<?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:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' 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-2939341983966350420</id><updated>2026-03-23T07:11:56.278+08:00</updated><title type='text'>dead under the stars</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-5331041169160134597</id><published>2011-02-25T01:24:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T02:19:24.291+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Digging up the grave: Reminiscence part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Hello...I&#39;m Amri GloomySunday. Well this post is not one of my short stories. Its just me babbling about my work and art. I&#39;m really not a good artist or writer. But I&#39;ll try to be one. In this post I&#39;ll like to talk about my earlier work. How it came up...and my personal opinion about it. And also because my work usually revolve around people dying. So I put a body count on every post I&#39;ve written. Well here goes; hope you&#39;re entertained.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 1&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2010/12/500-words-story.html&quot;&gt;A 500 Words Story&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wQyjaVquJEx8ixdUnTKEYK0n1klrbA4u8u7jVLpXlKBWIz4gYRlR5VnM5BPfBv4s1OhQWGTMa9h3wNeV-sU0g3nJ9Hl1fpKBggimpzcFY6euBBkRlR4feBpwelh8pHBCvkSbYrAVFUrM/s1600/a+500+words+story.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wQyjaVquJEx8ixdUnTKEYK0n1klrbA4u8u7jVLpXlKBWIz4gYRlR5VnM5BPfBv4s1OhQWGTMa9h3wNeV-sU0g3nJ9Hl1fpKBggimpzcFY6euBBkRlR4feBpwelh8pHBCvkSbYrAVFUrM/s320/a+500+words+story.jpg&quot; width=&quot;259&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is my first post. Well not much to talk about it. It suck. Its my first attempt to write again. It was a story with 500 words. The story suck. But I really like the drawing. Creepy hand. Maybe in the near future I&#39;ll try to revised it again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body count: 0....just maybe you&#39;ll die of boredom reading it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 2&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/flesh-are-fake-bones-are-real.html&quot;&gt;Flesh are fake, bones are real&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAE3KaVMQkAnG6YtVSq8e1HEucHh5g3y3KdDSiAjWbHHdFnd0B8YqfWszNPxBSbZkEhCn4Rya5-mTUeyIFdCo__RrOvCc1oJQPsdy8denZhIfDagIACSle9BZTk2h2aJKavEAKGmCeeAt/s1600/skull+small.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAE3KaVMQkAnG6YtVSq8e1HEucHh5g3y3KdDSiAjWbHHdFnd0B8YqfWszNPxBSbZkEhCn4Rya5-mTUeyIFdCo__RrOvCc1oJQPsdy8denZhIfDagIACSle9BZTk2h2aJKavEAKGmCeeAt/s320/skull+small.jpg&quot; width=&quot;220&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This also was an experiment. To find out&amp;nbsp;whether I can still write dark story. Its about our nature as a human. To lie to one another. We can still make a smile while we are lying to our love one. White lies, black lies...which one do you prefer. But in the end, its all was just all lie. You smile...but only you know how fake it is. The skull kind of cool right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body count: 0...maybe I&#39;m just lying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 3&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/love-is-killer.html&quot;&gt;Love is a killer&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi59rDMwWrxF2M5VrEqwRe6aOD9n7PE4oXPqbdM8NMNFL1ZM6Psx88xN5v1jFiph4-suCyVis2y7XFhXGEwTkyPXj1XWupDsLe1cqrH40FGPGrHswShZcbj_Cu28Skx4i0OCC8wh1h3O_uO/s1600/love+is+a+killer.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi59rDMwWrxF2M5VrEqwRe6aOD9n7PE4oXPqbdM8NMNFL1ZM6Psx88xN5v1jFiph4-suCyVis2y7XFhXGEwTkyPXj1XWupDsLe1cqrH40FGPGrHswShZcbj_Cu28Skx4i0OCC8wh1h3O_uO/s320/love+is+a+killer.jpg&quot; width=&quot;228&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My blog editor commented on me. She said that maybe I should post a sweet love story. But at that time I&#39;m not feeling sweet or in love. So I create a love story about a killer and a girl. At first the guy wasn&#39;t supposed to be a killer. They are in love but just weren&#39;t meant to be together. Then I started to draw. Its really been a while since I draw a girl. It was so hard and messy. I draw them hugging each other. But it seems like there is something off. It really don&#39;t have any emotion. So I put a little blood and a gun and also revised the story. This was also a post that received a lot of views.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body Count: 2...now we&#39;re getting somewhere&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 3&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/fear.html&quot;&gt;The Fear&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPCNnJLx2ozT58Jl9_pvfSp4Wqo3f4C3HFtMeSfsmvRsuLTQy72tj1aJBgtIznC8uqW2pENHj-eU69yJx4Qwd3S8nlT4SFyBtIyY_FXwp3liiRU1qRsD8A-ybvLWHWRuFgCZ26wOKPQ7-/s1600/the+fear.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPCNnJLx2ozT58Jl9_pvfSp4Wqo3f4C3HFtMeSfsmvRsuLTQy72tj1aJBgtIznC8uqW2pENHj-eU69yJx4Qwd3S8nlT4SFyBtIyY_FXwp3liiRU1qRsD8A-ybvLWHWRuFgCZ26wOKPQ7-/s320/the+fear.jpg&quot; width=&quot;284&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;If you been reading my post from the since earlier. You&#39;ll know that this is my Form 5 essay. I wrote it for my English test and my teacher said that I have my own style. Maybe she thinks I&#39;m just weird. Well everyone was writing about their life experience, a story about hope and wonder and even a story from they have just read. But me, I wrote a story about pain, death and fear. Maybe I&#39;m just a sick kid. About the picture well, It was about fear. What more terrifying that a dark little guy suddenly came out of your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body count: 1...after all he was just an old lonely man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 4&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/dead-under-stars.html&quot;&gt;Dead under the stars&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjYUFWPEHnTUaTWAb1i_AF3o54zHi4M8SfyyS9gtmHNxBf9UhGJB6dqjjJqfcFmzxhvyL-NXTHskU9mqk7wS6yjveebL7GMa121vAgjcEjA8aic5k71-VPWFQZv62U5ZSOLa3eKk3hE9d/s1600/IMG_0002-1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;294&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjYUFWPEHnTUaTWAb1i_AF3o54zHi4M8SfyyS9gtmHNxBf9UhGJB6dqjjJqfcFmzxhvyL-NXTHskU9mqk7wS6yjveebL7GMa121vAgjcEjA8aic5k71-VPWFQZv62U5ZSOLa3eKk3hE9d/s320/IMG_0002-1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This was just an attempt to change the nursery rhyme into something horrifying. Maybe it can be a theme song for this blog. The picture was supposed to be the blog header. But when it was put there it all look squash up. So I redrew the header.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body count: just a child dreams being murdered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 5&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/154-days-5-hours-4-minutes-49-seconds.html&quot;&gt;154 days 5 hours 4 minutes 49 seconds&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Pr38gTmTszWcdCPxV_HW7WoSRki1iQ3zsGZYPqZd0aaOor9fhsM9PiFMmvEM8jRt-J2lePXOUJkVSaKEHa-Oda25nxb_0maOvzSfAOhIYNqK_zBHuxhCvPbaPAhHKbD8r8kezfrUzVmt/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Pr38gTmTszWcdCPxV_HW7WoSRki1iQ3zsGZYPqZd0aaOor9fhsM9PiFMmvEM8jRt-J2lePXOUJkVSaKEHa-Oda25nxb_0maOvzSfAOhIYNqK_zBHuxhCvPbaPAhHKbD8r8kezfrUzVmt/s320/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;236&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Well this story had a lot of views. And it still is. But I don&#39;t think it was the best that I ever did tough. Maybe those reading it think they can relate to it. Or they are just to bored. This is a heartbreak story. This story was about me, about you and about everyone who had their heart broken. Eventhough time has passed on, deep in your heart you are still thinking about them. Maybe one day you&#39;ll meet them again. And maybe one day their heart will be yours again, in the refrigerator. Who know that maybe there&#39;s one in mine? &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;I want forever, you just want today&lt;/span&gt;&quot;, is something I quote from a song entitled &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.mp3lyrics.org/b/babybird/goodnight/&quot;&gt;Goodnight&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.babybirdmusic.me/&quot;&gt;Babybird&lt;/a&gt;. The picture was inspired by a tv series entitled Dexter adapted from a novel by the name of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.reviewsofbooks.com/darkly_dreaming_dexter/review/&quot;&gt;Darkly Dreaming Dexter&lt;/a&gt;. I never bought the novel tough.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body Count: 1...and a heart in the refrigerator as a&amp;nbsp;souvenir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 6&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/on-edge-of-world.html&quot;&gt;Jimmy don&#39;t fly (On the edge of the world)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM70VcdsqwCSJog_lLb8m-JN34S9k3ewPW4t4uXRey1Nw3DDxZ1WaEm_epFUBC8JDpdBgXD4TN3GtI8TyRC-Z8xNDjkuJDOyX5aXrpUrBBkdievyjvCqdsUqw617XXjgi9PlqEwlbaChqa/s1600/IMG_0002.