<?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-3603404147254157744</id><updated>2012-01-08T21:35:39.494-06:00</updated><title type='text'>arjaaah.</title><subtitle type='html'>THIS IS MY WORLD</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>204</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8763315750855545179</id><published>2012-01-08T21:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T21:35:39.505-06:00</updated><title type='text'>breakeven.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;What is wrong with me? Why am I changing so much? Why can’t I do anything right anymore. I need to grow some balls and do what’s right for me, I’m tired of thinking about how other people feel and what might affect other people from MY decisions. Fuck this peer pressure type of fuckery. I need to grow up and stop making decisions based on other people’s happiness over mine. This is my now, not his, hers or yours; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px !important; margin-bottom: 0px !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;MINE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8763315750855545179?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8763315750855545179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2012/01/breakeven.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8763315750855545179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8763315750855545179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2012/01/breakeven.html' title='breakeven.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-1489968977013327578</id><published>2012-01-08T20:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T21:13:53.367-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Houstatlantavagas</title><content type='html'>"you &lt;i&gt;used&lt;/i&gt; to love him."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There shouldn't be a term for "used to loving" someone. I still love him, but its just getting harder and harder. I miss the "chase" where he would drop everything just to talk to me. Where he would make everything worth it. when he tells me that I'm his only one. when it didn't matter who's listening, he's not afraid or embarrassed to tell me that he loves me, one person laughing at him wouldn't change his mind. I want you to want me. to call me because you want to hear my voice, to see me just for the sake of being with me, to kiss me because he can't help being away from me; I feel like this ALL the time, if his ringtone plays, I run to the phone and answer it right away, I try to clear my schedule for us to hang out but it never works out, when he's with me he doesn't have an urge to kiss me. I don't know if he misses me enough. Lord, please give me the strength to get through this. I know I don't need a boyfriend to be happy and that I can live without him but I don't want to. I want him in my life too much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-1489968977013327578?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/1489968977013327578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2012/01/houstatlantavagas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1489968977013327578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1489968977013327578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2012/01/houstatlantavagas.html' title='Houstatlantavagas'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5250688088815723568</id><published>2012-01-05T20:11:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T20:13:25.290-06:00</updated><title type='text'>emotionless.</title><content type='html'>I couldn't have thought of a more contradictory title. I feel so broken right now.. I feel so alone. it sucks. and I don't know what I did to deserve it. I need someone to unbreak me please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5250688088815723568?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5250688088815723568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2012/01/emotionless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5250688088815723568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5250688088815723568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2012/01/emotionless.html' title='emotionless.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6423804500224507422</id><published>2011-12-10T01:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T01:23:36.269-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Just You (Nasri version)</title><content type='html'>right now, all seems right. resolved problems from the fight that we just had. It feels good to hear his apology and "I Love You" and knowing that those words are genuine. I know I can't stop myself from feeling the ways I do. Words don't help. I needed to hear his voice. thank you dylan, for doing something I knew I wasnt going to do. oh my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6423804500224507422?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6423804500224507422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/12/not-just-you-nasri-version.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6423804500224507422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6423804500224507422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/12/not-just-you-nasri-version.html' title='Not Just You (Nasri version)'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6366894289130066543</id><published>2011-12-08T20:09:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T20:12:34.837-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Half of my heart.</title><content type='html'>I keep telling myself to stay away from him. give him time to miss me. i keep thinking he'll miss me, but he never does. is it even worth this? I told him all I could. But I know every single thing he'll say to counter what I say. I know everything. to think a year with someone would be this hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6366894289130066543?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6366894289130066543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/12/half-of-my-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6366894289130066543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6366894289130066543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/12/half-of-my-heart.html' title='Half of my heart.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-460638035948701934</id><published>2011-11-15T21:29:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T21:32:15.084-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hardest Thing.</title><content type='html'>I miss you. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not going to try anymore. I feel like its pointless now. I don't want to walk away, I don't. It feels like its over already. I'm the only one working for this. I want you to show me that you care. please. I need something to hold on to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-460638035948701934?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/460638035948701934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/hardest-thing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/460638035948701934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/460638035948701934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/hardest-thing.html' title='The Hardest Thing.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-610877549338287204</id><published>2011-11-06T21:30:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T21:39:54.466-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Papercut</title><content type='html'>so, he bailed on our anniversary date, was allowed to go to my cousin's second birthday party. I wanted to just be with him. no one else. no one from his family, no one from mine. just us. I miss him, I need him to just look at me and know something is wrong. I don't want to tell him, he has to find out by himself. I don't know why I can't do this. Today he came over, gave me an anniversary present because I gave him one. I didn't want to give him one, honestly. I just need him to know that he means something to me. Today after he looked at what those shirts looked like on me, he played street fighter with my brother, then when we got to the party he was playing with my little cousin. he would barely pay attention to me, and questioned when I would want to sit next to him. I wanted to make covers with him, he refused. I got really mad. I didn't even make a cover. I just left him hanging. ugh. I feel so bad, but I just feel so shitty. UGH. he wouldn't stop talking to my cousin, who's also his classmate, who sees him atleast once a week. seeing him once a month is lucky for me, and he's spending it talking to someone he can talk to at school. maybe I'm just being bitchy, because I'm still pretty bitter from the cancellation of our date. everything was perfect. I bought a new dress, with matching jewelry. everything was set. I went to visit him at his clinical, delivered his anni present, and a present for his cousin. he called me dumb. it really hurt. I know I am, just stop. ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-610877549338287204?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/610877549338287204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/papercut.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/610877549338287204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/610877549338287204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/papercut.html' title='Papercut'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-883301224223925600</id><published>2011-11-02T22:07:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T22:08:35.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>selfish.</title><content type='html'>*sigh the same thing over and over. I always just deal with it and then break down because he thinks I'm fucking crazy. same shit, different day. its just hard to deal with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-883301224223925600?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/883301224223925600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/selfish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/883301224223925600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/883301224223925600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/selfish.html' title='selfish.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-665839484152367379</id><published>2011-11-02T19:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T19:36:11.041-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This One Is For You.</title><content type='html'>seriously? this sucks. I know school is important. that has already been established. but why is OUR life being controlled by your mom? its OUR life, yes I know she gave life to you. whatever. but really? OUR ANNIVERSARY DATE? IS MOST LIKELY NOT GONNA HAPPEN? fuck. seriously. I'm tired of trying. trying so hard. what the fuck do you do? nothing. ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-665839484152367379?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/665839484152367379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/this-one-is-for-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/665839484152367379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/665839484152367379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/11/this-one-is-for-you.html' title='This One Is For You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-1200306151800866915</id><published>2011-10-22T16:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T16:42:12.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Think Of Me</title><content type='html'>yeah, this month has been really hard on me. my sister's pregnant. I'm pretty sure arjel wants to break up with him. I can't really make sense of this.. It's really mind boggling. I really don't have any ways to describe how I'm feeling at this moment. I feel so confused and lost. why? I don't even understand.. I'm confused. nevermind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-1200306151800866915?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/1200306151800866915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/think-of-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1200306151800866915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1200306151800866915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/think-of-me.html' title='Think Of Me'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3851594573911301202</id><published>2011-10-20T17:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-20T17:33:50.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nobody's Perfect.</title><content type='html'>So, he finally talked to me. almost 48 h since the last time he spoke to me. It's really annoying. How I almost broke down and called him. I'm trying to be strong. it's hard. its hard to be away from him, but its getting easier every time it happens. I don't know what I'm feeling right now. I just know that I'm bothered by my wisdom tooth extraction. I'm swollen right now. this is what happened; the week before my surgery, I PMS-ed and broke down everyday because I suck at uni. I was mainly a "participation" student, but obviously I don't have friends in my class so I dont participate. I just passed my psych midterm. I failed my bio midterm. I needed him to be there for me. He was. After my surgery, obviously I was been in pain, and I was pissy. So he left me, saying that he's pissed that I was pissy about everything. He said he'd call me in the morning, and at night. He didn't. You have no idea how disappointed I was about not hearing from him, the morning of my Bio Lab exam. I woke up late, my phone's alarm didnt go off. I woke up at 7, and I usually go to school at 730. I got to school at 7:30 though. My exam seemed fine. Class mates commented on my phone's bg and my laptop bg. its obviously me and arjel, everyone says "your boyfriend is cute" and I showed them his song. Like, even though he pissed me off, I wasn't afraid to show him off. I didn't know what that meant. But after my exam/lab I went home and fell asleep. I did my laundry and whatever. My pain was bad last night, so I went to sleep at 8. it sucked because I wanted my phone to play his ringtone. you have no idea how much I wanted it too. I'm tired of feeling like I'm the bad guy, and I'm always the first one to say sorry. I want him to want me as much as I want him. I want him to make an effort like I do. It sucks working so hard. I know he tries, but I just want him to try harder. He pinned me while I was sleeping today, he probably thought I was avoiding him. he can think that if he wants. But I want him to miss me. Thats it. I didn't want to pin back. I really didn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3851594573911301202?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3851594573911301202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/nobodys-perfect.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3851594573911301202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3851594573911301202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/nobodys-perfect.html' title='Nobody&apos;s Perfect.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6872979263272698775</id><published>2011-10-08T21:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T21:21:09.387-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Summer's Day.</title><content type='html'>idk. today kind of sucked. like f'real. I don't know what I'm doing wrong anymore. I feel like watching spirited away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6872979263272698775?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6872979263272698775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/one-summers-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6872979263272698775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6872979263272698775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/one-summers-day.html' title='One Summer&apos;s Day.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-1522013584613812901</id><published>2011-10-05T19:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T19:10:59.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Words I Say.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;today, after two weeks, I went to see my loving boyfriend. &amp;lt;3 It was actually very overwhelming, my heart bursted once I saw him and I started to bawl. It was a relief to my heart to see him. It sucks being away from him, all the time. I know sometimes talking should be enough, but he is so close yet feels so far. Might as well be a million miles away. But he's not. I took the chance and headed to arjel's house and then told him I was going to be there. we hung out at the park near his house. my life was set. I just wish time would have froze. So I could be with him for as long as I want. The moment he was walking with me holding my hand, was a moment that I'd want to last a lifetime. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sometimes I can't believe what I am seeing&lt;br /&gt;But I always see love that you are giving to me&lt;br /&gt;And I still don't know what lead me to you&lt;br /&gt;But I know this, this was meant to be&lt;br /&gt;And girl in your smile I see my everything&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-1522013584613812901?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/1522013584613812901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/words-i-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1522013584613812901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1522013584613812901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/words-i-say.html' title='Words I Say.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5233056455925689724</id><published>2011-10-02T21:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T21:09:00.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On My Way Here.</title><content type='html'>Oh God. I'm having an episode. like seriously. I don't know why it's so hard for me. Can we please not fight anymore? :( I really don't want to do this. Can you just say you're sorry for breaking your promise? please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5233056455925689724?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5233056455925689724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/on-my-way-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5233056455925689724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5233056455925689724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/10/on-my-way-here.html' title='On My Way Here.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5068545827280071501</id><published>2011-09-25T10:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-25T10:22:30.395-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fixing a Broken Heart.</title><content type='html'>Today. It will be the day where he misses me more than I miss him. I hope I go through with this. I need this to stop. Stop being so submissive to him. What am I supposed to do? He gets me mad all the time, but I always stop being mad at him because I love him more than I love being right. I swallow my pride for him. He's my whole world, I'd be nothing without him. SEE, now I want to talk to him and tell him how much I love and miss him. my heart still hurts, but I know I love him and nothing would change that. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;stop Ardia. stop. You're supposed to be mad. Stop missing him, just for a while. be away from him for a while. take a breather. please, this is good for you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5068545827280071501?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5068545827280071501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/fixing-broken-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5068545827280071501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5068545827280071501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/fixing-broken-heart.html' title='Fixing a Broken Heart.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-1279338499947828175</id><published>2011-09-24T22:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T22:49:20.452-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wet The Bed.</title><content type='html'>so, I finally saw one of my friend's bf sing. my friend's a guy. let me just get that out there. they're bf and bf. My friend's bf sings very well. I love a voice on a guy, especially if its one who can make good riffs. my bf totally just fucking got all bitchy and made me fucking feel so shitty. it took a while, but he told me he was jealous. jealous that i was getting all cheesed over someone elses voice. what the FUCK am i supposed to do when you're not around 99% of the time. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ugh. I had such a good day today, too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-1279338499947828175?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/1279338499947828175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/wet-bed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1279338499947828175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1279338499947828175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/wet-bed.html' title='Wet The Bed.