen of NyQuil, vitamin C and water. So I've actually been getting some sleep lately. Too bad it's sans REM. Luckily my immune system is kick ass and I'm already feeling better. Aside from the raspy voice... but I guess that's more my fault than the cold. [it's kinda sexy anyway] If you want to take a listen give me a call 1 773... just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw my parents this morning :) It was brief, but any time spent with them is precious. I miss them terribly. We enjoyed a nice breakfast and then my dad had to go finish painting the yacht. I was saddened to see that my dog wasn't feeling well again. She had been having some hip problems before [she's a german shepherd and they're prone to hip dysplasia] and apparently they're starting again. It really hurts to watch her struggle to stand up or walk up the stairs. I followed her around lifting her butt whenever I could to relieve some of the stress on her hips. Then I just layed down next to her and balled my eyes out. I wish I could take every ounce of pain away from her. She's so amazing and she really doesn't deserve this. I hope she feels better. I wish I was with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now. Sorry if I bummed anyone out! Good night &amp; sleep tight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;xo.o&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want you out of my dreams and in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I watched Flight Plan this weekend. WOW. Really twisty. One of those "keeps ya guessin'" movies. Jodie Foster is amazing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114828765483072892?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114828765483072892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114828765483072892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114828765483072892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114828765483072892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-suck-at-mysteries-can-somebody-fill.html' title='i suck at mysteries. can somebody fill me in?'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114818492311554751</id><published>2006-05-20T23:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T23:15:23.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i couldn't imagine a more perfect you.</title><content type='html'>quick thoughts for the quick hearts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dark circles. you can tell i'm not just sleepless, but obsessive. i put your song on and hit repeat. just as i start to drift off into a deep sleep i'm reminded of your face. i wake up to feel around in the bed for you... just to be reminded that you're already gone. or maybe you were never there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;despite this sickness taking over... i just want to take care of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114818492311554751?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114818492311554751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114818492311554751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114818492311554751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114818492311554751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-couldnt-imagine-more-perfect-you.html' title='i couldn&apos;t imagine a more perfect you.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28414515.post-114808458926501699</id><published>2006-05-19T19:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T19:23:09.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i'll eventually run out of things to say.</title><content type='html'>surrounded by the color blue. i thought these walls were easy to break through. why do you always know i bottle up my emotions? it's like you have a sixth sense... me. one thing you'll never know is the story you've given me. i couldn't come up with anything better myself. it would break your heart to know what i think. so into the bottle i go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another day in the life of me. :sigh: I really need to find myself a job. Writing and reading can only take me so far. Unless... someone would pay me to do it. I honestly don't see that happening any time soon though. Back to the drawing board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish the summer would come already. As much as I love my hoodie, I'd really like to enjoy going to the beach. I'm hoping that when the season starts [next week] it will warm up. My family will be sailing out our yacht next week... I'm contemplating whether or not I want to accompany them on a 9-ish hour sail from Great Lakes to downtown Chicago. It wasn't terribly interesting last season, but at least the wind was blowing in the right direction. I've got a few more days to ponder my decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[.x.0.]&lt;br /&gt;i still love you when my eyes are closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OutZ.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28414515-114808458926501699?l=pseudoheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/feeds/114808458926501699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28414515&amp;postID=114808458926501699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114808458926501699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28414515/posts/default/114808458926501699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pseudoheart.blogspot.com/2006/05/ill-eventually-run-out-of-things-to.html' title='i&apos;ll eventually run out of things to say.'/><author><name>[a].</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c375/ak1223/PA140030-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