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM70VcdsqwCSJog_lLb8m-JN34S9k3ewPW4t4uXRey1Nw3DDxZ1WaEm_epFUBC8JDpdBgXD4TN3GtI8TyRC-Z8xNDjkuJDOyX5aXrpUrBBkdievyjvCqdsUqw617XXjgi9PlqEwlbaChqa/s320/IMG_0002.jpg&quot; width=&quot;228&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I like this story, but it never had much people viewing it. When I wrote this, I was thinking what will it be like to write about people flying to the sky. But my work were much related about dark real life fiction, not science fiction. So I wrote about a guy falling from a 15 floor building. It still like flying right. This story was about love and friendship. How much we hurt the one we love. And we never knew by doing that you just hurting yourself also. The story was also inspired by the song &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.metrolyrics.com/this-is-your-life-lyrics-the-killers.html&quot;&gt;This is Your Life&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.thekillersmusic.com/html5&quot;&gt;The Killers&lt;/a&gt;. In one of it verse it say that: &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;The sky was full of dream, But we don&#39;t know how to fly, I don&#39;t know the answer, but I think I could answer&lt;/span&gt;&quot; I shamelessly quote it in the story. I had a fight with a friend of mine about the relationship of the three character. She says that man was always the same. Always relying on women to give support. If they weren&#39;t there, the man would jump off a building or something. I guess what she is true say in some way. The picture was bad I guess. Its an attempt to play with perspective. But ended feeling empty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body Count: 2...She died of an accident, he jumped off a building, and the other one just live like a&amp;nbsp;cockroach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/call-1-800-murder.html&quot;&gt;Call 1-800-MURDER&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5Na4VKhR3igLZQgWI0gqoy_EF4653fP5N9L-ajBjoiNJY2N_SzWCpEXA30AlwBALXDwAZ_cJOBCz6pVYkWT1McFqUxI33a4VIG_kE1ZzQacJdF0tP3IZRILI-RU5oBb_Nxaj_Eyj1Ii4/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5Na4VKhR3igLZQgWI0gqoy_EF4653fP5N9L-ajBjoiNJY2N_SzWCpEXA30AlwBALXDwAZ_cJOBCz6pVYkWT1McFqUxI33a4VIG_kE1ZzQacJdF0tP3IZRILI-RU5oBb_Nxaj_Eyj1Ii4/s320/IMG_0001.jpg&quot; width=&quot;230&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Most of my post till about now is about love, or dying about love. So I decided to make a dark fiction story not about love. Well this is not really an original story, I remembered reading it somewhere. But I don&#39;t recalled the story title or the person that wrote it. It does not mean I copied it 100 percent. I just take the idea and rewrote it and adding my own ideas. I want to portray how the character become so twisted and hated everyone. But it just got to long. About the picture, I really think portray the character.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body count: 3 trillion or just everyone in the world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 8&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/misadventure-of-ms-p-vol-1-bread-under.html&quot;&gt;The&amp;nbsp;Misadventure of Ms P Vol 1: Bread Under the Stars?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXg0KswPzxZbZo3KFc7VRPbhZS09vfj9yiqrF3t7HdoKzHfa_w4IU_MK6aSUXv-_XpOsYRmg_fR9W6VVJ31J7v1kjQdfcBEdz4HTBDCj3s5kSkGkI17OYPebvUmVLS0QBBWUz415dbswv/s1600/IMG_0008.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXg0KswPzxZbZo3KFc7VRPbhZS09vfj9yiqrF3t7HdoKzHfa_w4IU_MK6aSUXv-_XpOsYRmg_fR9W6VVJ31J7v1kjQdfcBEdz4HTBDCj3s5kSkGkI17OYPebvUmVLS0QBBWUz415dbswv/s320/IMG_0008.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This was a short break for all that dark horror stuff. The story was from my blog editor Elle. I just do the drawing. She really didn&#39;t give much to work on but just a small piece of paper telling the story. I thought it was a love letter when she handed the paper. It really was a love letter, but it was drawn like a six year old kid. (No offense Elle hohoh). This was also an experiment of doing some comedy. Maybe we get to hear again from Ms. P. Just wait for it. The picture was a parody of the header. And the art style was cartoonish.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body Count: 1...just my dark side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 9&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/rururu-song-that-change-world.html&quot;&gt;Rururu (The song that changed the world)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcPy_ez6zP1QP2yja99IAzAEAWXrcC4GDsllbVqB-s1IWxOAw987bDp6W33UxaaYCjJhiAZTvymYkE1mkR_8hlK5Xfw6-ssVJTy-5ZK6TN_hOjGoIQ4oX5osD_Pkf1H2sakxwqhU4tTkk/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcPy_ez6zP1QP2yja99IAzAEAWXrcC4GDsllbVqB-s1IWxOAw987bDp6W33UxaaYCjJhiAZTvymYkE1mkR_8hlK5Xfw6-ssVJTy-5ZK6TN_hOjGoIQ4oX5osD_Pkf1H2sakxwqhU4tTkk/s320/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;243&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Well this is really a strange post. The song came first, then the story and finally the picture. It all started with a song. It was a song from a Japanese drama I watched when I was young. It was entitled Tell Me You Love Me. It was a story about a deaf guy falling in love with a dancer if I remember correctly. But it was not related to my story. Its a story about a friend whom I cared so dearly. The picture I drew also wasn&#39;t related to the story. I just drew it. But it looked&amp;nbsp;weird tough. I don&#39;t know why. The song was entitled Love Love Love by &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.dctjoy.com/&quot;&gt;Dreams Comes True&lt;/a&gt;. If you are looking for the lyric click &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.animelyrics.com/jpop/dreamscometrue/lovelovelove.htm&quot;&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body Count: 0...is that an angel I saw...am I dead now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 10&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/02/rule-32-enjoy-little-things.html&quot;&gt;Rule No. 32: Enjoy the Little Things&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZqXXKimteFl_F2poWeLivKGkowhV16NNKuF0QOKychSglYFkMjHlnlGsKU52GFY9-I1ZgxRbRHUfLcCeKfWR67hHMEpP9TfOANA_rW0gRpB1ibG1j1Av-E0bfkbwnnp7ILZ2lYWfsF6o/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZqXXKimteFl_F2poWeLivKGkowhV16NNKuF0QOKychSglYFkMjHlnlGsKU52GFY9-I1ZgxRbRHUfLcCeKfWR67hHMEpP9TfOANA_rW0gRpB1ibG1j1Av-E0bfkbwnnp7ILZ2lYWfsF6o/s320/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;226&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This was my new post for a while since I&#39;ve been off about a month. I started writing it before I&#39;m offline. But only finished it just recently. This was a silly story tough. Even the picture looked like another horror story. It was in fact a sweet, silly story. It was a tribute to a zombie movie called &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1156398/&quot;&gt;Zombie Land&lt;/a&gt;. The &lt;a href=&quot;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zombieland&quot;&gt;rules&lt;/a&gt; always stuck in my brain. I had a mixed feeling about this post. I don&#39;t know&amp;nbsp;whether it suck or good. It was a story about a man obsessed with zombie movies. He talk about it to a girl dying of cancer. Strange right? But the downside of this post is that it was just too long. I don&#39;t think people will read it at first glance though, At first I wanted to draw them holding each other while zombies are attacking them. But in fact it turn out to hard. I was hard just to draw the girl face. So I just made the guy turn into a zombie. It was easy drawing a zombie face than a girl face. I don&#39;t know why.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body Count: 1...he felled down a stairs and no he didn&#39;t turned into a zombie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Post 11&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href=&quot;http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-suicide-letter.html&quot;&gt;My suicide letter&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7Q__Ecx8cbfUf_KoATaBVzKUq0gZWuxcBYm0HMrF1DcEIcuRI5dMOet83CFzQnqTJKB3_iBGVXt67CqFO1PM_OKIxx9pW6mWXEYYnCJVyNSv0ihYwL8bPFTlDwiw0HHAgwmI-7kQgNz6/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7Q__Ecx8cbfUf_KoATaBVzKUq0gZWuxcBYm0HMrF1DcEIcuRI5dMOet83CFzQnqTJKB3_iBGVXt67CqFO1PM_OKIxx9pW6mWXEYYnCJVyNSv0ihYwL8bPFTlDwiw0HHAgwmI-7kQgNz6/s320/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;229&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This was my latest piece. About a suicide letter. The story came from a dream. I originally tried to write a real letter containing two or three pages long. It tells about the character life, the good times, the bad time and before the last breath. I did want to write on how he devise on how he wanted to end his life. But it really was just too long. So I skipped it and turn it into a mystery letter. Did he wrote it, or the letter just haunted. Maybe in the near future I will write a real suicide letter. Just hope it wont really be mine. The picture is a chair and a bed with two person covered in sheets. For the sake of&amp;nbsp;mysteriousness I just draw it like that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Body Count: 3...and he was really sorry about the mess&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Total body count: 3 trilion and 11 bodies...not bad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;That was all my post up till now. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment about anything. I also like to thank my editor for promoting the blog. She&#39;s the one doing the talking and answering all the comments. I guess I&#39;m just a little bit shy. But you don&#39;t have to be. Just leave a comment and I try to answer all comments. If not Elle will. She really a blogger addict. I&#39;m just a shy lonely wannabe novelist.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;If you think my story was cool please leave a comment. If it suck also please leave a comment. If you think my art was okay please a comment. If its like a scribbling of an eight year old please leave a comment. If you want to &#39;tackle&#39; Elle please leave a comment. If you like donut please leave a comment. If don&#39;t have anything to do please leave a comment. If you want to marry me please leave a comment. If you think I need to see a shrink leave a comment. If you want to see me write about something leave a comment. If you want me to draw something leave a comment. If you ever wonder I&#39;m handsome or not just leave a comment. If you think my grammar contain lot of mistake leave a comment. Or you just want to comment about nothing just leave a comment. If you are gay...I&#39;m sorry please look elsewhere.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;If you&#39;re interested in knowing me. You can contact me on my FB; vampireinthesun@yahoo.com.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/5331041169160134597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/5331041169160134597?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/5331041169160134597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/5331041169160134597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/02/digging-up-grave-reminiscence-part-1.html' title='Digging up the grave: Reminiscence part 1'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wQyjaVquJEx8ixdUnTKEYK0n1klrbA4u8u7jVLpXlKBWIz4gYRlR5VnM5BPfBv4s1OhQWGTMa9h3wNeV-sU0g3nJ9Hl1fpKBggimpzcFY6euBBkRlR4feBpwelh8pHBCvkSbYrAVFUrM/s72-c/a+500+words+story.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-5150880017872389749</id><published>2011-02-24T15:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T16:01:07.278+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My suicide letter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;I went home early that day. As I entered my house, I saw the letter. It was on the floor. I picked it up. There was no address or any stamps on it.&amp;nbsp;Only my name,&amp;nbsp;Alexander Greene, was written on it. &amp;nbsp;It seems that someone just slips the letter under the door. I opened it and read its contents.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;To whom it may concern,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;My name is Alexander Greene, and this is my suicide letter. If you&#39;re reading this, its mean that I&#39;m no longer in this world. And I bid you farewell. This world have taken its toll on me, and I have no strength left to fight it. Everything I do ended in ruin. Everyone I love, left me. I have nothing left accept my life. But it will all be over soon.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;All those hatred and lies that been pounded on me all these years, have left bitter and crooked. I was not the man I was once. All those hope and dreams for a better future, was now just a figment of imagination. A naive attempt of a young man, now turned into rubbles of dirt and&amp;nbsp;feces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Yes, I still remember all those good years. Every single one of it was engraved inside my brain. Even if I tried to forget it, it came back like slashing knives, making the pain even worst. I was once rich and famous. A had a life that every man craved for. But it was not the riches or the fame that kept me burning all those year, it was Olivia, the love of my life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Olivia, oh my sweet Olivia, how many years it has been since I tasted her strawberry lips. How I crave for her warmth every night. Her beauty was like lightning in the dark night sky, flashy and yet so dangerous. Captivating for anyone who got a glimpse of it. A beauty that make every man tremble to his knees. You were mine Olivia, and that alone is enough for me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I gave her everything, my life even my soul. But to her, it wasn&#39;t enough. That dark truthful night on Valentine&#39;s Day have made it clear to me. I bought her a bouquet of red roses. It was her favorite. But I was surprised when I got home that night. On the bed we chose together, there she was with someone who was not me. But I was not mad or angry. She was Olivia, the love of my life. She would stay with me forever. I went to kitchen and came back to the room. The red roses that was in my hand was gone. All I had in my hand was a knife that I bought for her last year. Before I knew what had happened. She was cold and motionless on the bed with the man who was not me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Oh, how it tears me apart to see her like this. Her warmth was replaced with a sharp cold. I&#39;m sorry for everything my sweetheart. But don&#39;t be afraid. I would join you soon enough. I have tied a rope on the ceiling and made a knot fit for a neck at the end of it. I placed a chair right underneath it. It was facing you that still lay motionless on the bed. This way when it all ends I can still see your face. Wait for me Olivia. I&#39;m coming to embrace you again. Wait for me... And to you, whomever read this letter, I&#39;m sorry for the mess.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;No longer in this world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Alexander&amp;nbsp;Greene&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7Q__Ecx8cbfUf_KoATaBVzKUq0gZWuxcBYm0HMrF1DcEIcuRI5dMOet83CFzQnqTJKB3_iBGVXt67CqFO1PM_OKIxx9pW6mWXEYYnCJVyNSv0ihYwL8bPFTlDwiw0HHAgwmI-7kQgNz6/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7Q__Ecx8cbfUf_KoATaBVzKUq0gZWuxcBYm0HMrF1DcEIcuRI5dMOet83CFzQnqTJKB3_iBGVXt67CqFO1PM_OKIxx9pW6mWXEYYnCJVyNSv0ihYwL8bPFTlDwiw0HHAgwmI-7kQgNz6/s640/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;456&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;I stumbled on my knees. Was this true? Was this my suicide letter? The writing was mine, the signature was mine, I recognized it. This was indeed my letter, but I don&#39;t ever recalled writing it. Did I do it&amp;nbsp;unconsciously? I don&#39;t remember any Olivia. I had a girlfriend once, but her name was Carol. But we broke up a couple of year ago. He left with another man. But it never made me feel like killing her tough. I did love her but it was a long time ago. I checked on the letter again to see the date it was written. The date was clearly written on the top right of the letter. It was &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;24th February, 2011&lt;/span&gt;. That is today&#39;s date. Just ten days after &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Valentine&#39;s Day&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;I felt sick to the stomach. I tried to get up steadying my feet. I went to my room. The room was a mess. I never had any chance to clean it. The room was dark and the lights doesn&#39;t seem to be working. There were many dried red petal scattered everywhere on the floor. I tried to find my way to my bed in the darkness. But I stumbled upon a chair. The chair was facing the bed and above it was a rope, tied to the ceiling. I climbed on the chair and inspected the rope. It was tied with a knot that nicely fit the neck. I put the rope around my neck and fasten it. And there I can see in the shadow upon the bed. There were two dark figure. Laying, unmoving. My eyes grew heavy on me, and then I fall and tripped over the chair I was standing on. I hung on the rope that was fasten around my neck. My feet was slightly two inches above the floor. And then I dropped the letter that I wasn&#39;t even aware holding it. And one day, someone will read it. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;And I really felt bad for the one who&#39;s gonna clean up all this mes&lt;/span&gt;s. THE END&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/5150880017872389749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/5150880017872389749?isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/5150880017872389749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/5150880017872389749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-suicide-letter.html' title='My suicide letter'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7Q__Ecx8cbfUf_KoATaBVzKUq0gZWuxcBYm0HMrF1DcEIcuRI5dMOet83CFzQnqTJKB3_iBGVXt67CqFO1PM_OKIxx9pW6mWXEYYnCJVyNSv0ihYwL8bPFTlDwiw0HHAgwmI-7kQgNz6/s72-c/IMG.