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-7029416408309125772</id><published>2011-09-22T08:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T08:12:33.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking of You.</title><content type='html'>I visited him yesterday, he was sick. I think I'm getting sick, but I always get sick, for no apparent reason. I seem to make most of the effort. But at least I'm trying. I may be thinking other things, but I still make the effort. No matter what, Arjel will be my number one. I know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-7029416408309125772?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/7029416408309125772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/thinking-of-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/7029416408309125772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/7029416408309125772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/thinking-of-you.html' title='Thinking of You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-7466738993037292550</id><published>2011-09-14T13:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T13:36:06.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My moment.</title><content type='html'>I'm jealous. I know I was. I yelled at my phone. Said things I shouldn't have. but no one was around to hear it. But that doesn't make it okay. who in their right mind would not be jealous? He's spending everyday with other people, and he's not allowed to see you. WHO. WOULDN'T. BE. JEALOUS? ugh. don't get mad at me. fuck you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-7466738993037292550?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/7466738993037292550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-moment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/7466738993037292550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/7466738993037292550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-moment.html' title='My moment.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-9167844118840020293</id><published>2011-09-13T21:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T21:09:05.642-05:00</updated><title type='text'>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkMlpf1Yxcs&amp;feature=player_embedded#!</title><content type='html'>It's untitled. I love this song &amp;lt;3&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so.. last night I cried when I said bye, I started to cry. he told me he cried after also. He didn't sleep for two hours. I asked him why he didnt call me. He said "if I called you, I wouldn't have fallen asleep" it made me sad, and happy at the same time. I miss him. I cannot stress that enough. I love the way he says "babe" and when he says "I love you" in the most sincerest way. I love the feeling that I'm loved, no matter how I look day-by-day, no matter how much I upset him one day. He still is the one who thinks of me. I love him. I always will. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-9167844118840020293?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/9167844118840020293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/httpwwwyoutubecomwatchvnkmlpf1yxcs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9167844118840020293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9167844118840020293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/httpwwwyoutubecomwatchvnkmlpf1yxcs.html' title='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkMlpf1Yxcs&amp;feature=player_embedded#!'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5911713091856890234</id><published>2011-09-13T19:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T19:14:07.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Songbird.</title><content type='html'>Today, was a very VERY good day. Arjel called me this morning and woke me up, he told me he loves me. I went to class, paid attention. went to my other class, took more notes. It's really frustrating because i'm just on the waiting list and I don't know if I should buy the textbook. But whatever. After that I hung out w/ yvanne and dylan. we went to the chapel, then hung out at the duckworth w/ kimmy. dylan got me a london fog &amp;lt;3. I talked to yvanne about the world. marygrace came &amp;lt;3 then I went to psych w/ dylan. we were bored out of our minds. I miss arjel so much, but I liked today. He made me almost-cry today, he was sad because I was sad. I can't help it. I try not to cry. ugh. boo :( ANYWAYS. i went to dmci w/ dylan, jasmine and ate carmel. then I went home. My day was very good. no matter what I'm going to miss arjel, but I just need to know how to deal with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5911713091856890234?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5911713091856890234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/songbird.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5911713091856890234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5911713091856890234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/songbird.html' title='Songbird.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3064607941966684272</id><published>2011-09-12T07:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T07:58:34.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Promise You.</title><content type='html'>It's waiting all this time, and finally seeing him. FINALLY seeing him. It makes it all worth it. He still gives me butterflies in my tummy and makes me wanna hold his hand and kiss him all the time. When I finally was with him, I knew why I was fighting for us for so long. I know I was on the verge of breaking up with him, but I didn't. I knew I didn't want to once I talked to him about it. He loves me so much and I know it. I cannot lose him, I refuse to. Please knock some sense into me next time I become crazy. thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3064607941966684272?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3064607941966684272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-promise-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3064607941966684272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3064607941966684272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-promise-you.html' title='I Promise You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5996677279384386891</id><published>2011-09-11T11:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T11:35:46.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends.</title><content type='html'>I'm going to see him, its been a little bit over a week.  I'm scared, for some weird reason. I think its either, I'll be so excited to see him or that it'll just hurt. I don't want to let go of anything. I don't want to end it. But it just keeps hurting and hurting, he's obviously doing nothing to help. I want him to miss me as much as I miss him. It's really frustrating. :( I'm being told by people I trust the most, ro just end it. I love him, I am IN LOVE with him. will he agree with me? or will he want to make this work? I want him to fight for me. Try to see me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5996677279384386891?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5996677279384386891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5996677279384386891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5996677279384386891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/friends.html' title='Friends.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8994417703669271447</id><published>2011-09-09T23:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-09T23:03:54.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful.</title><content type='html'>I have never felt so ugly in my whole entire life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8994417703669271447?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8994417703669271447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/beautiful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8994417703669271447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8994417703669271447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/beautiful.html' title='Beautiful.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-771956839681203703</id><published>2011-09-08T12:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T13:36:34.434-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Better In Time.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I just had a conversation, holding back rivers of tears. I feel so detached. I feel so lost. I'm being extremely honest. He knows how much I'm in love with him and I think that he can just take advantage of it. Everything just totally sucks. I'm trying to be strong. But I'm not trying hard enough. I just constantly keep giving up on me. I keep wondering if all these tears are worth it. All these heartaches. my yearning. I don't know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-771956839681203703?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/771956839681203703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/better-in-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/771956839681203703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/771956839681203703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/better-in-time.html' title='Better In Time.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4491635907754593285</id><published>2011-09-08T12:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T12:18:11.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Someone Like You.</title><content type='html'>university day one. I'm in love with the fact that I am a university student. My classes seem pretty stable, except for the one where I'm just on the waitlist. But I know something will work out. It just sucks, walking around not recognizing anyone's face. It sucks. I miss him so much. I don't even know how much or even if he misses me. I cry all the time. I need to stop. I need to be strong. ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4491635907754593285?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4491635907754593285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/someone-like-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4491635907754593285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4491635907754593285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/someone-like-you.html' title='Someone Like You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-707430180715626462</id><published>2011-09-06T13:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T13:23:39.178-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love of a Lifetime.</title><content type='html'>This morning, after I took a shower I looked at my phone and said "one missed call" and arjel's light was blinking. I called him back, no answer. It said he called around 7:15 and I was done at 7:20. I pinned him and pinged him. He called me back. I was wondering why he called me so early, and why he was awake. He said he wanted to give me a wake up call and to tell me to have a good day. I started crying. I was scared of everything. I still am, as I'm writing this. Today was only my orientation. I missed him so much. It hurts not seeing him all the time. But what I'm doing right now, is for our future. for us. I need to fight with everything I have not to ruin what we have. It's normal for me to cry all the time now, but my heart has never hurt so much. But if you think about it, when something breaks, it can repair itself and possibly become stronger. I miss him. I miss him with my everything. He's always going to be in my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-707430180715626462?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/707430180715626462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/love-of-lifetime.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/707430180715626462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/707430180715626462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/love-of-lifetime.html' title='Love of a Lifetime.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4214088808674657368</id><published>2011-09-05T09:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T09:12:39.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Like This.</title><content type='html'>This is for us. This is for &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;our&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; future. I will take every second I get to see him. I've taken it for granted when I saw him everyday for 3 years of my life. Now I regret it. I regret not making a move with him earlier. He said he misses me more than I miss him. I love him with everything I have. I'd take all the times I was mad at him and hung up, just so I could talk to him longer. I'd give anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4214088808674657368?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4214088808674657368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/love-like-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4214088808674657368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4214088808674657368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/love-like-this.html' title='Love Like This.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5761042849015522254</id><published>2011-09-04T21:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T00:14:38.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fight For Love.</title><content type='html'>this really hurts. He's heard it a million times. I know he has. I cry and cry about it. Nothing has been done. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.. and now I'm okay, 2 hours later. oh how I love this kid too much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5761042849015522254?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5761042849015522254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/fight-for-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5761042849015522254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5761042849015522254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/fight-for-love.html' title='Fight For Love.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2558223260797923142</id><published>2011-09-04T15:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T15:17:55.277-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alone.</title><content type='html'>The ticking of the clock never seemed so loud. My thoughts and emotion run as I sit here alone in my room. I'm scared. Scared of everything. Scared for my future. Yes, you've heard this a million times. All those plans I've made with him, I yearn with every molecule in my body for them to come true. Being away from him is so hard now. It's the middle of the day. I miss him so much and I don't know how to handle it. 10 months, all these feelings are still so fresh. I have that pain in my heart, its just like its missing something.. or more like its missing someone. How will I survive this? This is so emotionally straining. How will I focus? Will this work? I love him too much to let him go but what if it was the right thing to do? &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2558223260797923142?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2558223260797923142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2558223260797923142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2558223260797923142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/alone.html' title='Alone.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2306367769388173480</id><published>2011-09-02T21:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T22:09:19.035-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealous.</title><content type='html'>It's weird, but this position is far too familiar. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;falling for someone, and they end up falling for someone they "used" to have feelings for. And you're just left here with a heart full of feelings and no where to put them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm scared. What is this feeling and why has it come? please.. prove me wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2306367769388173480?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2306367769388173480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/jealous.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2306367769388173480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2306367769388173480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/09/jealous.html' title='Jealous.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5220221331270464481</id><published>2011-08-31T21:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T21:20:43.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fix You.</title><content type='html'>more like.. "fix me.. please" &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;what am I supposed to do? how is this even happening? what is wrong with the world? This may all seem like its my period's emotions. I'm pretty sure that those emotions intensify them. Nothing is ever going to be okay. nothing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're fucking crazy. fuck you. I fucking hate you. mom says not to hate you, but I FUCKING HATE YOU. get the fuck away from us. get the fuck out of this house. I defend you in my mind way too many times. all I remember of you is bad things. fuck you all. get your fucking mom out of this fucking house. I do not need this right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5220221331270464481?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5220221331270464481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/fix-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5220221331270464481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5220221331270464481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/fix-you.html' title='Fix You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2165449507759620320</id><published>2011-08-29T20:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T20:44:48.367-05:00</updated><title type='text'>7 things.</title><content type='html'>What do I want really? I spent the day telling myself I'd preoccupy myself I end up online window shopping for something to wear for my 10 monthaversarey date. Also, thinking about not to answer his phone calls, but now I just want to hear his voice. I hate how much I love him. I hate how I cannot stay mad at him. This pain is fucking killing me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7 things I hate about you:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- your perfectionism&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- your insecurities&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- the fact that you can't see me all the time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- you don't let me pay for things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- how you hate the color orange, or polka dots&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- sometimes you don't hear what I want to say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- how much I know you love me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7 things I like about you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- your scent&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- the way your eyes look when you mean something&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- the way you say my name &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- your laugh&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- the way it feels when you're holding me in your arms&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- how just the sound of your voice gives me butterflies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- how much I know you love me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2165449507759620320?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2165449507759620320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/7-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2165449507759620320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2165449507759620320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/7-things.html' title='7 things.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5139220525026132457</id><published>2011-08-29T00:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T00:17:11.838-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 19px; font-family:'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;p style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px !important; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;I am human. I get mad. I make mistakes, especially in this relationship. I can be bi-polar at times, I admit it. I get frustrated with you, you bet I do. You do the dumbest things to get &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; angry. I say the dumbest things to get&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;angry. No matter what, there will &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-bottom: 0px !