<?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-7312381626893042352</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:12:52.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>diary of a broken heart</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-7836427887403312408</id><published>2007-05-20T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T21:57:30.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>high expectations</title><content type='html'>in between applications and job interviews, it took me this long to write.. anyway, the supposed to be "big" date was not so great after all.  More than a week ago, we met for coffee at this hip place at the mall.  i was looking for someone who was wearing a blue shirt. i saw someone wearing that color through the glass door.  his back was behind me so i couldn't exactly see what he looks like.  from his texts, he described himself as tall and lanky, &lt;em&gt;moreno&lt;/em&gt; and kind of cute.  those were his words. &lt;br /&gt;i took a deep breath and tapped his shoulder.  i was going, "hi, im carrie--", he turned around and i stopped in mid-sentence.  he was NOT kind of cute... not even close.  Ohmigod! Yes, he was tall and lanky but that was it.  I quickly regained my composure and sat down opposite him.  i wanted the day to end right then. &lt;br /&gt;forgive me for saying this but i was not about to be seen by my EX with this guy.  I was thinking more of a boyfriend material type of guy. like my ex.. he doesn't have to be Mr. Universe you know. just someone decent looking.. This guy, Vince, just didn't have that X-factor that i was kind of hoping for.  he sounded really nice on the phone and sweet in his texts.  Guess i was really disappointed.  Vince said he was kind of cute! DUH... so that's what it means when a guy says he's "kinda cute".&lt;br /&gt;out of respect, i went through with the coffee date even a movie afterwards.  thank God it was a weekday.  Few people were at the mall that day.  he kept trying to hold my hand during the movie.  i was careful to keep my hands away from him.  what made him think that i like him anyway?  i will never see him again.  damn this friend of a friend who gave this guy my number.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-7836427887403312408?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7836427887403312408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=7836427887403312408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7836427887403312408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7836427887403312408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/05/high-expectations.html' title='high expectations'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-7345971482018629610</id><published>2007-05-10T02:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T02:35:10.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>textmate</title><content type='html'>the past month has been crazy! my friends started to hook me up with available guys they know. they even gave my number to a guy so that we could get to know each other through texting.. i said to myself, why not? after all, i am a free woman. there's no harm with making friends. i should expand my social circle, meet new people, try new things. i wasn't looking for another relationship but i certainly am walking the road to recovery.&lt;br /&gt;sure, i miss him every now and then but there was no more pain. only emptiness. i no longer wanted him back. i was going to be better without him.&lt;br /&gt;this guy, Vince, texted me one night and said that he got my number from one of my friends. they were in a class together. he was kind and sweet in his messages. at least, my phone was no longer silent. we've been texting for 2 weeks now.. we decided to meet in person... today! i wonder what he's like..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-7345971482018629610?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7345971482018629610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=7345971482018629610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7345971482018629610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7345971482018629610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/05/past-month-has-been-crazy-my-friends.html' title='textmate'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-7583868657597988825</id><published>2007-04-05T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T19:50:35.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>getting better</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_6ktP4987SCc/RhWv0jQBZqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/yHMUCc2_fX0/s1600-h/coeur-1134570348.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 219px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_6ktP4987SCc/RhWv0jQBZqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/yHMUCc2_fX0/s320/coeur-1134570348.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050135874516379298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;After some meditation this Holy Week, i realized that there was no point in crying over someone who doesn't want me anymore.  Sure, I was hurt to the point of desperation but i wasn't about to spend the rest of my life wallowing in misery.  There was more to life than this senseless agony.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Heartbreaks can only last as long as we want them to be.  I have a choice to end this pain.  I have the chance to make myself better and whole again... even without him.  I survived most of my years on earth without him by my side.  I can make it on my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I know it wouldn't be a piece of cake or a walk through a park but I made a promise to myself that never again would I allow anyone to hurt me this much.  Why should I go on longing and crying for someone who has fooled me into thinking that I was the ONLY one?  Why would I waste my time and effort on something that was a lie  from the moment he denied having relations with another?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I was nothing to him now.. Nothing.  But he will be SOMETHING in mine.  Because he will become my perfect example of someone to be beware of in the future.  