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-3754810272310439423</id><published>2011-02-23T03:08:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T14:52:05.424+08:00</updated><title type='text'>RULE NO. 32: Enjoy the little things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZqXXKimteFl_F2poWeLivKGkowhV16NNKuF0QOKychSglYFkMjHlnlGsKU52GFY9-I1ZgxRbRHUfLcCeKfWR67hHMEpP9TfOANA_rW0gRpB1ibG1j1Av-E0bfkbwnnp7ILZ2lYWfsF6o/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZqXXKimteFl_F2poWeLivKGkowhV16NNKuF0QOKychSglYFkMjHlnlGsKU52GFY9-I1ZgxRbRHUfLcCeKfWR67hHMEpP9TfOANA_rW0gRpB1ibG1j1Av-E0bfkbwnnp7ILZ2lYWfsF6o/s640/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;452&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;goog_1318162145&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Do you ever heard the movie called&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Night of the Living Dead&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;The Dead hates the Living&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;I, Zombie&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;8 Days Later&lt;/span&gt;? Or&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Zombie Land&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;? Well &amp;nbsp;neither did I, until I met that zombie movie obsessed man.&amp;nbsp;I was 14 when I met him. I &amp;nbsp;was siting on the chair on the hall way of the women&#39;s ward. I just sat there doing nothing but watching people as they passed by. Patients, Nurses, Doctors, they all walk on without noticing me. I guess I&#39;m not even important to even be noticed by anyone, until he came. He passed me by at first, but then he turn back, and then he passed me again. He turned back and stood in front of me. He was tall and had black hair. He wore a patient clothes and his head was bandaged. I guess he must be another patient in the hospital. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Why so lonely, little girl?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; he said to me smiling. I didn&#39;t answer him. At first I thought he was some kind of pervert. This was after all the women&#39;s ward. Except for doctors and families, no men were allowed inside even if he was a patient.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;I thought if I kept quiet he would leave. But then he sat next to me. It was kind of awkward at first. A stranger I didn&#39;t even know his name sat next to me. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;What are you in here for girly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;?&quot; he said to me. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m here cause of an accident, slip on the floor and banged my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; he point to his head. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;So what happen to you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; he asked me. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;I&#39;ve got cancer on my brain and I&#39;m going to die soon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I answered him. He was silent for a moment. That usually do the trick. They always leave awkwardly after hearing something like that. They alway do. It was the truth and I really am dying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;He was silent for a few instant, but then he suddenly started talking. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Did you ever watch a movie called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Zombie Land&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I ignored him thinking when he&#39;s going to leave but he kept on talking. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;You haven&#39;t did you? Well it&#39;s a zombie movie but not as great as the one done by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;George A. Romero&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; he kept talking about zombie stuff and I really could&#39;t understand him. It was mostly about gross stuff how zombie eat people or something. At first I think he was just trying to hide his sympathy towards me. Like all the grown up do when they heard I got cancer. Always changing the topic to how beautiful the day was. Trying to lift my spirit up by encouraging and all that. But this man was different. He talk about the walking dead to a girl whose going to die tomorrow or the day after that. If he was trying to lift my spirit up it was really in a weird way. But he was really spirited when he talks about the zombies. The way his eyes glows when he talks about something he liked it fascinates me. It been a while since someone talk to me like that. Most people just look me with the same look as if I was a freak or something. Those&amp;nbsp;sympathetic eyes, always looking blank. Even my mom looked at me like that. I hate it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/goog_1318162150&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;...well even it&#39;s not a really great movie. There something that I like about it. It has these &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: magenta; color: white;&quot;&gt;50 rules&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt; you have to follow in order to survive the zombie apocalypse. Here I&#39;m going to show you.&lt;/span&gt;&quot; he stood up.&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;&quot;Listen carefully kid&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: magenta; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: white;&quot;&gt;Rule No. 1! Cardio!&lt;/span&gt;&quot; And then started&amp;nbsp;exercising in the hall ways. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;You got to stay fit! You never know when you are going to be chase by a bunch of zombies!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; he kept exercising and doing sit ups. It was kind of&amp;nbsp;embarrassing.&amp;nbsp;Exercising in the hall way and making noise. Everyone was watching. I tried to &amp;nbsp;act as if i didn&#39;t know him. Well I really don&#39;t know him at all. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Hey what are you doing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; shouted the head nurse across the hall. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;You shouldn&#39;t be here! This is the women ward&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;&quot;Uh oh...the zombies has come...I got to get out of here. Hey by the way I&#39;m Edward...you can call me Ed and you are...?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m Deborah...Debby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I answered&amp;nbsp;hesitantly. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Well Debby...its nice meeting you. Lets meet again tomorrow. I tell you more about the rules.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; and then he ran off chased by the head nurse. What a silly man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;The next day he really came to see me. He came to my room. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Hullo kid...It was hard to find your room. Do you know there&#39;s about 10 people with the name Deborah in this hospital. Quite a popular name you got there. Well...Deborah was the main character name in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Night of the Living Dead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;...bla bla bla..&lt;/span&gt;&quot; He kept on blabbing. Later I found out that he secretly check on my name on the patient list when the nurses was elsewhere. He entered several other girls room with the name as mine before he entered my room. He was chased off again and again by nurses. He said it was&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: magenta; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: white;&quot;&gt;Rule No. 2; Double Tap&lt;/span&gt;. To always make sure the dead stays dead or in this case to make sure to check&amp;nbsp;whether&amp;nbsp;he got my room right or not. But to me it was just as an excuse to check up on girls. He also tried to sneak in the girls bathroom. But caught by the nurses.&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: magenta; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: white;&quot;&gt;Rule No 3; Beware of Bathroom&lt;/span&gt;.&quot; He said to me laughingly. What a pervert. After a while he was chased away from my room by the nurses again.&lt;br /&gt;