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; be a point where either of us do something wrong. When I realize I’m wrong, I stutter my words to figure out what to say, because I just want to be right. When you realize you’re wrong you go silent for a pretty long time and then say “I’m sorry” in the most sincerest tone. Arguments are one of the things that can make or break a relationship. It’s not the argument itself, but how we can handle it and how it strengthens the bond between both of us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;em style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; are difficult, you know what makes me tick, you frustrate the hell out of me. I’m so tired of feeling this way. If this is what it takes to be with you, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;then so be it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; No matter the reason for this,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-bottom: 0px !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; I am willing to fight for us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;. Because there obviously isn’t an “us” without you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5139220525026132457?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5139220525026132457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/beautiful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5139220525026132457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5139220525026132457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/beautiful.html' title='Beautiful'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-9018739006385968409</id><published>2011-08-28T23:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T23:41:42.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Keep On Loving You From A Distance.</title><content type='html'>Where am I supposed to start? I fuck up. I'm not perfect. There is something wrong with me. I know there is, somewhere. I'm just so tired of missing you all the time. So you technically hung up on me, no "bye" or "i love you". just "i guess I should be sleeping then" then nothing. my heart constantly breaks when we have these fights, or I have feelings of sadness because of something you did. There are times where I choose not to talk to you. But I give in. that one pin, that one tweet. Everything makes me miss you all the time. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of missing you. I'm not tired of you. I'm just tired of missing you. I know what you're gonna say if I said this to your face "you cant always miss me, I cant always be on your mind" well I guess I've done the impossible. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-9018739006385968409?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/9018739006385968409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/cant-keep-on-loving-you-from-distance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9018739006385968409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9018739006385968409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/cant-keep-on-loving-you-from-distance.html' title='Can&apos;t Keep On Loving You From A Distance.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8445835840500062499</id><published>2011-08-28T18:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T18:33:37.582-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Long Sweet Summer...</title><content type='html'>once again. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I havent been posting lately. I just wanted to enjoy my summer, or whats left with it. I spend the majority of my week w/ arjel, but also with my cousin and siblings. We went swimming. I just went to the corn festival in Morden w/ Arjel's family. It was really good. I love spending time with arjel and his family. everything just feels right. I just watched clock stoppers a few hours ago. I kinda wish I had that watch. To stop time, a second feels like an hour. I'd be with my boyfriend forever. I love him to pieces. If only. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8445835840500062499?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8445835840500062499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/so-long-sweet-summer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8445835840500062499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8445835840500062499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/so-long-sweet-summer.html' title='So Long Sweet Summer...'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2106294600277668304</id><published>2011-08-22T15:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T16:00:41.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Do You Tell?</title><content type='html'>So, obviously I'm here because I refuse to get anyone else into this situation. Keeping to myself most of the day. this is one of the most depressing days I've ever had. I didn't know what to think of anything. I cried for 10 mins last night. one of my previous posts were about how real pain only lasts 12 minutes. I guess I'm not stronger then I thought I was. I felt like I was strong. I was indestructible. You can make me cry, but you will not break my spirit. I need therapy. I'm fucked up in the head. Magnum P.I couldn't even solve what's going on in there. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I refuse to let myself answer his phone calls. I want to be myself. Before I met him. 10 months ago. I don't care if im heartbroken. If he wants to break up with me, so be it. I will not force him to be my boyfriend if he doesnt want to. Heartbreak takes time to heal, I don't want to live a lie anymore. This makes me so frustrated. I feel like shit right now. If I didn't have a boyfriend it would be so much better. seriously. I need this to stop. I don't want to do this anymore. not anymore. I know I keep saying these things to myself. But I don't know what else to do. I havent tweeted all day because I refuse to let him know how I feel anymore, because It always seems to backfire. ALL the time, when I want to get MY opinion, it seems like its one of the seven deadly sins. If he read this blog, he'd break up with me in a milli-second. The instant he reads my posts of anger. my posts of past loves. he'd be jealous and frustrated at the same time. He needs to stop getting jealous of me. I constantly get jealous of him, he has fun with his family. His family loves him unconditionally. My family just runs away from their problems, which causes the problems to escalate. He has his life to live, I interfere because he has to "make time" for me. I'm pretty sure I'm only mad at him because when I talked to Averey, he never said bye to me. He was there all the time for me, when I needed him, he was right there. He was constantly on the line, it was a comfortable silence when we were sleeping on the phone together. He was the last and first thing I heard. It just felt good. To have someone there for you. Is he the person I thought averey was? am I trying to make him the person I fell in love with before him? was I trying to fill in the void? I'm really confused. am I not in love with the person he is? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2106294600277668304?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2106294600277668304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/who-do-you-tell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2106294600277668304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2106294600277668304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/who-do-you-tell.html' title='Who Do You Tell?'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2236417705800781072</id><published>2011-08-22T00:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T00:56:36.857-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dying To Live Again.</title><content type='html'>I just raged.. again. It was out of line this time. But why would he tell me to change? everything is in your favor bitch. I just want to have time to talk to you. You wanted me to fucking break up with you. you totally pushed it. I'm so glad you can't fucking see it. again, our 10 months is almost here. I want to be here for you, but you're a fucking bitch. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2236417705800781072?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2236417705800781072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/dying-to-live-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2236417705800781072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2236417705800781072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/dying-to-live-again.html' title='Dying To Live Again.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-879447572062922072</id><published>2011-08-21T21:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T21:30:49.147-05:00</updated><title type='text'>unpretty.</title><content type='html'>i just raged out on my boyfriend. I got really mad. did I have a right to? well I don't know. I just broke out. he just said "sorry." and now hes waiting in silence as I'm typing this. like I did not wait three days for him to fucking call me "rude" and get all up in my grill. like what the fuck yo. what you did wasn't even necessary. my heart is fucking hurting right now because of this. you call me at 12 last night saying "i just called to say goodnight because im going to sleep" and then you tell me now that you slept at 2? like FUCK YOU. "i was trying to sleep" isnt a good fucking answer. you're fucking watching tv. fuck you, you fucking whore. you call yourself a "boyfriend" and you cant even consider my feelings. ugh.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;an another thing. my dad is a fucking prick today. he wants me to get my case "custom made" because he doesnt want me buying things off the internet. like FUCK my computer sucks fucking balls. i fucking hate this. UGH.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-879447572062922072?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/879447572062922072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/unpretty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/879447572062922072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/879447572062922072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/unpretty.html' title='unpretty.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6036857451474171509</id><published>2011-08-21T00:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T00:09:24.790-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still thinkin' about you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 8px; margin-right: 12px; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.4; font-weight: normal; background-position: 50% 0%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; "&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you're not gonna call me, just let me know. I refuse to continue to sit by my phone waiting for you to fucking call me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;or&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you're going to make me wait for your call, and you do call. Don't leave a minute later. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6036857451474171509?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6036857451474171509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/still-thinkin-about-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6036857451474171509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6036857451474171509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/still-thinkin-about-you.html' title='Still thinkin&apos; about you.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-9149079967440310503</id><published>2011-08-19T23:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T00:04:38.414-05:00</updated><title type='text'>won't even start.</title><content type='html'>goodbye summer. farewell heat, I'm pretty sure I won't miss you that much.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, I had an interview. I should be happy. Don't get me wrong, I am. I feel like I need arjel. I need to hear is voice now. It gives me the drive to chase away the sorrows. My heart drops when he said he would call and doesn't. But it drops when he says he isn't going to talk to me at all. "me"  day is "don't talk to ardia" day. he still has the balls to tweet while he's not talking to me. I don't know why I'm so mad all the time, why everything just hates me. I hate this, I fucking hate this. I don't want to need someone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-9149079967440310503?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/9149079967440310503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/wont-even-start.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9149079967440310503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9149079967440310503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/wont-even-start.html' title='won&apos;t even start.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2358610307695572822</id><published>2011-08-18T22:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T22:16:48.669-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Know Why.</title><content type='html'>I fucked up. I made a mistake. I over-reacted. he loves me, I have to remember that. I miss him. My heart hurts. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2358610307695572822?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2358610307695572822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/dont-know-why.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2358610307695572822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2358610307695572822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/dont-know-why.html' title='Don&apos;t Know Why.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4385302957855103038</id><published>2011-08-16T11:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T11:31:25.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Could Be Happy.</title><content type='html'>The shit I do for you willingly, even when you say "no" to it. You think this having a private blog is shady? I'm sorry that I'm not going to anyone else with my problems other than you. I'm sorry for not breaking your trust and going to the internet for condolence. I'm so angry right now, I'm just gonna keep talking here until I can't. You frustrate me, to the freaking core. I just can't let you go. I have visions of us together for all time. I want these visions to come true. I want to be with you. I want to be able to finally call you mine, without the fear of losing you. Can you just not? please, I want to know its going to be okay between us. Just "okay" not "perfect" there's nothing that brings us closer then after a fight. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;maybe it's the shitty weather thats making me like this. or my jealousy. I know I shouldn't be jealous. I can't help it though. I'm poisoning myself. I'm conditioning myself to feel like this. It's so wrong. I just want to be consoled.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4385302957855103038?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4385302957855103038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/you-could-be-happy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4385302957855103038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4385302957855103038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/you-could-be-happy.html' title='You Could Be Happy.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3095609129307701634</id><published>2011-08-10T21:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T22:10:57.800-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealous.</title><content type='html'>do I feel left out? yes. But I don't want to bother you about anything right now. You already have too much on your plate, and obviously I do too.  It's just you're so busy with your life and I'm doing absolutely nothing. I think I'm poisoning myself. It kinda really hurts. You want to hang out with your jr high friends, cool. Will there be girls? yes. will there be the girl that I know about but not know who she is and will she be there? maybe. I don't know. I guess I'm scared about that too. His "dance group" also my friends are always having practice. He seems to have more time to "practice" they barely practice. He's barely allowed to see me. Which bothers me too. It hurts, hurts like a bitch. I doubt they'll make it. But I think that its because I'm jealous of the time he spends with them. And I don't want him to be far away if he makes it. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other day we were talking about our "future" or the one that we hope to have together. It got me scared. I don't know what I'm going to do because I don't know if I'm good enough. like come on bro, me? being a doctor? That's not gonna happen. I'm not good enough, lets be real about it. Like really? do you think of all people in the world, I would be successful? I'd love to be, trust me. But with everything I've been through, my lack of dedication to school work and my laziness who would think I'd be, of all people, successful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so otp w/ my boyfriend. He didnt answer a question I asked. I hate that awkward silence between us. He either didnt hear the question, or did and isnt answering. like seriously fuck, don't complain about shit if you dont want me to do anything about it. like shut the fuck up. I'm sorry, I'm raging here because I can't rage on the phone. I dont type a lot anymore because MSN is so a million years ago and every one is just on their phones and stuff. Everyone has a cellphone now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;bipolar. I'm happy now. ugh. Its so annoying how he can just flip around an emotion like its a fucking pancake. but idk he cant really cook. omg k i'll just shut up now, I'm taking nonstop now. tee tee why elle yo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3095609129307701634?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3095609129307701634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/jealous.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3095609129307701634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3095609129307701634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/jealous.html' title='Jealous.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3925438730167338899</id><published>2011-08-08T10:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T10:02:02.291-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lets Stay Together.</title><content type='html'>I spent last night crying hysterically. I have no idea how he thinks of me anymore. I wish I did know. I wish I knew a lot of things. P.U.S.H&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3925438730167338899?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3925438730167338899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/lets-stay-together.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3925438730167338899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3925438730167338899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/lets-stay-together.html' title='Lets Stay Together.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5467943740812117059</id><published>2011-08-07T00:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T00:53:31.597-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Foolish Heart.</title><content type='html'>I'm a broken puzzle piece. He's got a picture perfect family.. Is this really necessary? Why do I even feel this way? Why am I making myself feel this way? Am I taking it all out on myself? I'm so confused with emotions. I don't even know where to start anymore. It's everything. I'm just tired of this. Tired of everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5467943740812117059?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5467943740812117059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/foolish-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5467943740812117059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5467943740812117059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/foolish-heart.html' title='Foolish Heart.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8872160733482439244</id><published>2011-08-05T19:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T19:10:28.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotionless.</title><content type='html'>I'm emotionally confused. I know I should look at the brighter side of things, but I dont. Its like you prepare yourself for the worst as you think of the best thing that could happen. He had a picture perfect family, mine is just broken. is this even worth it? I love being with his family, all the time. my family is just fight after fight. urgh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8872160733482439244?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8872160733482439244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/emotionless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8872160733482439244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8872160733482439244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/emotionless.html' title='Emotionless.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-56805979155398724</id><published>2011-08-02T18:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T18:22:47.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home.