He has taught me a lot actually.  I learned not to give my heart that easily, not to trust someone with your whole heart and soul.  Like the sand on the shore, I will wash away all the impurities this experience has brought me and let the waves of the coming tide drift me off to a new horizon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-7583868657597988825?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7583868657597988825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=7583868657597988825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7583868657597988825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7583868657597988825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/04/getting-better.html' title='getting better'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_6ktP4987SCc/RhWv0jQBZqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/yHMUCc2_fX0/s72-c/coeur-1134570348.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-7203157797752440441</id><published>2007-03-27T21:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T21:32:53.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the revelation: all crap</title><content type='html'>i knew it. they have been an item at the start of our senior year! how could i have been so blind? they were always working on projects together, all those late nights doing God knows what.. i hate to think about all those times that he lied to me, refusing to go to gimmicks, giving me excuses like he wants to stay home and relax etc... Crap. All those were crap.&lt;br /&gt;i feel like im in a scene from a sappy flick about love and betrayal. they went to great lengths just to hide everything from me. i didn't even suspect them. although i had doubts a while back but he quickly erased them by reassuring me that nothing was going on, that i had to just trust him. yeah, right. what a lot of BS. everything i know is crap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-7203157797752440441?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7203157797752440441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=7203157797752440441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7203157797752440441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7203157797752440441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/revelation-all-crap.html' title='the revelation: all crap'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-2927775211782820366</id><published>2007-03-26T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T03:34:11.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this song says it all</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);font-family:Verdana;" &gt;Hurting Inside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 255, 153);font-family:Verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;by U-Turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 255, 153);font-family:Verdana;" &gt;There are moments&lt;br /&gt;That I feel I just can't go on&lt;br /&gt;Wishing that you were here&lt;br /&gt;Oh how I wish&lt;br /&gt;You holding me close to you&lt;br /&gt;Whispering those words I love you (I love you)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REFRAIN:&lt;br /&gt;But baby you're not there&lt;br /&gt;Like you were before&lt;br /&gt;No words of love to hear&lt;br /&gt;Can't smile anymore&lt;br /&gt;Is it finally over&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait any longer&lt;br /&gt;Do you ever think of me&lt;br /&gt;Coz baby can't you see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS:&lt;br /&gt;That I'm hurting inside&lt;br /&gt;All the tears I can't hide&lt;br /&gt;Life is never easy without you baby&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know that I'm hurting inside&lt;br /&gt;The pain is deep inside (I can't mend it)&lt;br /&gt;Wishing you would come to ease the pain&lt;br /&gt;In my heart&lt;br /&gt;Coz lovin' you just hurts deep inside, inside..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Empty moments&lt;br /&gt;They just fill every part of me&lt;br /&gt;Since you've been away from me&lt;br /&gt;Give me a chance to say how much I care&lt;br /&gt;Hold me close to you and let me through. let me through..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-2927775211782820366?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2927775211782820366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=2927775211782820366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/2927775211782820366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/2927775211782820366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/this-song-says-it-all.html' title='this song says it all'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-7867525648712502981</id><published>2007-03-26T03:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T03:16:59.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>listen to this song while drinking beer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I'll Be Over You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;by Toto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people live their dreams&lt;br /&gt;Some people close their eyes&lt;br /&gt;Some people's destiny&lt;br /&gt;Passes by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are no guarantees&lt;br /&gt;There are no alibis&lt;br /&gt;That's how our love must be&lt;br /&gt;Don't ask why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bridge:&lt;br /&gt;It takes some time&lt;br /&gt;God knows how long&lt;br /&gt;I know that I can forget you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as my heart stops breakin'&lt;br /&gt;Anticipating&lt;br /&gt;As soon as forever is through&lt;br /&gt;I'll be over you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remembering times gone by&lt;br /&gt;Promises we once made&lt;br /&gt;What are the reasons why&lt;br /&gt;Nothing stays the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bridge:&lt;br /&gt;There were the nights holding you close&lt;br /&gt;Someday I'll try to forget them&lt;br /&gt;Someday I'll be over you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-7867525648712502981?