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The third day, he came again. He brought a wheelchair with him. With so much persuasion, I finally sit on the wheelchair. &quot;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: magenta; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: white;&quot;&gt;Rule No. 4; Fasten Your&amp;nbsp;Seatbelt&lt;/span&gt;&quot;.&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Huh? What&#39;s he talking about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I thought to myself. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Just hold on tigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;t&quot; he said to me. With that he pushes the wheel chair across the hallways. We were going so fast. He was running as he pushes the wheel chair. It was embarrassing. Some patient shouted at us and some even cheer us on. It was pretty lively in the hospital that day. All thanks to him. The nurses immediately caught wind of us. The nurses tried to chase us. But we ran and hid on the roof top. I lay flat on the floor of the rooftop. Its been &amp;nbsp;awhile since I ever get that excited. He lay next to me. Both of us looked at the sky. It was really beautiful. And then he started talking about the zombie nonsense again. I just listen, giggled and smiled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He came on the fourth day to meet me. He was banned from entering the women&#39;s ward because the of the things he did earlier. So we had to secretly met at the roof top. It was our secret meeting place. I grew fond of him. Aside from the zombie obsession and a little bit of a pervert, he was actually a nice man. All he ever talks about was the zombie movies he watched and the rules. Maybe he was making up the rules I thought at first. But nevertheless, it makes me happy just to see him. We spent all day at the roof top that day.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;On the fifth day, we met on the roof top. He was a little bit strange, he didn&#39;t talk about those dreadful zombies anymore. He talked about his life. He had a friend, a close friend. But she is getting married next month. I guess he kind of liked her. I knew because he said after he got heard of the news she was getting married, he drove so fast and rammed up at tree. Thats why he is in here. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;If you liked her, why don&#39;t you just tell her? Maybe she got the same feeling as you. Well it&#39;s still not to late.&lt;/span&gt;&quot; He just looked at me and smiled. &quot;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: magenta; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: white;&quot;&gt;Rule No. 17; Don&#39;t Be A Hero&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Well we never really know that do we. If it was even true. It would just hurt us more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot;.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;So you just want to sit here and let her go without saying anything? You are just a coward. And those rules are nonsense. You even skip 5 other rules already. It just your excuse for hiding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I was mad at him for absolutely no reason. We fell silent for a while and then he spoke,&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m checking out tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I was shocked, I knew he will eventually got out but not this early. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;The doc said that I&#39;m good to go. With all the ruckus I made they say I&#39;m fit as a horse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I tried to hold my tears. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Would you come to visit me sometimes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot;.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;I don&#39;t know kid, I don&#39;t think I can come to see you again. But don&#39;t worry I&#39;m sure your friends will come and keep you company.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; After hearing that I just stood and started shouting at him. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;You are just the same as them! As everyone else. You never understand! You never really cared about me! I have no friends that would come and visit me. Everybody thinks I&#39;m a freak. Soon my hair will fall out cause of chemo...and then I&#39;m really going to be a freak. I will be dead within a month, but you won&#39;t. If you know you have not long to live, would you waste your time like this? Don&#39;t you want to tell the one you love that you love her? I hate you and your zombie story!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; I left for the roof exit. I will not cry for this man. &quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Hey wait! Don&#39;t you want to hear the next rule&lt;/span&gt;?&quot; he said to me. I paused at the exit. &quot;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: magenta; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: white;&quot;&gt;Rule No 32; Enjoy the Little things&lt;/span&gt;&quot;.&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Silly, you just skipped 15 other rules again just now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&quot; He smiled and I left him there alone on the rooftop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He didn&#39;t come so see me on the next day. I heard from the nurses that he checked out earlier that morning. He didn&#39;t even come to say goodbye. He never did finishes telling me all those silly rules. I wouldn&#39;t cry for him. I wouldn&#39;t miss that silly, perverted, zombie movie obsessed man. He was out enjoying his life and here I&#39;m still in the hospital watching people pass by without ever noticing me. Day by day passed on, an all my hair was gone because of the&amp;nbsp;chemotherapy. The cancer still is there inside me and I knew then there was no reason to live anymore.&lt;br /&gt;
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One day a woman came to see me. I did not know her. She has this pale look and sadness in her eyes. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Are you Debbie?&lt;/span&gt;&quot; she said to me. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Yes&lt;/span&gt;&quot; I answered.&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m Ed&#39;s friend, Sarah. I&#39;m here to give you these&lt;/span&gt;&quot; her hand was shaken when she gave the parcel she was holding on. She was silent for a while then she started to spoke. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m sorry Ed is dead&lt;/span&gt;.&quot; I was shocked, but I will never cry for that silly man. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;He was packing his stuff to go London and then he suddenly slipped down the stairs. He broke his neck.&lt;/span&gt;&quot; The woman was in tears as she said this. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;It&#39;s been a while since I met him. The &amp;nbsp;last time I met him, he always talks about you. A girl he met in the hospital. He said that you were timid and shy, so he talk about zombie to make you smile. He must have bored you with one of his silly zombie movie didn&#39;t he? I didn&#39;t know why he likes that dreadful stuff&lt;/span&gt;&quot; She was silent a moment. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;But that last time he was different somehow. He told me his feeling for me. Or so how long for I waited for him to say it to me. But he was already to late. I am getting married. But he said to me that it was okay. He love me with all his heart. He was just afraid to ruin our friendship and all he ever wanted for me was to be happy. He said he will be sad if he never get the chance to say his feeling towards me. I was silent all that time. But now I feared, that I was the one to late to tell him that I loved him also&lt;/span&gt;.&quot; Her tears drops like rain onto her dress. This was the girl that Ed loved. And this girl loved him also. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Um...sorry for all the talk. You still to young to understand&lt;/span&gt;.&quot; I did understand, all to well. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Its nice meeting you, Debbie. I&#39;m sorry that Ed can&#39;t come to visit you anymore. He did plan to visit you before he went to London. Here he wanted you to have this. I don&#39;t know what&#39;s inside, but I guess he wanted you to have this. This was I&#39;m here to to begin with. Goodbye Debbie.&lt;/span&gt;&#39;&#39; and then she left.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/goog_1318162150&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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I was alone in my room with the parcel that was supposed to be given to me by Ed. But he was now dead. Inside the parcel was DVD case, it was a movie. The movie was entitled &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Zombie Land&lt;/span&gt;. I beg the nurse to watch the DVD. At first she refused, but when I said it was from a friend that had died recently, she agreed. That night I watch my first ever zombie movie. I didn&#39;t like it. With all the blood and gore stuff. I never understand why he even like this kind of thing. But in this movie it introduced the 50 rules that Ed so liked about. Now I knew why he skipped and never ever finishes telling about the rules. The 50 rules was just a symbol, in the movie it never tells all the rules. And some rules like don&#39;t be a hero can&amp;nbsp;sometimes&amp;nbsp;be changed. Like he did by telling Sarah, his feeling. But the most important rules of all, eventhough life get tough and sometime you have to break the rules, always remember &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: magenta; color: white;&quot;&gt;Rule No 32&lt;/span&gt;.....&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: magenta; color: white;&quot;&gt;Enjoy the Little thing&lt;/span&gt;. I cried that night. I cried for that silly man.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/goog_1318162150&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Well I suppose to die in a little while. But I didn&#39;t. I didn&#39;t die the next day. I didn&#39;t die the next week. I didn&#39;t die the next month or year. I eventually leaved the hospital. The doctor said it was a miracle. But I didn&#39;t care. Eventhough I didn&#39;t die, I just enjoyed being alive while I can. There was a man who I knew for five days, he was a perverted, zombie obsessed man. Although he was like that, he was really a nice man. He taught me to enjoy the little things while I can. And that what I&#39;m planning to do with the rest of my life. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: blue; color: white;&quot;&gt;THE END&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;goog_1318162146&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/3754810272310439423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/3754810272310439423?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/3754810272310439423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/3754810272310439423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/02/rule-32-enjoy-little-things.html' title='RULE NO. 32: Enjoy the little things'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZqXXKimteFl_F2poWeLivKGkowhV16NNKuF0QOKychSglYFkMjHlnlGsKU52GFY9-I1ZgxRbRHUfLcCeKfWR67hHMEpP9TfOANA_rW0gRpB1ibG1j1Av-E0bfkbwnnp7ILZ2lYWfsF6o/s72-c/IMG.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-233082288356646232</id><published>2011-01-26T05:30:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T18:42:50.185+08:00</updated><title type='text'>rururu (the song that change the world)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcPy_ez6zP1QP2yja99IAzAEAWXrcC4GDsllbVqB-s1IWxOAw987bDp6W33UxaaYCjJhiAZTvymYkE1mkR_8hlK5Xfw6-ssVJTy-5ZK6TN_hOjGoIQ4oX5osD_Pkf1H2sakxwqhU4tTkk/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcPy_ez6zP1QP2yja99IAzAEAWXrcC4GDsllbVqB-s1IWxOAw987bDp6W33UxaaYCjJhiAZTvymYkE1mkR_8hlK5Xfw6-ssVJTy-5ZK6TN_hOjGoIQ4oX5osD_Pkf1H2sakxwqhU4tTkk/s640/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;486&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Nee doushite sugoku sugoku suki na koto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Tada tsutaetai dake nanoni rururururu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Umaku ienaindarou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;I should have move on, I should have hold on. I had my heart broken again. I should have move on. But I just ended right where I started. It started with you. Here I am now, with you. Same as two years ago, &amp;nbsp;same as always. There you are again tending to my broken heart. I wish I could hold you, but your hands were already holding someone else. Whenever I&#39;m here with you, I feel happy and yet so sad. There was a song that I liked, but I didn&#39;t remember how it goes.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Nee semete yumede aitai to negau&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Yoruni kagitte ichidomo rururururu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Detekitewa kurenaine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;I should have told you that day, I should have hold you that day. On that little beach on the far side of the world, there we are together, sitting on the rock just made for two. The sun was shining bright, but that little tree just gave us shades just right. With our feet ever burying in the sand as tides came in. We knew it was just perfect, to me at least. There&#39;s something I want to tell you. But the words seems so hard to come out. Instead I just swallowed it all. Maybe I was afraid then, maybe this feeling was just a phase. We just talk about the life we had these past few years, played in water, and then we left. And then I remembered that song. The melodies was cheery but somehow gave a melancholic feeling.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Nee doushite sugoku aishiteru hitoni&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Aishiteru to yuudakede rururururu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Namidaga dechaundarou...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I should have told you that night, I should have hold you that night. But I didn&#39;t. As the tears started to swell up in my eyes. I left. And then the tears started to drop like rain falls. Tears I didn&#39;t knew I had. I cry but I never knew why. You did ask me why. But I lie. After the tears dried up, we went out. As other sleep and dreams about the star, we were awake and lively as the owls. We hang out together till the morning at that cafe, we didn&#39;t talk much but just sit there watching the Mothman on the television. I sent you back. That evening I receive a text from you...saying you are crying. Both of us knew that night was the last night we would ever meet. The world had&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;separate&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;us apart and so as my heart. And then I remembered the words of the song. But I never understand it, because it was a foreign song.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Futari deatta higa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Sukoshizutsu omoideni nattemo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I shouldn&#39;t have told you, I shouldn&#39;t have hold this feeling towards you. But I couldn&#39;t take it anymore. I couldn&#39;t pretend anymore. I told you everything that night. But all you ever said was...if we met earlier things would be different. But we didn&#39;t. Your hands still hold the hand that was not mine. And all I had was the stars. Eventhough it was beautiful way up in the heaven, it really was just a dead rock floating in space. Dead under the stars. Now I know the meaning of that foreign song.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Aishiteru aishiteru rururururu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Nee doushite&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;Namidaga detyaundarou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;There was a song that I liked. It was a foreign song. Its melodies was cheerful but yet so sad. If you heard it, you may liked it or may not liked it. It was not an everybody song. But it was very meaningful. It was a song that changed the world. It changed my world. Here, I heard the song echoing in my little heart....rurururu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;LOVE LOVE aiwo sakebou aiwo yobou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; font-family: inherit; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen=&#39;allowfullscreen&#39; webkitallowfullscreen=&#39;webkitallowfullscreen&#39; mozallowfullscreen=&#39;mozallowfullscreen&#39; width=&#39;320&#39; height=&#39;266&#39; src=&#39;https://www.youtube.com/embed/Xk51AYSNKUc?feature=player_embedded&#39; frameborder=&#39;0&#39;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/233082288356646232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/233082288356646232?isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/233082288356646232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/233082288356646232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/rururu-song-that-change-world.html' title='rururu (the song that change the world)'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcPy_ez6zP1QP2yja99IAzAEAWXrcC4GDsllbVqB-s1IWxOAw987bDp6W33UxaaYCjJhiAZTvymYkE1mkR_8hlK5Xfw6-ssVJTy-5ZK6TN_hOjGoIQ4oX5osD_Pkf1H2sakxwqhU4tTkk/s72-c/IMG.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-557030434471781483</id><published>2011-01-09T21:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T21:58:53.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Misadventure of Ms. P Vol 1 : Bread Under the Stars?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: orange; color: white;&quot;&gt;Take a break, have a kuweek...!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8B_OisgWOhzAucdwbsCPTM4zBzvNTElw1SdZ8o1yg4_ishVwOiblaUeC70VKQFfulrqxC4oAeiRjGqpN0BkPOA6sEyKSILZcjJaUkjxfbGvFq8lgrEu6vZrOc4MUGqU1-uFvofweTdpk/s1600/IMG_0008.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8B_OisgWOhzAucdwbsCPTM4zBzvNTElw1SdZ8o1yg4_ishVwOiblaUeC70VKQFfulrqxC4oAeiRjGqpN0BkPOA6sEyKSILZcjJaUkjxfbGvFq8lgrEu6vZrOc4MUGqU1-uFvofweTdpk/s400/IMG_0008.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;This is a &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: blue; color: white;&quot;&gt;true story&lt;/span&gt; that happen to &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms. P.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwAHUYKoAPHVeeALCMrrNwLNe-TW8m8uZXA6zZ_obm3XFDqY-yqT9qLxyAFaEiTIWuJCBLGmTRIY5kOnWGTH2mEees8OXLiGjxtFQQ6rZ6llmcdAJqkfJ4msjb4AUfXhPNSazkrS4p-gG/s1600/IMG_0009.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwAHUYKoAPHVeeALCMrrNwLNe-TW8m8uZXA6zZ_obm3XFDqY-yqT9qLxyAFaEiTIWuJCBLGmTRIY5kOnWGTH2mEees8OXLiGjxtFQQ6rZ6llmcdAJqkfJ4msjb4AUfXhPNSazkrS4p-gG/s400/IMG_0009.jpg&quot; width=&quot;290&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Its was a nice &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;shiny&lt;/span&gt; day.&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt; Ms P&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms B&lt;/span&gt; are off to take a walk. Talking about girls stuff that would never make any sense to any boys. Just girls being girls. (&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: cyan;&quot;&gt;Yes, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms B&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: cyan;&quot;&gt;is a girl bear, see the ribbon on her head?&lt;/span&gt;)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3U9MVulIeNbCdWVs0AYjBoCBMuHqxW3gdBsUmWV4F15fTIUU4r7FgAfI_GimylP2H4wjkP9QHi_pxpYkinLp6aTC_j2otDWP7tb3xP7-6bXfesdWqSQqrcY336r2YabSZWeS61guBtMs/s1600/IMG_0007.