</title><content type='html'>so he's home. surprisingly, I'm not as happy as I wanted to be. Maybe because I'm not done my project yet. yeah.. thats the reason..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-56805979155398724?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/56805979155398724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/56805979155398724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/56805979155398724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/home.html' title='Home.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8371511645858342242</id><published>2011-08-02T00:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:32:53.109-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 9, Honestly.</title><content type='html'>9 days without you. the longest I've ever gone without you. You barely talked to me today.. well as in yesterday. Because it was our 9 months. I just want you back home, safe. I miss you hun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8371511645858342242?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8371511645858342242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/day-9-honestly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8371511645858342242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8371511645858342242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/day-9-honestly.html' title='Day 9, Honestly.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5375137267717168473</id><published>2011-08-01T15:08:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:29:16.005-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 8 pt 2, Next 2 You.</title><content type='html'>We're made for one another; me and you and I have no fear, I know we'll make it through...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;right before I fell asleep, I cried for about 5 minutes. At least I think it was about 5 minutes. It felt like an hour to be honest, but everything feels longer when you're not enjoying the moment. I know I shouldn't even care about how much it hurts, it shouldn't be like this. what is wrong with me? everything is so different now. He's probably gonna talk non-stop about his trip. gyan's gone good. but I'm going to the philippines next year, so it would only make sense for me to be bored this year after my debut. I honestly don't miss the stress. it's something I'd rather live without. Abby's debut is the year after that. next year will also be the baptisim of my tita's kid because shes having her child this year, at least I think she is. maybe I can actually go to this one this time. I feel bad for not going to the others. I love my cousins. The past week has been family, straight family. No friends what so ever. yeah, I don't know where I'm going with this anymore, I'm just speaking my mind as I watch Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is my 9 months, as already stated in the last post, with my boyfriend. I wish he could at least be in the same country as I am. -_-" thats all..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5375137267717168473?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5375137267717168473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/day-9-pt-2-next-2-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5375137267717168473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5375137267717168473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/day-9-pt-2-next-2-you.html' title='Day 8 pt 2, Next 2 You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4195594958944812026</id><published>2011-08-01T01:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:28:51.947-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 8, All Yours.</title><content type='html'>Today is gonna suck. Being away from you, especially today will just suck. I miss you arjel, come back :( even if its just for today. I wanna hear your voice, I want you to hug me. I wanna know you love me and that you're thinking of me. :'(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4195594958944812026?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4195594958944812026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/day-9-all-yours.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4195594958944812026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4195594958944812026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/08/day-9-all-yours.html' title='Day 8, All Yours.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5141321549423520075</id><published>2011-07-31T22:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:27:03.608-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 7, Kiss Me Thru The Phone.</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;... see you when I get home."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my sadness is taking over now. He loves me, I know he does. Why does it hurt so much on our 9 months that you're not here. and you didn't even bother to say it first. Honestly, I'm mad at myself for feeling like this because I know I shouldn't. A lot of people say "the little things count" they do, but that cant always be what you look for. The big things are right in front of you. Lets thing about the "big" things about mine and my boyfriend's relationship. we're still together. obviously. we love each other. trust is an issue, but we're still working through it, that's what a relationship is supposed to do. Help two people to grow with each other. I will love him until my very last breath, you have no idea. I feel better no. thank you internet for being here for me. &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5141321549423520075?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5141321549423520075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-8-kiss-me-thru-phone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5141321549423520075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5141321549423520075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-8-kiss-me-thru-phone.html' title='Day 7, Kiss Me Thru The Phone.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8266912461686668748</id><published>2011-07-31T12:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:26:25.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 7, I decided.</title><content type='html'>I woke up to my boyfriend's color flashing, light blue. He wished me a good morning. Every time he tells me what to do, It eventually happens. I love how he's thinking about me when hes a million miles away from me. &amp;lt;3 I realized as the days got closer to his return, it's been happy posts. I never really posted happy thoughts because this is my great escape from the world and the only place I can be myself without people thinking I'm too dramatic. That is totally fine, everything is coming together slowly. two weeks baby, one week down. another one to go. I'm half way there. I need to finish the scrapbook, and my harry potter marathon, and my avatar marathon w/ ria and gyan. marjo's gonna come over and play the wii we just recently had gotten. busy busy. I love my life, but part of it's missing. all in good time it shall come back . I miss you arjel hernandez. &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8266912461686668748?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8266912461686668748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-8-i-decided.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8266912461686668748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8266912461686668748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-8-i-decided.html' title='Day 7, I decided.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3766366080679706138</id><published>2011-07-30T22:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:25:59.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6, Lullaby.</title><content type='html'>I'm excited for him to come home. Thats in about a week. Our 9 months is on monday. it is currently july 30th right now. three more months until our first anni &amp;lt;3 we're strong we got this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3766366080679706138?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3766366080679706138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-7-lullaby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3766366080679706138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3766366080679706138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-7-lullaby.html' title='Day 6, Lullaby.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5272761016522187341</id><published>2011-07-30T13:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:25:38.508-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6, The Way You Are.</title><content type='html'>that overwhelming feeling of happiness when I see his color flashing on my phone. I miss hearing his voice, but I won't let him see it. I will not be the weak one, when clearly I am. I don't know what I'm doing today, I feel so bored with my life. That is all. I usually have a lot to say, but its all said and done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5272761016522187341?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5272761016522187341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-7-way-you-are.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5272761016522187341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5272761016522187341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-7-way-you-are.html' title='Day 6, The Way You Are.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3589699988006455979</id><published>2011-07-29T20:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:25:23.592-05:00</updated><title type='text'>day 5, getaway.</title><content type='html'>I'm fine now. no more anger, no more sadness. He can be gone for a month for all I care. I'm totally fine w/ that. I guess its because he tweeted to the whole world "I miss @arjaaah :(" because if he really did miss me, he'd talk to me. thats exactly what he did. now he tweets non-stop and its kind of annoying. My mom just walked by and said that she missed him. I miss him too, I'm just tired of it hurting, so it doesnt.. well not as much, its a very miniscule feeling now. all at the back of my heart. I'm just working our scrapbook. it gives me something to do. It should keep making me miss him, it doesn't I just keep thinking of him and how much I love him and how he'd react to each page. :) no more tears and sobs. just all smiles from here. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3589699988006455979?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3589699988006455979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-6-getaway.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3589699988006455979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3589699988006455979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-6-getaway.html' title='day 5, getaway.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2073119028972708922</id><published>2011-07-28T19:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:25:08.899-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 4, all or nothing.</title><content type='html'>this song isn't completely relevant to what I feel. It just somewhat relates to how I do. So he finally texts me daily, but its not enough for me to stop from missing him. I don't want to miss him so much. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;His texts say he misses me, but I feel like it's not enough. My heart, just completely aches. I don't know if this is worth it. Every time I tell myself that, it makes me wonder. If I can last with all these "getaways" no contact. the only thing he can "getaway" from is me. I know I'm just being a negative nelly, but still. This depression needs to stop. I feel like its not even necessary to feel like this. I was feeling pretty good this morning, I have no idea why. It just sucks how a mood can change so fast. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2073119028972708922?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2073119028972708922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-5-all-or-nothing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2073119028972708922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2073119028972708922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-5-all-or-nothing.html' title='Day 4, all or nothing.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-793353462157375008</id><published>2011-07-27T22:42:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:24:55.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3 Pt.2 , Breakdown.</title><content type='html'>So he just texted me. I sent him a text from a few days ago talking about how I finally got my school ID. He said he was proud of me. For some reason, when I read that, sadness overwhelmed me. I just really miss him. I know he's going to go on and on about the water parks.  he ended a text with "okay bye" I so I replied "I miss you. Thats all" I think thats why I don't want him to come back . I don't want to know how much fun he had without me. I try not to have without him, I try so hard not to. Because I don't want him to feel left out. Is that so wrong? He's having the time of his life without me. I want to have fun, but I don't know how. This just really sucks. I thought I was over it. I really thought I was. I thought I was over missing him so much that it hurts. idk. this really sucks now. ugh. I can't road trip with my family because of everything thats going on right now. Everyone is just full of depression. My parents and my brother don't have their passport yet, cause my dad keeps putting it off. My dad is the one that wants to go somewhere. but what do you really want? I don't want to road trip with this family because It's just gonna end up all sucky. I'm only going to go on road trips with my friends. I'm really sorry to anyone who reads this. This is my getaway, no matter what. No one knows I still blog about my life. It used to just be lovey-dovey stuff, now its just everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-793353462157375008?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/793353462157375008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-4-pt2-breakdown.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/793353462157375008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/793353462157375008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-4-pt2-breakdown.html' title='Day 3 Pt.2 , Breakdown.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5964293570832239040</id><published>2011-07-27T21:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:24:36.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3, Rollin In The Deep</title><content type='html'>nothing relevant about this song, its just been in my head for a few weeks.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;day 4, its getting easier to be away from you. I don't know if thats a good thing or not. It's just like last year, I had no one to talk to during the summer except the bbs. I was busy everyday, so I had no time to think about heartache. It's harder right now, being so attached to someone and they leave and there's no sign of them.. I'm starting to get mad, at least its better then being sad. Clearly, he doesn't want to talk to me. which makes me feel like shit. Honestly. I don't know why I'm so mad that everything is pissing me off. I don't really know what I'm supposed to be feeling. I don't want to be sad anymore. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of wasting tears on someone who doesn't care about anything I say. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; Having a marathon for myself, just because I can. My sister needs to stop getting her boyfriend to come over. I don't like that kid, especially right now. Maybe its because I'm jealous. But I never did like him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5964293570832239040?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5964293570832239040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-4-rollin-in-deep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5964293570832239040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5964293570832239040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-4-rollin-in-deep.html' title='Day 3, Rollin In The Deep'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-327953119273651441</id><published>2011-07-26T19:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:23:47.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2 pt2, Everytime.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Everytime you go away, my heart goes with you.&lt;br /&gt;Everytime you go away, my heart's torn in two.&lt;br /&gt;Is there something I can say?&lt;br /&gt;Won't you change the plan to make?&lt;br /&gt;'Cuz my heart can't stand the pain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;they say real pain only lasts 12 minutes, the rest is just self-inflicted. But what if, you're trying to forget about it and then think about it again? does the pain just keep adding on and on? I feel like it is. I need to get out, but there's no one to hang out with. Everyone is busy with their own lives, I've only decided to hang out with a few people this summer, obviously arjel, gyan and rowena and the sometimes marjo. ria and marjo are allergic to my cats, so its hard to ask if they want to come over. Gyan is at conference for yfc, and obviously arjel is gone and clearly, arjel's departure has been affecting me the most. three days, without any contact when I clearly asked for some. maybe it's a test? well, I don't like it. he wants to "get away" now im thinking that when he said that he was talking about me. I hate this test, but really, we're not supposed to. maybe he wants me not to need him so much? but this is his fault, I've been independent until we started dating. he told me to trust him, and that's all I've been trying to do. co-dependent is something that I never wanted to be. now I'm thinking about seeing how long I CAN last without him. I'm going to have to at some point. It's only tuesday. he's back next weekend. I can last for the next week, because I'm going to be hanging out with gyan and it's never boring with him, he's my best friend &amp;lt;3 this week is the hardest, staying home, looking for things to occupy myself while waiting for everyone to come home. I feel like everyone seems to be leaving and I'm just left alone in the boring life I have. This is my only getaway for a while. I hope that this is okay, my feelings aren't intense enough to have people reading this over and over again, feelings sorry for me. I'm fine, at least I think I am. I want to be. I'll be okay for now. It's hard not to miss arjel, but I do all the time. obviously he's not missing me. he's having the time of his life and he's not doing what he said he was doing "i'll be thinking of you all the time" pfft. whatever. It's not gonna affect me.. that much. I just gotta face that fact. But I got this, I assure you I will not do anything to myself. I will do what right, I will take care of myself. I'll do what you said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-327953119273651441?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/327953119273651441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-3-everytime.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/327953119273651441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/327953119273651441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-3-everytime.html' title='Day 2 pt2, Everytime.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2849785803416663675</id><published>2011-07-26T12:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T12:07:44.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2, without you.</title><content type='html'>still no calls, no tweet, no texts, no pins. your sister updates her bbm status. It hurts, when all I want is a reply from you, just to know you're safe. I miss you so much. can you just let me know? :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2849785803416663675?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2849785803416663675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-2-without-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2849785803416663675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2849785803416663675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-2-without-you.html' title='Day 2, without you.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-7022444316418107445</id><published>2011-07-24T21:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T21:58:32.665-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Me.