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7867525648712502981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=7867525648712502981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7867525648712502981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7867525648712502981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/listen-to-this-song-while-drinking-beer.html' title='listen to this song while drinking beer'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-4386565646626006213</id><published>2007-03-26T03:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T03:10:40.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'>best song to cry to</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;One Last Cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;by Brian Mcknight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My shattered dreams and broken heart&lt;br /&gt;Are mending on the shelf&lt;br /&gt;I saw you holding hands, standing close to someone else&lt;br /&gt;Now I sit all alone wishing all my feeling was gone&lt;br /&gt;I gave my best to you, nothing for me to do&lt;br /&gt;But have one last cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;One last cry, before I leave it all behind&lt;br /&gt;I’ve gotta put you outta my mind this time&lt;br /&gt;Stop living a lie&lt;br /&gt;I guess I’m down to my last cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cry......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was here, you were there&lt;br /&gt;Guess we never could agree&lt;br /&gt;While the sun shines on you&lt;br /&gt;I need some love to rain on me&lt;br /&gt;Still I sit all alone, wishing all my feeling was gone&lt;br /&gt;Gotta get over you, nothing for me to do&lt;br /&gt;But have one last cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;One last cry, before I leave it all behind&lt;br /&gt;I’ve gotta put you outta my mind this time&lt;br /&gt;Stop living a lie&lt;br /&gt;I know I gotta be strong&lt;br /&gt;Cause round me life goes on and on and on&lt;br /&gt;And on.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m gonna dry my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Right after I had my&lt;br /&gt;One last cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;One last cry, before I leave it all behind&lt;br /&gt;I’ve gotta put you outta my mind for the very last time&lt;br /&gt;Been living a lie&lt;br /&gt;I guess I’m down&lt;br /&gt;I guess I’m down&lt;br /&gt;I guess I’m down...&lt;br /&gt;To my last cry...  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-4386565646626006213?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4386565646626006213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=4386565646626006213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/4386565646626006213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/4386565646626006213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/best-song-to-cry-to.html' title='best song to cry to'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-5859485723330991089</id><published>2007-03-26T02:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T02:47:50.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the other girl</title><content type='html'>after a week of breaking up, i saw him with "the girl".  they were strolling around campus like they were the only two people in the world.  they stopped and sat on one of the benches.  he leaned close to her and whispered something in her ear.  she laughed and went on to lightly touch his face.  i must have watched them for a long time because i didn't hear the bell ring for my next class.   &lt;br /&gt; seeing them together for the first time was like a splash of cold water on my face.  i felt the hurt and betrayal welling up inside me.  how could they? how dare they display their affections for each other right there in the middle of our school?  only seven days have passed!  a week!  they were really out to hurt me even more..&lt;br /&gt; i focused my eyes on the girl.  she was nothing like me.  she's not even pretty.  i knew her because i was introduced to her by a friend.  what did she have that i didn't?  how could he trade our relationship for someone he didn't know too well?&lt;br /&gt; i wanted to walk up to them, just to see the looks on their faces.  i probably won't know what to say or do after that. maybe i would humiliate myself even more by letting them see how hurt i am.  she would think i'm pathetic and that's the last thing i want anyone to think of me.&lt;br /&gt; at that moment, i hated her guts.  i had to find out how she stole my guy away from me..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-5859485723330991089?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5859485723330991089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=5859485723330991089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/5859485723330991089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/5859485723330991089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/other-girl.html' title='the other girl'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-7221596302879870260</id><published>2007-03-21T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T20:55:37.812-07:00</updated><title type='text'>blurry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"More often that not, they who go feel not the pain of parting. It is they who stay behind that suffer because they are left with memories of a love that was meant to be... a love that was."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"It's so hard to show everyone that im doing fine without you when deep down inside im not. i have to smile when i really can't hold back the tears 'cause as far as i can see, you're doing fine without me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"The hardest part about walking away from you is knowing that you'll never run after me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facing another day at school is like walking through hell. everything was a blur to me. i ignored the whispers behind my back, the sympathetic looks, the consoling words of my friends. nothing was ever the same again. i felt like a zombie... dead girl walking.