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;291&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3U9MVulIeNbCdWVs0AYjBoCBMuHqxW3gdBsUmWV4F15fTIUU4r7FgAfI_GimylP2H4wjkP9QHi_pxpYkinLp6aTC_j2otDWP7tb3xP7-6bXfesdWqSQqrcY336r2YabSZWeS61guBtMs/s400/IMG_0007.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;But suddenly, &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms. P&lt;/span&gt; hot guys radar sense is tingling! &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Bzz! Eonng! Eonng!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #38761d;&quot;&gt;The Platypus Radar Antenna&lt;/span&gt; is scanning the area.&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt; BEEP!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Target sighted!&lt;/span&gt; Its on Ms P. three o&#39;clock.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUB1KKhF_hKzPbK4MF0J7wTXjUgcFUSnOwn5TnnIRj6Eu5xt1onYOns7Hb91VATjG-VS90XVSnm0CaivGxO0DOLkUCBhQ0H0kQwS0jDFnhhBoRjLR1pUUK-ldPyCRDBrcmO66LR9fVUcnX/s1600/IMG_0006.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;290&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUB1KKhF_hKzPbK4MF0J7wTXjUgcFUSnOwn5TnnIRj6Eu5xt1onYOns7Hb91VATjG-VS90XVSnm0CaivGxO0DOLkUCBhQ0H0kQwS0jDFnhhBoRjLR1pUUK-ldPyCRDBrcmO66LR9fVUcnX/s400/IMG_0006.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;TARGET LOCKED!&lt;/span&gt; Wow! &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;A hot guy!&lt;/span&gt; And there&#39;s two of them. Well done &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms. P&lt;/span&gt;. I guess your hot guys radar really work. There she goes, all over the hot guys. Even her eyes turned into a heart shape. Mind your manner &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms. P&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;&quot;Kuweeeekkkkkkkkk!&lt;/span&gt;&quot; she said. Translation: &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt;Hunky and delicious! I&#39;ve fallen for them. I want to make them mine! He&#39;s the one for me. My prince charming!&lt;/span&gt;&quot; (&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: cyan;&quot;&gt;I guess that what she said. I don&#39;t really under stand platypus language&lt;/span&gt;). Ah...love at first sight, how romantic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuqMrbR2Oa5Zh3pU61iKtdJG4OzO0bVI5NLxrVzWbIi1HKhxX5hrj4OB0r7lAlKlvs1NSS8xls6pzgO1NSW3sofdFFcTU313ol-t6BZHBIiI-ooe1QLBdEChmfg_NqJHXgGv-4J1wOwqgV/s1600/IMG_0005.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuqMrbR2Oa5Zh3pU61iKtdJG4OzO0bVI5NLxrVzWbIi1HKhxX5hrj4OB0r7lAlKlvs1NSS8xls6pzgO1NSW3sofdFFcTU313ol-t6BZHBIiI-ooe1QLBdEChmfg_NqJHXgGv-4J1wOwqgV/s400/IMG_0005.jpg&quot; width=&quot;248&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;This is how they looked in &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms. P&lt;/span&gt; eyes. Two &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;prince charming&lt;/span&gt; riding on on a great white horse. Smiling with those pearly smile. Guys who looked handsome like this should be &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;rich&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;famous&lt;/span&gt; right? They should be sons of a &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;millionaire&lt;/span&gt; or a &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;businessman&lt;/span&gt;. They should have &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;big house&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: orange;&quot;&gt;big cars&lt;/span&gt;. Oh how &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;dreamy&lt;/span&gt;. Its every girls dreams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAroW8qchLSVrXpjK1yRAdc2CtaIusT3Lh3CLI8LtGtT7oDNMyqyu6fg1LtBCPKZYx6LFrRei2o24t3SEjRhFSJkBRVa8GaRmlF_58ez8OayQdofGnMVg8ureEsQZQXDwAzXLBBIvn5gG/s1600/IMG_0004.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;290&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAroW8qchLSVrXpjK1yRAdc2CtaIusT3Lh3CLI8LtGtT7oDNMyqyu6fg1LtBCPKZYx6LFrRei2o24t3SEjRhFSJkBRVa8GaRmlF_58ez8OayQdofGnMVg8ureEsQZQXDwAzXLBBIvn5gG/s400/IMG_0004.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;But in reality....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;According to&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt; Ms. P&lt;/span&gt; they were actually&amp;nbsp;Myanmar people who worked in a factory. I don&#39;t know if they really were handsome or anything. But maybe she&#39;s into them, I guess. (&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: cyan;&quot;&gt;No offense to the Myanmar people and sorry for the drawing. I got lazy to draw their faces again so I just put in numbers on their face&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LGOsP3i1CnUC5AOBjzUMcDzSM3Xr8yLd-D0UKX4R8CTCKKM1AFGpxa65W8x4rPDtkBEOJBgQ4QZFlrmYgVGuWrX5o7h-_tVfhNEKUTkFPsSQx9KktmMjH7CarIOfEfmT8dc4_Cn6Tzn0/s1600/IMG_0003.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;287&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LGOsP3i1CnUC5AOBjzUMcDzSM3Xr8yLd-D0UKX4R8CTCKKM1AFGpxa65W8x4rPDtkBEOJBgQ4QZFlrmYgVGuWrX5o7h-_tVfhNEKUTkFPsSQx9KktmMjH7CarIOfEfmT8dc4_Cn6Tzn0/s400/IMG_0003.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;There they go....paddling at the speed of light. The handsome, man hugging, bicycle riding dreamy person was too good to be true. Poor &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms. P&lt;/span&gt;...I guess she had to keep moving on in the search for true love. Don&#39;t worry &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Ms. P&lt;/span&gt;, as they say &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #bf9000;&quot;&gt;&#39;Love come in many form&#39;&lt;/span&gt;. Just believe in yourself. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: blue;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: white;&quot;&gt;The End.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: blue;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Story by Ms Platypus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Arts and ruining the story by Amri GloomySunday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/557030434471781483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/557030434471781483?isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/557030434471781483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/557030434471781483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/misadventure-of-ms-p-vol-1-bread-under.html' title='The Misadventure of Ms. P Vol 1 : Bread Under the Stars?'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8B_OisgWOhzAucdwbsCPTM4zBzvNTElw1SdZ8o1yg4_ishVwOiblaUeC70VKQFfulrqxC4oAeiRjGqpN0BkPOA6sEyKSILZcjJaUkjxfbGvFq8lgrEu6vZrOc4MUGqU1-uFvofweTdpk/s72-c/IMG_0008.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-383782049389658935</id><published>2011-01-09T19:49:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T12:41:45.281+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Call 1-800-MURDER</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVcYzkRIoJ_ef2ubQLEVSuFsnvvjHKsfY2-5nlFxVG7ah6NZhm_pJu2Jlt37haL6OrXm_o9bWu6nR7cJ8-3MgX7IWLXgZvou_3_YSAGjSeLPxgnXwxn1r3Rm2BLQyc0MYMkLLX6ra0VIl/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVcYzkRIoJ_ef2ubQLEVSuFsnvvjHKsfY2-5nlFxVG7ah6NZhm_pJu2Jlt37haL6OrXm_o9bWu6nR7cJ8-3MgX7IWLXgZvou_3_YSAGjSeLPxgnXwxn1r3Rm2BLQyc0MYMkLLX6ra0VIl/s640/IMG_0001.jpg&quot; width=&quot;460&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;Its 7.30 am. As usual &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; wakes up from his bed. He brushes his teeth and takes a shower. There&#39;s not much to tell about &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt;, he is in his forties, and never had a wife. He is always a routine man and he is quite polite. He doesn&#39;t talk much and have a very few friends. He&amp;nbsp;seldom&amp;nbsp;leaves his apartment except for work. He likes to keep everything to himself. It is just another dull day in the life of &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt;.