</title><content type='html'>He already started to not miss me. He's just excited to get out of this world. I'm trying not to cry. Today is his last day and he's not even pinning me back, or calling me. My heart is kinda hurting right now. actually, its really hurting. oh well.. I guess I'm gonna have to deal with it. I'm just alone in my room sitting here listening to sad songs. No matter what I do, all I'll think about is him. I love him too much. I feel so empty already. I know hes busy, thats why I'm not constantly pinning him. He kept talking about his trip for the past few weeks and my heart just began to slowly hurt as he kept talking about it and as the day got closer and closer. Two weeks. the longest I've been away from him. I was so used to going to school and seeing him everyday and the weekend was so hard to not see him. It was only two days. It slowly got more bearable. Winter Break came, 10 days. But I got to see him on christmas, because I went to his family party with him. Made everything more bearable. second semester, we had almost every class together, every spare and every lunch hour. the best. exams slowly came, more studying, no more us time. school ended, constant cotillion practices, every day. My debut came. After that, once a week, twice a week tops. for 3-4 weeks. He's going to be gone for our 9th monthaverserey. this really sucks. I hate this. Everything hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-7022444316418107445?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/7022444316418107445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/missing-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/7022444316418107445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/7022444316418107445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/missing-me.html' title='Missing Me.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-472560236084581143</id><published>2011-07-23T13:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-23T13:35:50.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>suitcases and travel bags.</title><content type='html'>Why did you have to make me fall in love with you so much, and then leave the next day? I'm so heart broken. I know you'll be back. Everything will be and is currently so empty for me. I don't want to miss you. But thats all I can do right now. I'm sitting here on my bed wondering if yesterday was worth it. Spending the whole day with you. Knowing you'll be gone for 2 weeks. It would just make me miss you so much more. which obviously happened.  What am I supposed to do? Everyone is going on vacation. I'm stuck here doing nothing with my life and getting myself into problems that barely involve me. I miss you arjel. come back safely. I love you so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-472560236084581143?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/472560236084581143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/suitcases-and-travel-bags.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/472560236084581143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/472560236084581143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/suitcases-and-travel-bags.html' title='suitcases and travel bags.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2135651229318156539</id><published>2011-07-20T23:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T23:58:28.128-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everytime I Close My Eyes.</title><content type='html'>I'm tired of all the things you do that get me mad. I'm tired of all the fights we have that never get resolved. I'm tired of constantly feeling heartbreak every single day. I'm tired of being tired...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But no matter reasons, I'd only want to go through this with you. When you get me mad, you absolutely know how to make my happy. After fighting, we're just the way we were before the fight. after every heartbreak, I fall in love all over again with you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my boyfriend sang this song to me in front of all my closest friends and family. He recorded it on my laptop the last time that I was at his house. I just watched it.. and I cried. I'm going through a lot, once again. It hurts all the time. I told him, and only him. My boyfriend is also my bestfriend. I tell him anything and everything. I miss him every single moment he is not around me. My heart aches for him. He's going to leave for his trip soon. I don't know what I'm going to do without him for a few weeks. I know I can get through it, but I don't know if my heart will allow it, its like apart of me is going to go missing. God please give me strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2135651229318156539?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2135651229318156539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/everytime-i-close-my-eyes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2135651229318156539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2135651229318156539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/everytime-i-close-my-eyes.html' title='Everytime I Close My Eyes.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-111433108250760209</id><published>2011-07-20T18:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T18:26:46.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Honestly.</title><content type='html'>Ironic song, when being honest is so hard for me to believe. also, when it's the title of our song. I hate when you keep talking about it, because its something that I don't wanna deal with or talk about. I'm sure it's exciting for you but, obviously, its not for me. Can you please just SHUT UP ABOUT IT. I've been nice about it, and I will continue to be nice about it while you do not know that this exists, or the url of this site. I hate how every time I'm with you time is so limited. I'm not a child any longer, you and you're not. stop being treated like one. I don't know how long I can take this hurt. I hate how every time you say "I miss you" or "I love you" it erases everything. I cannot leave my anger as it is. I hate being weak. I hate regretting telling you what I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-111433108250760209?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/111433108250760209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/honestly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/111433108250760209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/111433108250760209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/honestly.html' title='Honestly.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4295698806870024953</id><published>2011-07-18T21:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T21:08:20.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>words.</title><content type='html'>I fucking hate that stupid song. I'm so negative lately. holy fuck. I look for things/people to bash on. I don't know why. I think I hate myself right now. This is so hard to even understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4295698806870024953?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4295698806870024953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/words.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4295698806870024953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4295698806870024953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/words.html' title='words.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-1165325909772643302</id><published>2011-07-17T23:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T23:08:48.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Late Friend.</title><content type='html'>you don't get it, do you? I spend every waking minute thinking about you and anticipating your call. I no longer reply to your pins early enough because its just a casualty now. It's just something that you're not doing cause you want to, but you're doing it because you're bored. I want you to WANT to talk to me. WANT to converse with me, and not just because you have nothing to do. Its been almost 9 months. What is it supposed to be like? I've never been with someone this long, but I've never felt farther away from someone. I miss you every waking second of every day. I really wish you read this and realized how frustrating this is. I want you to want me as much as I want you. I just don't know how I'm supposed to do it. can you help me fight for us as much as I do? please. I give the biggest hints ever, you're so oblivious and all you think about is yourself. Can you stop and care for me? I'm probably over-reacting because I'm stressed out. But it's not going to get any easier, we need to fight for this. This is all we have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-1165325909772643302?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/1165325909772643302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-late-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1165325909772643302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1165325909772643302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-late-friend.html' title='Day Late Friend.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8266915859344115333</id><published>2011-07-16T23:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T23:15:51.314-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Save You.</title><content type='html'>ugh I hate it when you pin me like this. obviously you don't understand how I feel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8266915859344115333?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8266915859344115333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/save-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8266915859344115333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8266915859344115333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/save-you.html' title='Save You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5284713550321017535</id><published>2011-07-15T08:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T09:03:12.145-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartbreak Warfare</title><content type='html'>head vs. heart. &lt;div&gt;I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this. I'm tired of keeping my mouth shut. or being forced to say something when when I ask you other questions you're so cold that you don't even budge. so don't tell me that you wanna know because "you care so much about me" just let me have my secrets. after all we've been through, everything I've done to get us here. I can be independent, I know I can. I hate only posting angry things. Every time I read back it just becomes a cloudy grey memory. Just like this morning. I woke up from his pins. I got more angry. URGH. what am I supposed to do with you? I'm not going to make rash decisions. Do not tempt me. I know I'll regret what I think I would say. just leave me be. I don't need this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5284713550321017535?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5284713550321017535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/heartbreak-warfare.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5284713550321017535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5284713550321017535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/heartbreak-warfare.html' title='Heartbreak Warfare'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-42130698495351950</id><published>2011-07-14T20:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T20:55:36.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There Will Never Be Another You.</title><content type='html'>stupid fucking song. I hate this. I hate practicing. I hate singing. I only like it because it's something to do to kill time. I will not have this take over my life. I hate how this stupid recording is in the middle of summer. fuck my life. I hope she fucking dies before the stupid recording so we dont have to continue this anymore. I hate been the kj, but im sorry I NEED TO FOCUS ON SCHOOL NOW. I pay for it. I paid for all my trips during school thats over 1500$ so fuck off. UGH. I don't need you right now. I have so many other things that I need to get over with. I hope everyone sees how just this date ruined my summer. I have to fucking leave my cousin, whom I havent seen in SIX years, and may not see for a while. fuck, i hate this stupid vocal jazz. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so, maybe he just lusts for me. Life feels so boring. hes locked up which makes me feel locked up with him. I don't wanna do anything without him if it doesnt involve family. he's leaving for his trip in about a week and a few days. Its not fair that he wants to read this. why can't I have more secrets. I'm just really pissed off at him. ugh. fuck. my life sucks. I hate this. I don't know what to do. I keep questioning myself, does that mean it's not worth it? apparently its not, if you keep questioning it. But this is different. this is so much more different then way before. I'm scared. scared to put trust into him. I feel so broken. why. why her? I always feel so intimidated by all the other girls. he has so much more fun with everyone else. I'm getting boring to him, I am assuming. his phone calls are just a casualty. He doesn't really wanna talk to me. I really wish I could read his mind, just to see where his heart is at, if he thinks of me, or when this will ever make sense and make it all worth every single ounce of my being. and every single tear. I need to make this work. I hate how I try so hard. I can't say "I love you" anymore without questioning myself. I do love him, but I'm just afraid of not being loved back . Everyone seems to get sick of me and is scared to let me know, so they have to somehow "trick" their way out of it. ugh. My head says no, my heart says to keep trying. I don't know how to feel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-42130698495351950?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/42130698495351950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/there-will-never-be-another-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/42130698495351950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/42130698495351950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/there-will-never-be-another-you.html' title='There Will Never Be Another You.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2391410093063286842</id><published>2011-07-14T18:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T18:04:32.414-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ugh.</title><content type='html'>maybe we should break up. you obviously have better things to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2391410093063286842?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2391410093063286842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/ugh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2391410093063286842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2391410093063286842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/ugh.html' title='ugh.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6151429263145005426</id><published>2011-07-10T23:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T00:29:45.371-05:00</updated><title type='text'>incomplete</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;the week before my debut, was the most stressful, difficult and... the most happiest time of my life. My sister and her child drove w/ my sister's boyfriend all the way from B.C to here. I graduated. I spent time w/ the love of my life, my family that I haven't seen in 6 years flew in just to celebrate me. My debut was a bitter sweet kinda feeling. It was good that people came just to celebrate me, it was really different. It weird being the centre of attention when you're not used to it. My boyfriend wanted to spend time with me during the event, but I was too busy greeting and keeping other occupied. My godchild, all he wanted was my attention but I could only give him about a maximum 30 seconds. Everyone who ever meant anything to me had come. The few who didn't come clearly don't give a shit about how I feel. its either you lied, or you don't even care. so a big FUCK YOU goes to you guys. not that you're gonna read this, or even care. Whatever, you're fucking loss. I forgot to invite some people because I never see them around, and I felt really bad. so my apologies. two weeks after my debut, I'm sitting in my room making this blog. My sister left earlier this week, on tuesday to be exact. They left at noon. We were all hanging out for a while, my godson didn't really understand what was going on, but once they actually left he was crying for me and all I could do was walk away because I didn't want him to see me cry. I didn't cry that day. I hung out with my boyfriend a few days after, at his house. we took pictures on my laptop where I literally bring everywhere. recorded a few things. that night, he called me. I cried so much. I cried every bit and piece of my soul. I cried about how I just walked away. How all I wanted was to watch my godchild grow up. I'd give everything for him to just stay and have a stable environment. He is the reason why im so strong. my boyfriend was crying too. He knows how much my godchild means to me. He loves him too. my boyfriend knows that he was the key to my happiness. I just wish he was here right now. I'm breaking apart slowly. Everything is beginning to feel so incomplete again. everyone I love is slowly leaving me. The day of my convocation, before my debut, my aunt in B.C had died from liver cancer. She was the aunt who everyone compared me to, and said I was just like her. I wanted her to see me turn 18. Her viewing was a few days ago. my dad was so sad he couldnt even go to work the next day because he cried so much. My sister got home in time for the funeral. Though I haven't gotten to know my aunt, she will forever be alive in my heart. Today one of my cousins from B.C had flown back. I still had my other cousin and my aunt still here. I don't want them to leave. They're the only things that keeps me from breaking down in front of everyone. I went from finally complete to broken all over again. I cried because my boyfriend said he wanted to go to sleep. I didn't want anyone I loved to leave me anymore. It hurts too much. :( I really need help. I need someone to cry on, I feel so weak all the time. I'm trying to spend every waking moment with my family. I don't know when I'll end. my boyfriend is going on vacation soon, hes gonna leave me. my bestfriend is going to a conference. what am I supposed to do without them?? :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6151429263145005426?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6151429263145005426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/incomplete.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6151429263145005426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6151429263145005426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/07/incomplete.html' title='incomplete'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2575278034905874529</id><published>2011-05-14T19:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T19:48:15.642-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Strangers, Again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Meeting, The Chase, Honeymoon, Comfortable, Tolerance, Downhill, and The Break-Up;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;7 stages of a relationship. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Honestly, after seeing this video, I was scared for my life. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so confused. Do I still love him? Does he still love me? are what we telling each other just words disguising our real emotions? I feel so lost, so alone right now. I feel like I'm trying to become accustomed to his life instead of compromising with each other. Am I wasting my time? I thought love was forever, but it just constantly hurts when it's always just me trying. All I want is to be needed in return. If I'm not, then what's the whole point? Tolerance. yup. I didn't point it out first. It's been bothering me for the longest time ever. Ever since we argued a few weeks ago. I assumed it was perfect two weeks ago. School trip, spending almost every waking minute together, even if we weren't awake, we were next to each other holding the other in our arms. Then the age 18 came out of nowhere. The surgery. The Blackberry. When we got back from the trip, all we did was catch up on the 3 days we missed of school work, but that took 2 weeks. I cant take this anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2575278034905874529?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2575278034905874529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/05/strangers-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2575278034905874529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2575278034905874529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/05/strangers-again.html' title='Strangers, Again.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5874589354699973350</id><published>2011-05-10T21:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T22:17:39.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So In Love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I don't know why I'm so in love with you. I know that, that is the only thing holding me back, but being without you won't fix anything of it. I wish there was a way where I just don't feel anything. I just feel like everything is holding me back from my true passion. I fucking hate this. I hate my life right now. Everything is so difficult. I'm pulling hermit on everyone, I feel like no one is worth hearing my story. Everyone deserves to be happy and not to dwell in my sorrow. I don't even know where to start. I want to ask myself "is this pain worth it?" "where is this taking me?" I feel that this relationship isn't reciprocating. I'm always the one trying to make time. I have all the time in the world for him. I want him to just be with me. Even just for a while. I'm pretty sure he feels forced and always tries to get out of it. usually with his newly legality and his new blackberry. I know we didn't fight like this before, but it means so much more then it did to me now. I fight back because I need him to know how I feel. He fights because I cry all the time. if you just HEAR ME OUT, let me tell my side and give time to understand how I feel. please. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;we're constantly told by many that we're perfect for each other. As a female, we constantly need someone to show us they love and appreciate us. Society has permanently embed in our minds that we are insufficient. I hate lying. It wears me down.. yeah, since I'm here. The other day, I wasn't just crying for the reason I said, there was a second part that triggered it. But clearly, that point is now obvious. This is a start. I don't know where I want to end. I don't know if it will. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I. don't. know. why. I'm. so. in. love. with. you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5874589354699973350?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5874589354699973350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-in-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5874589354699973350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5874589354699973350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-in-love.html' title='So In Love.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6337258500076401629</id><published>2011-03-15T23:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T23:53:40.221-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathe Again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;So, I just downloaded the Kaleidoscope Heart Album by Sara Barellies. I'm in love with it, just thought I'd start off on a lighter note.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;The other day in vocal jazz, we were talking about the song "Gravity" and the musical/emotional aspects of the song. the height of the song is in the bridge, but for everyone, there was a different part that gave them a strong emotion. I chose "I never wanted anything so much but to drown in your love and not feel your rain" I'm pretty good at explaining how I feel, because I don't hold it in for very long. Why have a chose that line? well next to "you loved me cause I'm fragile, when I thought that I was strong" that was the one that hit me the most. I wanted to be different because I knew that I needed my own opinion. But ANYWAYS, so.. my explanation of the line I chose was that.. Its just the kind of thing where you know that the journey towards your goal may be so far away, and it may not even be possible. But you just want it so much that it doesn't even matter how hard it is. Love is a drug, a highly addictive one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Love Drunk; I know that I can say that I've been there, still kinda there. Yenno the results in being drunk? the Hangover. the most painful thing in the world when its happening. So, the boyfriend and me are almost 5 months. yeah, its not that long. The beginning is always the hardest. We're settling our differences still. Our quirks are getting to each other. I love him for who he is, and I totally mean that. I still get goosebumps every time I tell him that I love him. I've just been feeling so far away from him. I love the way he says "baby" when he greets me, I love the way he mimics the facial expression I give him. I love how he's part of my routine and I'm part of his. Ever since we've started dating, before our monthaversarey, something had gone wrong and we've gotten into a fight. We've almost broke up like every month. I feel stupid, because I beg him not to leave me. I know it shows that I'm the weakest in the relationship.. but if I don't show that I'm willing to fight for "us" who will? So we've never even been on a break, because I know how much I'll miss him. I miss him all the time, I just say it too often which makes me seem needy. In my opinion, I'm just letting him know. He laughs at what I say, but I mean it all the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;So, there was this Hannah Montana Episode where she had feelings for two guys and she knew she needed to chose one. I saw this as a quote "if you're in love with two people, chose the second one, because if you really loved the first person you wouldn't have fallen for the second one" I get this quote, but I see it in different perspectives. Firstly, i get that if your feelings were true then loving someone else is  totally wrong. secondly, it takes time for something to happen. maybe you need to see how your life is without the person for them to actually miss them. So I was watching it during lunch w/ the boyfriend and he was just stating his opinion, he thought it was impossible for someone to like more then one person at the simultaneously. I contradicted what he just said and that i liked "so and so" at the same time. But then he added that the person they settle for is just the rebound. or something along those lines, I'm just paraphrasing right now. But I looked at him, with sad eyes. I don't think he saw but I felt crushed. I know that he feels that he's not good enough for me sometimes. I know I may seem not worthy of him to him. But I feel the exact  same way. I just don't know how to prove that I do. I just feel it, and there's no questions asked. I didn't just settle for him, I chose him. He chose me. So he feels insecure when I talk about people who I used to have something with. well me too. I don't want to feel like this, but when he told me the story about the first girl he's fell for, and he only broke up with her because she moved. I feel insecure because if she came back.. what would I be? would I still have his heart? am I the one he settles for? my heart aches for all these answers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Clearly, I have no ones to talk to about these kind of things. I just need to let it out. My online journal, which I'm pretty sure no one reads. Which is exactly why I do it here. But sometimes, I with somehow What I say can get to him. I don't know what to do right now. maybe I should sleep. I have school in about 9h. I really don't want to be sad anymore. Help me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6337258500076401629?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6337258500076401629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/03/breathe-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6337258500076401629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6337258500076401629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/03/breathe-again.html' title='Breathe Again.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-188597025829788939</id><published>2011-02-12T20:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T20:45:50.671-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Kiss.</title><content type='html'>perfect? shall I define it. Well.. it honestly speaks for itself. But I honestly don't care what perfect is to anyone else but me. Perfect, to me, is just imperfection. I wanna truly know if I have found the one. I know I have my off days. I spend my evenings waiting for his calls. why? because I'd rather have him find the time to talk to me instead of me forcing myself into it. the last thing I'd ever want is for him to leave me for being too clingy. being clingy is such a hard habit to get out of. I don't want to be dependent on him for everything. I'm tired of being jealous of people whom I shouldn't even care about. I don't talk about it because its just hurting me and making him think I'm psycho. I keep so many things in that when I cry, I really cry. I sob like there's no tomorrow. Every single cell in my body is sad. Its been bothering my lately, that I don't even know what to do anymore. I've cried to Him so many times, and i've cried to my boyfriend. I don't know where else to go. Things will get better, because they eventually do. I'm just impatiently waiting. Waiting for the right time to come, and letting everything to fall into place. I just wish it would cause less damage to my heart. I carry a heavy burden already, going forward in each day, dragging my heavy heart behind. I wanna talk to someone who won't get mad at me for crying. It hurts my boyfriend when I cry to him.. thats the last thing I want to do. I'm pretty sure it annoys him too, he get frustrated because I seem to not hear him. I do. It's just not processing. I know my problems seem petty and theres so much more to worry about. But I don't want to think about this anymore. I've been sleeping a lot this weekend. well its only saturday. I spent like 2/3 of my day sleeping. why? I'd honestly rather be in my dreams then worry about everything. I'm a better dreamer then I am a goal-achiever. I just need someone to help me. I know everything has been on the darker side lately, but It will get better. I promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-188597025829788939?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/188597025829788939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/02/perfect-kiss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/188597025829788939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/188597025829788939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/02/perfect-kiss.html' title='Perfect Kiss.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5452233111934701076</id><published>2011-02-03T23:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T00:11:19.170-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Everytime</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Hello dear blogspot. it has been a long long while. shall I update you? I shall. Well, I have a loving boyfriend now. His name is Arjel Rhay Hernandez and I think he may be the one, as cliche as it may sound. So, today I was told by my mom that I shouldnt suffocate my boyfriend. But I didn't know I was doing that. I asked him, he hesitated before his answer, which totally means I am. Idk, he's just someone who knows me inside out. I told myself never to become attached again, but I just keep falling. I'm doing everything wrong though, I make big deals about things. But then again, so does he. I don't want to. But I just think its better to say what I'm thinking then not saying it and keeping secrets from my boyfriend. Everything I do is wrong. I always cry, and burden him with my problems. He told me it was fine, but no its not. Its never okay, I need to learn to deal with my problems. I need a therapist or something. I don't wanna do this anymore. Its so hard trying to be someone that I truly cannot be. My parents expect so much from me, I don't think I can do it. there's so much going through my mind. I don't know why I'm like this. I hate being like this. I don't want to disappoint anymore. But thats all I do. no one ever tells me "good job" or "i'm proud of you" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I'm breaking down, more and more each day. I don't understand why this is so hard on me. I want someone just to be there while I cry and not judge me, not to tell me what to do. and they'll just stay with me with a comfortable silence, no time limits, nothing. just forever in nothingness. That's what I need. I don't know what else to say. I guess I just need someone who I know won't leave me alone. loneliness is killing me. I have no one to really talk to you, because people think they get me, but they don't. no one can see how much this is killing me inside day after day. Everyone that said that their here for me, always end up leaving. don't fucking tell me to be optimistic, cause look where that has lead me. I had been turned away from everyone. I'm fucking messed up. I'm scarred for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;tears hurt, unbearable pain in each of them. unspoken words because the feelings are indescribable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;It's hard to hold back tears when your fears come true. '8&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5452233111934701076?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5452233111934701076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/02/everytime.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5452233111934701076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5452233111934701076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2011/02/everytime.html' title='Everytime'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-764877969791866428</id><published>2010-09-01T23:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T23:38:54.731-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazier</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I had a dream last night. I don't know where it took place, or when it started. But what happened is one of my best friends began doing things that were wrong (take note that this was a dream and anything can happen) there was one part which made my heartbeat so fast that i didn't know what was real or not. He took his motorcycle and was planning to just drive away to get away from things. I know he's been planning just a small trip like that for a while, but idk something felt wrong. so I took my car (a nice one, but i don't have my license) and just drove it really fast. I was going litterally 200 kmp/h it was so scary. I felt the speed get to me as I was driving. My heart started to beat faster as I finally caught up with him and i got in front of him and drove slower.. cause I thought I finally got advantage it was a narrow road. We slowed down until I got to a complete stop. I got out of the car, he was totally fine. I fell in his arms crying telling him how much I worried about him and I just want to know where he's going and what he's doing and if he'll be back. I cried in his arms while holding his hand, never wanting to let go.&lt;/scene&gt; next scene; we were at some really nice house, just chillin w/ the usuals. But he was holding me, and asked me to be his girlfriend. I felt complete, something I haven't felt in a while. I was so happy I told *nick about it and he was really happy and said he was looking forward to that all summer. We all were just chillin watchin random things on tv. me and him went into a room, getting comfortable, telling him how long i've been waiting and I never knew this day would come. We just cuddled for the majority of the time, then *jay interrupted. But my "boyfriend" didn't care about him seeing, so we talked casually but im still in his arms. Jay finally left, and we just got into the moment and started to kiss. This dream felt so real, I felt the kiss and wanting this love to never end. I felt his hug and it all was familiar to me, thats when i thought I knew it was real. Then my alarm rang. Flustered, I checked the time this morning, 7:50. My alarm is 7:45, my dream kept me asleep for 5 extra minutes. I fell back asleep wanting to get back to my dream, or my wanted-reality. I woke up at 11 am from nothing but blank sleep. I stayed in bed until 2pm, wondering if that dream was what I really wanted. He's my bestfriend for a reason, I know I check him out from time to time, but I do that to everyone. Now I can't picture me with anyone else. I don't want it to happen. Maybe Andrew was right, he said we won't stay bestfriends for long. But I know I do wanna be there for him, because of the tough times he's been going through. I can't make you not do, or do anything. I just wish you'd realize that I've got your back through thick and thin. I'm always going to be on your side. Maybe this dream just tells me that I need you in my life as much as you need me. Sometimes I wish I knew what you were thinking about, so I can help you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;8' I watched from a distance as you made life your own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;**names were changed, except andrews. LOL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-764877969791866428?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/764877969791866428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2010/09/crazier.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/764877969791866428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/764877969791866428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2010/09/crazier.html' title='Crazier'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4415465335454919409</id><published>2010-08-12T15:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T15:32:42.918-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cool, Calm, Composed.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;hello blog, oh how i've missed you. I've been on tumblr, reblogging random things, sorry about that. I've come back because this was the home of my thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;so, ever since i stopped, so many things happened. I fell in love, then got my heart broken. i've found some new 'usuals' this summer, while my 'usuals' before feel like strangers now. gah, idk where to begin. oh yeah, I've got a job now. At silver city; where all hell breaks loose. LOL but i'm gonna keep blogging until i cannot blog anymore. I'm trying to keep calm, i broke down last week. twice. this is too much for me. I miss going to yfc events, i miss my pamilya, :( sorry for the sadness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4415465335454919409?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4415465335454919409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2010/08/cool-calm-composed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4415465335454919409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4415465335454919409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2010/08/cool-calm-composed.html' title='Cool, Calm, Composed.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3216668834468906451</id><published>2009-11-26T11:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T11:54:13.697-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HELLO WORLD</title><content type='html'>I am currently at school right now, and tumblr doens't work and I'm sad. hahaha. So this was my rebound. Long time no talk! shall I tell you about my day? no, cause it just started. I woke up at 10 and missed first period. I was so tiiiiiired. and now im sick, which is an EPIC fail. hahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im still really tired from yesterday, we had vocal jazz choral fest, in which DMCice got to perform in the closing concert with frc-Showtime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored now, alright LATEZZZ&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3216668834468906451?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3216668834468906451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/11/hello-wo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3216668834468906451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3216668834468906451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/11/hello-wo.html' title='HELLO WORLD'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4996363072494963244</id><published>2009-11-08T20:49:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T21:00:27.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'>If the moon fell down tonight.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;yeah, you make me sad. you keep me guessing, my heart breaking every single time I know that it may not be about me. I hate this. I  hate feeling like this. sometimes, I just wish everything would go the way I want it to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;WHY do you make my world make sense?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;WHY does your voice give me butterflies?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;WHY does your smile make my heart beat fast?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;WHY, why me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;can you just .. GET A GIRLFRIEND so I can get over you and get on with my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I think I already know the answer to that though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;): why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4996363072494963244?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4996363072494963244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/11/if-moon-fell-down-tonight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4996363072494963244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4996363072494963244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/11/if-moon-fell-down-tonight.html' title='If the moon fell down tonight.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6289980627442218770</id><published>2009-11-06T22:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T22:31:35.888-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever It Takes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;ello world, the pieces are coming together.. just really slowly. My working habits are getting better. I'm becoming less stressed. But it doesn't mean I'm not stressed. My world is getting very.. hectic. Precal, bio AND chem. holy, maybe I can't handle my dream occupation. PLUS in english i have to write a song. Writing songs are usually something someone does when they're inspired, or something. but my song is like .. mandatory. :/ I'll get through somehow, I know I will.