&lt;br /&gt;I saw him walking by with his friends. I wanted to scream but couldn't. he pretended i didn't exist. i wanted to strangle him right then and there. in a matter of days, i was just a stranger to him. it was the first time that i saw him after the "talk" that we had. i tried not to cry but tears were already threatening to fall. i needed to get everything out. thankfully, it was nearing lunchbreak. i can cry within the walls of a comfort room cubicle..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-7221596302879870260?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7221596302879870260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=7221596302879870260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7221596302879870260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/7221596302879870260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/blurry.html' title='blurry'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-2633886952614003605</id><published>2007-03-21T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T20:29:25.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>let the wallowing begin</title><content type='html'>i have spent every night crying my eyes out. i often ask myself why... why did this happen to me? after everything that we've been through, why did he have to leave me? three years worth of a serious relationship has gone down the drain... just like that. i ask myself over and over again, why me? i know im beginning to sound like a broken record but i just can't seem to help myself. my friends are happy with their relationships. but not me. they go on celebrating their monthsaries or anniversaries while our supposed to be fourth year anniversary was only remembered by me. did he even remember that day? did i ever cross his mind? thought of me for even a second? Probably not.&lt;br /&gt;while other people are happy with their little lives, i on the other hand, was lonely and envious. come to think of it, i see a lot of couples wherever i go. funny how you don't notice things when you are so caught up in your own world.&lt;br /&gt;i was left alone with a broken heart and a badly bruised self-esteem. what more could he want from me? after the ordeal i went through for standing by him and this is how he repays me? he doesn't know how much he has hurt me. actually, nobody knows...&lt;br /&gt;he couldn't look me in the eye when he told me he wanted out. he mumbled some lame excuse before leaving me. am i just supposed to accept that? it kills me to think that he's in love with someone else but opted for a kinder explanation for his actions. but he only hurt me more by not telling the truth.&lt;br /&gt;people say that soon i'll get over him. it's his loss after all. they say that if we're really meant to be, then we'll still end up together... yes i know all these things. i've heard them before. i even gave the same advice to people i know. but it's more difficult to apply the same principle to yourself.&lt;br /&gt;while i am here trying to make sense of everything, he is out there somewhere going on with his life as if i was not a part of it. they who go feel not the pain of parting... does he even feel guilty? does he know how much he has affected my life? i'm suffering here. i'm in pain. saying sorry can't even begin to repair the damage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-2633886952614003605?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2633886952614003605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=2633886952614003605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/2633886952614003605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/2633886952614003605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/let-wallowing-begin.html' title='let the wallowing begin'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312381626893042352.post-4859249362648686374</id><published>2007-03-20T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T21:14:14.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the end of days</title><content type='html'>the world has come to an end.  for me, that is.  after three long years of what i thought was a happy life, it all turned into a living nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;       "i'm breaking up with you."  these words were deafening to my ears.  i could not believe it! i would not believe it.  i refuse to. how could this have happened to me?  what did i do to deserve this horrific pain and sorrow?&lt;br /&gt;       looking back, i must have failed to read the signs or anticipate the coming of the apocalypse.  i was so engrossed in my self-created perfect little world that i didn't realize what was happening right under my nose.&lt;br /&gt;       i met this guy during my first year in college.  he seemed like a nice guy.  he made me laugh.  he knew how to make me feel special.  he was sweet and kind... everything a girl could ask for.  Or so i thought...&lt;br /&gt;       he was a liar, a cheater.  yes, he cheated on me.  do you know how much that hurts?  its like somebody ripped your heart out, pinned it to the wall and threw darts at it over and over again.  the pain is numbing.  i felt nothing after finding out the truth.  i couldn't think straight.  all i wanted to do was sit on a corner and cry... cry my heart out until the hurt would go away.  i did that for days end but the pain grew even worse.&lt;br /&gt;       this was not supposed to happen to me.  i had my whole life planned out.  i'm twenty years old but suddenly after only a few days, i felt like im thirty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7312381626893042352-4859249362648686374?l=gulliblegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4859249362648686374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7312381626893042352&amp;postID=4859249362648686374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/4859249362648686374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7312381626893042352/posts/default/4859249362648686374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gulliblegirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/end-of-days.html' title='the end of days'/><author><name>gullible</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04728886500497998131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