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;if you don't already know, I attempt to be a very optimistic person. There is that occasional pessimistic side that show's its ugly face for a while. I really hope, that right now, I'm past that part in life.. well in this section. I hope next year will cut me some slack. please and thank you very much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Right now, I feel unfulfilled ): But I'm trying not to let it get to me. I can't let anything get to me, but at the same time I'm trying not to be so isolated. yeah I know I'm very contradictory. oh well, deal with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'll do whatever it takes to turn this around..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6289980627442218770?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6289980627442218770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/11/whatever-it-takes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6289980627442218770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6289980627442218770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/11/whatever-it-takes.html' title='Whatever It Takes.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-897612014275118416</id><published>2009-10-31T01:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T01:24:37.755-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fragile.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dear world,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I need your help. Please make me happy again. I just don't feel it anymore. I'm honestly at my all time low. I feel that my world is crashing down for no apparent reason. I want to smile for real again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;thank you,&lt;br /&gt;arjaaah&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dear God,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I pray to You for Your comfort in my time of need. I know that You will get me through this. I'd like to thank You for the wonderful friends You've blessed me with. I hope You help them through their times of needs as well as mine, because they deserve all the good things happening to them.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Amen,&lt;br /&gt;arjaaah.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-897612014275118416?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/897612014275118416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/fragile.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/897612014275118416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/897612014275118416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/fragile.html' title='Fragile.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5525664888256031117</id><published>2009-10-17T11:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T11:56:02.998-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Savior King.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;How come I feel so distant from you, oh Lord? I'm pretty active in YFC, I go to church almost every week, I pray everyday now. But all it all feels like I'm slipping away from You.. slowly and painfully. Is there something wrong with me? Sometimes I just don't feel You with me, It's like You're forgetting me ): Once school started, thats when it started to happen. oh Lord .. I know it's not school. Maybe I do know the answer to this.. I just need to search for you. I miss You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5525664888256031117?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5525664888256031117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/savior-king.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5525664888256031117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5525664888256031117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/savior-king.html' title='Savior King.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6058511729372490078</id><published>2009-10-16T23:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T23:31:41.688-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Paranoid.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 19px; "&gt;Well today, started off really bad. I missed a precal test, I didn’t go to english, my test was an ASIAN fail, chem i did absolutely NOTHING, choir, again I DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! total fail.&lt;p style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;the good stuff happened AFTER school. &lt;br /&gt;I hung out w/ jew and the kambals for a while. we walked outside and we saw a car crash! everyone was watching. we were so close to the action, and then casey comes and ask about it. then des came, and we went to kambal’s house. we watched some KeoNecra, that guy thats skinny with a high voice, some midget singing burning up, some finest vids, AND the preview for Paranormal Activity. I didn’t think I was gonna watch it, BUT I DID. I watched it w/ Gyan, Casey, Desiree and Shine. It was a pretty siick movie! totally worth watching! oh man, I screamed so loud. Casey and Des were SO LOUD! hahahah! Gyan was being weird in the middle of the movie, during a scary part. LOL then after the movie we talked w/ the workers and I may apply at silver. but yeah, i was w/ kuya lorenz, angela, ate laams, albert, and others. Gyan was going to give me, des and case a ride. gyan almost worked. SO GAY “This rush is calling my name!” loser. hahah. then we walked to tims, on the way we saw iris, aico, aico’s dog (lucky) and jayvee. All in jayvee’s car. Awuh, lucky was shivering, hes so cute! (: then yeah we went to tims to wait for Gyan’s parents. And we were trying to figure out what the monster/demon thing looked like. “so .. bird feet, circle mouth, claws and hes tall” LOL. then Gyan’s parents got here, and we just talked. Tito apol told us a story about how Gyan couldnt speak tagalog when he was younger. LOL then they got to my house and then I thanked his parents and went home to tell my sister about the movie. LOL&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;that was the highlight of my day (: I had so much fun! a bad day gone good. thank you Lord.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: none; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;now .. i need to pray because I’m still scared. HAHA&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6058511729372490078?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6058511729372490078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/paranoid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6058511729372490078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6058511729372490078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/paranoid.html' title='Paranoid.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-9038970787239077232</id><published>2009-10-13T19:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T19:04:34.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Much Love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;I LOVE THE ROCKET SUMMER! that song's been in my head a lot lately. (:&lt;p&gt;so I want to get to the point, because I have a ton of homework to do. Today, I hung out with dimple, because chamber choir was cancelled. So I went to polo with her and then she got Koya and I got Famous Wok. While at famous wok I got my food and then I looked at the till because .. thats what I do, yenno, to check how long i have to wait before I pay. THEN I saw I Gyan! and we both saw each other at the same time AND we gave each other the same "what the fudge" look. IT WAS HILARIOUS! I couldn't get over it the whole time. I thought it was funny. But yeah, thats all I wanted to say. so peace laaaterz (:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-9038970787239077232?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/9038970787239077232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-much-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9038970787239077232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/9038970787239077232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-much-love.html' title='So Much Love.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4978932083673725707</id><published>2009-10-11T22:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T22:31:33.211-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Less Lonely Girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); line-height: 10px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;HAHA Justin Bieber isn’t that bad, people just hate on him because hes young and they’re jealous of him being famous for singing, because hes not all that good. I bet he can’t tell between a diminished and a dominant chord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;you really want to know? i like you as much as my mum likes to sew. i like you as much as i like to climb trees and ride bikes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i like you as much as i like polaroids&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; and bags from op-shops. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i like you as much as i like feeling pretty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;. i like you as much as i like picnics. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i like you as much as i like sunrise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;. i like you as much as i like books. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i like you as much as i like music&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;. i like you as much as i like the silence. why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;because i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; love the way you dress&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;, and i love that you like to climb trees and ride bikes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ecause you make me feel pretty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;, even in second-hand clothing. because you took me on a picnic to cheer me up. because you make me want to write. because&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; i think your music is beautiful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;. i like you because you can sit with me in silence. and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i like you because you will listen when i feel like talking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;you know when people say little things and they just fit into that tiny place in your heart? your words fit nice and comfy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;— me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4978932083673725707?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4978932083673725707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-less-lonely-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4978932083673725707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4978932083673725707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-less-lonely-girl.html' title='One Less Lonely Girl.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6024956949853694697</id><published>2009-10-10T20:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T20:31:53.418-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking in a Winter Wonderland.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 8px; margin-right: 12px; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; background-image: url(http://www.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.4; font-weight: normal; background-position: 50% 0%; "&gt;&lt;p&gt;.. IN FALL?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;what a fail. HAHA The world just skipped fall in Winnipeg. Hence the nickname "winterpeg" yesterday was pretty funny. I was walking home second period and I was looking at the sky. White things were falling from the sky and I thought it was those dandelion fluff things. BUT I caught one and it melted and I'm like "OH MY GOSH ITS SNOW!" and as the day went on, I laughed at my reaction, and was glad no one was around to hear what I said. haha! So the last thing I did at school was go to the pep rally at school. Then I hung out with the dancers because they had to perform at halftime for the football game. AND THEY PERFORMED IN THE SNOW! it was so funny, cause what other dance groups can say "we performed on the first snow fall" like thats SO COOL! haha. After that I went home to sleep then I went to the cfc office for reg. It was snowing hardcore at the time and I had a hot chocolate. So when we finished reg for that day, and when we were almost done, everyone was outside cleaning their cars. Kuya Earl used a walis, yenno those stick ones, to clean his car when it was so much easier to just ask to borrow someones. LOL! So when they were done they all went back inside, for like five minutes. THEN they went back outside and it was covered again. So it was sucha fail. LOL then today when I came back home from my pastoral, the kids across the street were trying to make a snowman w/ the snow that fell yesterday. they made one, but theres GREEN leaves on it, the ones that have fallen w/ the snow. Seeing snow and leaves fall in sync with each other is a pretty rare sight, I'm glad I can saythat I saw it, AND STILL see it happening. haha.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;thats all I have to say right now. (: so I'll blog later, perhaps. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;OH YEAH, I changed my tumblr layout. ITS SO COOL! its my first COOL blog layout thanks Gyan :P&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6024956949853694697?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6024956949853694697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/walking-in-winter-wonderland.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6024956949853694697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6024956949853694697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/walking-in-winter-wonderland.html' title='Walking in a Winter Wonderland.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-8540275531918159260</id><published>2009-10-10T14:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T14:11:19.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beside You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;i&gt;When your tears are spent on your last pretense and your tired eyes refuse to close and sleep in your defense&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wanna know something funny? My eyes are totally swollen, but I couldn't be happier. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-8540275531918159260?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/8540275531918159260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/beside-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8540275531918159260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/8540275531918159260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/beside-you.html' title='Beside You'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-741789062515305164</id><published>2009-10-09T22:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T23:14:36.244-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterfly.</title><content type='html'>OH MAN! Hannah, you got that song in my head! haha it's okay, we're vocal jazz nerds (: WHOOT WHOOT for Rajaton! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, lately I've had my ups and downs. Life is so hard, like seriously. Sometimes my emotions are so hard to deal with and I just can't make myself feel better. I feel that I'm overwhelmed with things and I'm trying to hard to keep everything mutual. But it's not working. Right now, I feel that my sleep is the most important thing I have to do because I know I won't get a lot of it. I know that sounds weird, but thats how I think. Like, I really don't have anyone to talk about this about. Everyday I put on the biggest smile I can. It's not that I'm hiding the pain, its just that when I'm with the pamilya, the sadness temporarily heals. After we all go our own ways, my world comes crashing down. I totally know that I'm overly dramatic at times, but I can't help it, IM A GIRL! I can't help how I feel. I have a duty to the people that are important to me, I want them to know that I'd never want anything to trouble them and I'd do everything in my power to keep it like that. But whatevs, I know I'm never alone. He is always with me. "If he brings you to it, He'll bring you through it" My favorite saying EVER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Honestly, I'm troubled and I need help. Can you be my superman?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.U.S.H&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-741789062515305164?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/741789062515305164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/butterfly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/741789062515305164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/741789062515305164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/butterfly.html' title='Butterfly.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5388253030551633754</id><published>2009-10-08T22:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T22:53:58.072-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Only You</title><content type='html'>HAHA 2pm in the hizz house! :P&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;well today was really fun. I really did nothing .. LOL. I didn't feel stressed at all. I actually liked what i was wearing, i was very warm and being warm makes me happy (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but yeah, long story short. I laughed a lot today and I really needed it because of the night before. Thanks Kuya Jeff for being there for me, when there was no one else to talk to &lt;3&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ANYWAYS, i just wanna tell you a couple things about today. Today in chemistry .. Gyan was being weird and wrote "BOO!" on the chalk board after he fixed his question. And for those who watch russell peters .. the way he says "boo" is EXACTLY how My chem teacher said it. OH MAN, i laughed so hard! hahaha!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In bio today, there was a sub, who didnt care what we did in class. So me, tina, cat, and kim played on kim's laptop. And they watched me take care of my ranch. it was so fun! OH MAN! and theres vids on facebook of me and cat mostly! HAHA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;kyeah, im tired. I'll sleep now. Goodnight world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5388253030551633754?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5388253030551633754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/only-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5388253030551633754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5388253030551633754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/only-you.html' title='Only You'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6826825789035700983</id><published>2009-10-07T18:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T18:16:04.644-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Somebody Out There</title><content type='html'>Hello World, today was great .. until .. now.&lt;div&gt;you make me sad because of your sadness. Please don't be sad, I want you know that I'll do what I can to make your sadness go away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6826825789035700983?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6826825789035700983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/somebody-out-there.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6826825789035700983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6826825789035700983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/somebody-out-there.html' title='Somebody Out There'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-1327416826393422764</id><published>2009-10-06T20:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T20:58:09.055-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Party In The USA.</title><content type='html'>freaking kambals, you got that song in my head. LOL&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;k, anyways. I did A LOT today! I actually went to class first period, and it was so.. boring. I knew like .. everything that we were being taught, but at least I'll have a better mark then what i would have had last year. (: whoot whoot! but yeah .. BO-RING! Third period was pretty cool, me and rina had a picnic w/ chocoalte, granola bars, oranges, cornpops and those other things she brings that i dont know what it is. LOL yeah we did many things, and we read stories blahblahblah..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;NOW TO THE GOOD PART,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me, Gyan and Rina bussed to polo, we took the 71, then 11. a couple of .. annoying people were there. we saw des walking home and we waved at her. people smelled yucky and we had to stand near the bus door in the middle .. if that made any sense. haha. so we got to polo and rina was all like .. demanding. she made us go everywhere. the first thing we did was visit kuya Jeff at geox, we attempted no to know him and be a bad customer. but .. it didnt work, i couldnt keep a straight face. So we left. we went to AE first to look for a jacket. Then we went downstairs and went to Fairweather, gyan left cause it was an all girl store. me and rina took a good 10 mins and then we went to look for gyan and he looked .. SO SAD, cause he was looking down on to his ipod alone on a bench, and it made me so .. sad just so see him like that. LOL then we went to the Bay thinking that we would go see mike cause rina wanted too. we ended up not going to see mike, cause rina was being weird. LOL so we left, and then we went to the food court and we ate bento sushi! yeaaah maan! (: mike was with us and kuya jeff. we all just .. talked about anything. Kuya jeff had to go to work .. and we took his phone .. but gave it back like 3 mins later. LOL after that .. rina went to get bus fair in mike's car and mike was like "do you guys know how to drive stick?" and me and gyan are like "no, why?" and mikes all like "cause i would let you guys borrow it if you did" LOL that made me wish i could drive.WHO WANTS TO TEACH ME HOW TO DRIVE?! (: haha jk. yeah, mike went back to work and we went to silver to visit ate lams.. and possibly watch a movie. So we said hi to ate lams, and then we ended up not watching a movie. We went back to polo because the bus left rina. LOL and then we got second cup and sat down. We were sitting down and yvanne, camy, sam, ate praisia and jeff came to our table and we just talked .. and then we went to the bus stop. while we were there .. and an annoying person was there.. LOL but me, rina and gyan got spots in the back corner. After that, kirsten and rose came on the bus and they sat with us (: then we stopped at kambal's house and i like .. automatically lied down on their couch w/ a kumot. LOL we waited a while so rina could fix her hair and tina told us stories about this girl. I dont wanna go into details. haha. so we walked to school, and watched elite w/ kuya lorenz and gyan. Kuya jeff's design was too .. cocky. HAHA everyone heard me when i said that. I told gyan that there was a a volleyball game and we checked it out and it was just the JV girls so we went into the guitar room and checked out CD's from the music library .. and i couldnt find first take ): so sad. haha. then gyan had to leave. So i didnt want to disturb elite anymore, i went to the gym to watch the JV girls play w/ marjo, renee and faith. When they played i watched w/ casey and des. But I had to go to chamber choir so i went and when I got there .. it was kind of an awkward entrance, and i was like "thats awkward" hahaha! then yeah ... we sang .. blahblahblah .. now im here. WOW this took long. I'm watching icarly right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;alright, today was fun. REALLY fun (: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Party in the .. PAMILYA LOCKER! &lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-1327416826393422764?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/1327416826393422764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/party-in-usa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1327416826393422764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/1327416826393422764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/party-in-usa.html' title='Party In The USA.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2186027230157907479</id><published>2009-10-05T19:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T20:13:26.648-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marry U</title><content type='html'>HAHAHA super junior up in this hizzz house! (:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;maaan, today was a good day, and that korean song just lit up my day. oh man, I just love how it did that. I don't know what happened, it just played and nothing but i smile was on my face. OH MAN, im becoming into a korean addict like my sister and gyan ... next thing you know i know like EVERYTHING about it .. oh man .. no .. hahaha jk. i just think that I like korean music. I remember those days. good times, good times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;SO lets get on with what i did today.. so I woke up late, and then i went to school, but it was already 9:30, and my teacher is a douche and doesnt like it when people are late, and he doesnt even like me. So i didn't bother to go, but apparently it was easy. So i picked the best day to skip (so to say) HAHA. second period I finished my reading in the library. I was so tired, i thought i could pass out. My book is too .. murderous. haha most classes were okay. In my 4th period bio class we talking about H1N1 and we all thought we were going off topic but it was all graavy. (: I asked my teacher what I had to take to become an Immunologist, or a Neurologist. She went on about what i had do in university. then I would have to get my Masters, then my PhD then my M.D .. THATS GONNA TAKE 11 YEARS! OH MAN im gonna freaking be 30 before i can officially be at doctor. oh well, I hope that I'll marry someone understanding of my hopes and dreams and wont be mad at me for not being home. LOL as if im already thinking of this. okay, anyways, then in Chem, my teacher thinks im mean for calling him mean. he told gyan that he has to talk with him because of how i am and gyan's all like "Shes always like that, shes sucha whiner" WELL EXCUSE ME WHINER. hahaha! AND choir was just blaah. i liked it, OH MAN and vocal jazz was so good! it made me so happy. I think im gonna like "It's Alright With Me" its gonna be like my El Paisanito of this year. I'm always gonna compare songs to my first year of Ice. Well cause .. the first one is something you'll always remember right? (: but yeah, "It's alright with me" is going along pretty smoothly. I cant sing my first note of "Gota" cause it doesnt come out. HAHA it was like .. AIR. LOL and yeah.. love it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just finished the new episode of House, and it was pretty epic. MAN House is my favorite show, I wanna pursue a future in something like that. Dr.Cameron is an Immunologist and shes cool. I wanna be like her .. minus the drug addictions. LOL&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;oh man, this day was so good. Loooooooooooooooove it. tomorrow is half day, i wonder what im gonna do. k whatevs. (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2186027230157907479?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2186027230157907479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/marry-u.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2186027230157907479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2186027230157907479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/marry-u.html' title='Marry U'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-6619173590875505946</id><published>2009-10-05T00:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T00:20:02.044-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Remember.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hello world, I should be asleep right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have a lot on my mind. like A LOT! I don't really know how to start. There's so many things I want to say right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I miss you. I F*CKING miss you. I spent the majority of my time thinking of you this whole weekend. whether it was a good thought or a sad thought. I'm a very jealous kind of person, but I always try not to show it. I know that you're .. you. But still, I just wish you knew how I felt. I wanna be there for you when you need me. I wanna be the first to congratulate you when you succeed in anything. I wanna praise you for the things you should be praised for. I want to be the women of God for you. "behind every man is a stronger woman" something I learned in level up. It's the woman's job to be supportive of the man, to care and tend to his needs. I feel I can be that women for you. I care a lot about you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I love that little smirk you have when you accidentally make a mistake. It makes my heart smile. When you smile, my heart melts. But .. the bittersweet part is that you affect my heart all the time. When you're away .. my heart hurts. I know I can contact you whenever .. but its not the same when you're not physically here. I'm not gonna hide it anymore. I love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You used to tell me that He doesn't want us to be in those kinds of relationships. So I didn't know how or what to think. Maybe I'm sinning just thinking about you now. I don't know, but that means, my sin is loving you. He gives so much love to me and everyone else. aw man, I don't even know where I'm going with this. I'm glad everyone moved to tumblr. I can't vent about anything right now, and no one really cares but me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Right now, I'm listening to Gabe Bondoc's cover of "I Remember" by Keyshia Cole. Gabe's voice always heals the wounds I have when I'm in a bad state. In this song, even Gabe cries near the end. It's weird .. hearing someone cry, who makes you happy. That just makes your whole perspective of them different. But they're only human right? right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I remember when my heart broke, I remember when I gave up loving you ..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;the only thing that breaks my heart, is the thought of you not accepting my heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-6619173590875505946?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/6619173590875505946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-remember.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6619173590875505946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/6619173590875505946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-remember.html' title='I Remember.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-3900661219475098667</id><published>2009-10-03T18:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T19:14:15.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Drops of Jupiter.</title><content type='html'>HI! I LIKE THIS SONG.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;kso, i JUST found my phone a while ago. 30 unread msgs, FAIL. today, isn't all that good of a day compared to last year. i actually remember the whole day. so weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ANYWAYS, I've spent the last 4 hours searching for Piano sheet music, I want to audition a song with lots of meaning. I don't want it to be like last years audition, it sucked monkey balls. hence the minor role. hahaha but lately, i haven't felt .. inspired. i haven't found the right song either. I want the song to emphasize my voice and my instrumental talent. but I still haven't found a song, and im kinda depressed. I know it makes me feel emo when i say that, but thats the only way to describe it. so gay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;im gonna keep searching until i find it. I'll look at Gabe Bondoc's covers (he mad a cover of drops of jupiter and i freaking love it, thats why its the title) but it makes me feel so untalented cause hes so majorly talented. but its okay, i still love him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;whatevs, talking to my best. so i'll do whatever later. haha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-3900661219475098667?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/3900661219475098667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/drops-of-jupiter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3900661219475098667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/3900661219475098667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/drops-of-jupiter.html' title='Drops of Jupiter.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-199763582707392804</id><published>2009-10-02T22:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T22:20:57.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hit That Jive Jack!</title><content type='html'>WELL today went very well. I went like EVERYWHERE today. hahaha! i went down town to look at the oriental gifts. bought things, and then some. I went to U of W to get hang out w/ dimple and then we bussed to my house and then we ate, then went to portage again, and we caught up w/ thames and we then ate for like .. 2 hours. LOL we talked about many things. then we went to my moms work and she told me that she collected 285 dollars in donation for the philippine relief IN ONE DAY! so AWESOME! (: and then we were driven to polo by my mom and apparently denzel is just like tyle. LOL when we got dropped off we got pretzels and hot chocolate! whooooot! (: and we caught up with kuya jeff AFTER we went to the apple store. I changed my facebook DP! yeeeahhhh maaan! the apple store is soooo siiiiiick! haha. then after that we went to Guess and kuya jeff bought a shirt. then Ate Praisia came to hang w/ us! (: then we went like EVERYWHERE looking for shoes for Ate Praisia and Kuya Jeff. haha Kuya Jeff likes shiny things. I learned alot of things from Thamie. About vegetables .. and oil. HAHA! but i learned something atleast! LOL then dimple and thames have to leave. so it was me and ate praisia and kuya jeff. we looked at the rest of the stores we didnt go to LOL then they went to work.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;@THEOFFICE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when i got there hannah, karlo, ate evony, kuya andrew, kuya james, and ate ariel was there. more people came in like krisitan, ryan &amp;amp;his parents, marty&amp;amp;angie, kuya sevi, ate jenelle, ate belle, and kenny&amp;amp;kuya earl. OH MAN, kuya earl brought SO MUCH ICE CREAM to the office and hes like "eat it before it melts" and there was like literally 20 boxes of ice cream. like those little popsicle kinds. hahah. i just went crazy and kept eating :P LOL so we did worship, AND IT FELT GREAT cause i haven't done one in a while, and then we went on to the reg. team things. most people i called was like .. nothing. haha. FAIL. then yeah .. i had to leave. ):&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;k GREAT DAY minus one thing. thats all okay. peace laterzzz (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-199763582707392804?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/199763582707392804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/hit-that-jive-jack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/199763582707392804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/199763582707392804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/hit-that-jive-jack.html' title='Hit That Jive Jack!'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-4233411397228806387</id><published>2009-10-01T21:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T21:18:21.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If You Want Me To.</title><content type='html'>Ate Jenelle, you sing the best songs.&lt;div&gt;this song was a level up song. yeah, i think i blogged about it, so just look for it i guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;welcome me back to blogger (: freaking tumblrs so freaking confusing. and I guess i can talk about how i really feel here, no one really reads this anyways. so im good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;first of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY KUYA LORENZ! (: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;since thats out of the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;today was overall a good day. My and kuya Jun hung out today. more One on One kinda things, we really got into deep conversation. I really like talking to him, cause he can relate to me so well. I'm glad he's my Program head. He makes me happy (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so today I really didn't do anything. I had precal first period, thats a blah class, i learned it already. then in english, was blah again. bio was alright .. i guess. because i got to eat food. hahaha. then chem was pretty good. we really didnt do anything, we just got a quiz, and yvanne pointed out that me and gyan matched. its really weird me and gyan like .. ALWAYS match. its like we own the same wardrobe or something. hahaha.. aanyways, i think i did pretty good on that quiz, minus one question. haha. so at choir was .. weird. mrs.wahl said she had a friend thats "cute and small, like ardia" and all i heard was "small like ardia" HAHAHA and i was like "EXCUSE ME" and she was like "stand up ardia, i cant see you" and i was already standing up. maan, i need to learn to tone it down. i know its okay at times, but i do this like ALL the time. so, yeah. someone just warn me please and thanks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;vocal jazz totally hurt my throat more and more each time. im getting more scared every day. because i'm really scared to get my tonsils taken out.. what if i can't sing EVER AGAIN?! like .. im not that good at guitar, piano or clarinet. I just can do it better then others. but .. im nothing without my singing voice. yeah so, i sing tenor, and its difficult for me to blend my voice, but i always come through. It does take time, more for me though. but .. I'm dedicated to being a vocalist. it may not be something i take in the future, but its something i enjoy, and I don't want it to end unless it really HAS to. please .. i dont want to lose my singing voice before my surgery. I NEED IT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;now on to something else. I dont know why im so pissy right now, but i just am. IM FREAKING SICK OF YOUR VOICE. i love you and everything .. but its really annoying. you're not always the best. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S im the YL, so i can do what ever the fuck i want.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-4233411397228806387?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/4233411397228806387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-you-want-me-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4233411397228806387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/4233411397228806387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-you-want-me-to.html' title='If You Want Me To.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2780594411672304972</id><published>2009-09-27T20:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T20:19:10.217-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled.</title><content type='html'>I wish I could make you feel better. seeing you sad makes me sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2780594411672304972?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2780594411672304972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/09/untitled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2780594411672304972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2780594411672304972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/09/untitled.html' title='Untitled.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-2338934614529815998</id><published>2009-09-17T18:50:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T18:51:15.869-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here We Go Again.</title><content type='html'>know why 'you think' that I think so highly of myself....&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cause i know that no one else will think of me like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-2338934614529815998?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/2338934614529815998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/09/here-we-go-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2338934614529815998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/2338934614529815998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/09/here-we-go-again.html' title='Here We Go Again.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603404147254157744.post-5922479732793306923</id><published>2009-09-08T21:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T21:30:58.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Long Sweet Summer.</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;hey, thanks for this summer ..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;summer `09 you've been good to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3603404147254157744-5922479732793306923?l=arjaaah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/feeds/5922479732793306923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-long-sweet-summer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5922479732793306923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3603404147254157744/posts/default/5922479732793306923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arjaaah.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-long-sweet-summer.html' title='So Long Sweet Summer.'/><author><name>ardiasarao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04806131101401823835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nvr_ChNyAvg/TtJczuVvB4I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ccKVqQ3NJ2w/s220/_DSC7361.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