&amp;nbsp;He put on his clothes and his coat and he&#39;s off to work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;When he got to his car, there was a&amp;nbsp;pamphlet on the wind shield of his car. Some kind of an advertisement for an agency. Without much of a glance he take the pamphlet and tuck it deep into the pocket of his coat. He got in his car and drove it to the place he work. He drove the same road and past the same building for almost 20 years now. Everything was the same, not much have changed except for few new roads and buildings here and there. Nothing change. But today is different for &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt;, for today there is something that would happen to him. He is getting his promotion. There is a new vacancy for a senior officer post as the previous had recently died. This was his chance to make a change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;He arrived to his nice little office. As always his secretary serve him coffee. But he never drink that coffee because it always leave that weird taste in his mouth. His secretary told him to meet the &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt;, his boss. So he off to meet him. Upon walking toward his boss office he tumbled upon &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #ffd966;&quot;&gt;Mr. Lind&lt;/span&gt;, the new uprising star of the company. He just recently started working there. He&#39;s much a people person, and always prefer people to call him &#39;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #ffd966;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt;&#39;. Everyone was so fond of &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #ffd966;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt;, but &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr Smiths&lt;/span&gt; never liked him. He had that dastardly smile that &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; felt uneasy with. So he pass the ever smiling &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #ffd966;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt; without looking at him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Sit down, son&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt; told him. Upon working with the same person for almost 20 years, &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; knew that there something bad that will happen. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright &lt;/span&gt;have this habit in telling bad news to people. It always &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Sit down, son&lt;/span&gt;&quot;, &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Its a nice weather isn&#39;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #38761d;&quot;&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&quot;, &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Have a cigar, son&lt;/span&gt;&quot; and among others. Its his way in for PR, by giving the cake first and then cut it with a sharp knife. This was bad for &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt;, and he knew it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;You have worked here for almost 20 years son&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt; told him. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;You were always a bright kid then&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt; building his speech. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;You always done your duty and always finishes on time. You never ever complaint. I know you did a lot for this company. But...&lt;/span&gt;&quot;. Here it come thought &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt;. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;You don&#39;t have ambition. You never done more than what you&#39;re given. Thats why you never get a promotion. 20 years is along time, son. Its better for you to just worked the way you should have been where you&#39;re comfortable with. Have a nice retirement and than live a comfortable life. You should have a wife. You are now in your forties. And about that promotion....I&#39;m giving it to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt;&quot;. And there it was.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; just kept silent. He leaves &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt; office, and went back to his nice little office. He finishes his work and off to go back home. In the parking lot, he met &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt;. He smiled at him and put his hand upon &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; shoulder. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m sorry man&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt;, and then he leaves him with a smile. Smirking in his car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr Smiths&lt;/span&gt; got into his car and drove home. It was raining hard. He couldn&#39;t even see what in front of him. But Suddenly his car broke down. Without any fuss, he just got off his car and started walking home. The rain was cold on his body. He just walked on as cars passes him by. And finally he got home, all drenched and tired. He sat on his couch. Looking at the television that was not turned on. And then he remembered the pamphlet on his car earlier. He searches through the pocket of his coat, and pull out the pamphlet. The pamphlet says:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Do you have a &amp;nbsp;PROBLEM with someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Do you need to EXTERMINATE that someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Don&#39;t be in TROUBLE anymore...we will HANDLE that PROBLEM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Call us at &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;MURDERLINE&lt;/span&gt; NOW!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;Call 1-800-MURDER&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;Without giving it much of a thought,&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt; Mr. Smith &lt;/span&gt;called that number. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;Hello, Good evening. Murder Line, what can I do to help you sir?&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said the operator. The voice was somewhat strange, as if he was talking inside one&#39;s head. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;I like you to exterminate someone&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr Smiths&lt;/span&gt;. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;Okay sir, would you mind giving the person names, address and workplace sir?&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; gave the details. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;Thank you sir, your request would be done within 24 hours. Have a nice day sir.&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; hung up the phone. He took off his wet clothes, takes a shower and then he&#39;s off to sleep. He sleep deep that night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;Tomorrow morning he goes to work as usual. He took the bus that day as his car had broken yesterday. He arrived at the office but the office had a strange feeling that day. As if someone had died. Everyone looked gloomy. He sat on his chair in his nice little office and then &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright &lt;/span&gt;came in. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Do you heard the news&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr Wright&lt;/span&gt;, but &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; shrugged. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #38761d;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;died last night&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt;. was shocked. Was it because of the phone call he made last night? Did he died because of him. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt; just keep on talking, about how &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt; was a nice person, how great he was and how dearly he will be missed. After he finishes, as Mr. Wright was about to leave his office, &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; asked him about the promotion. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m sorry son, we are still in a state of grief. The post would be vacant until further notice. But you should consider what I said yesterday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #38761d;&quot;&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr smiths&lt;/span&gt; knew he was turned down again and he would never get that promotion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;He finishes his work and got off work earlier that day. All he kept thinking was the phone call he made yesterday did kill &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #f1c232;&quot;&gt;Bob&lt;/span&gt;. If its true, he can kill anyone he wanted. Anyone he never like about and never get blamed. He can change his dull life into anything he wanted. He can change. In the bus, he kept thinking who he should exterminate next.&amp;nbsp;Maybe he should kill all the candidate for the job post.&amp;nbsp;Maybe he should exterminate &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt; for not giving him any&amp;nbsp;opportunity. Maybe he should exterminate his secretary. He knew that she always spit in the coffee she makes for him everyday. He just kept thinking on the person he should terminate until he got home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;At home he pull off a pen and a paper. If the phone call was true, he should try to list down the people he wanted to terminate. The people he didn&#39;t liked. First he started with his secretary name. He really doesn&#39;t like her. Then &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #6aa84f;&quot;&gt;Mr. Wright&lt;/span&gt; name. and then the office boy name, and then his&amp;nbsp;neighbor name. As the night went on, the list gets even longer. Pages upon pages he wrote the names of the people he didn&#39;t liked. what started with a few names became a thousand names or even more. Ranging from the kid next door he didn&#39;t like to the name of the president.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;Morning came in. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths &lt;/span&gt;doesn&#39;t realized that he written all night. The names he came out was quite a lot. Eventhough he was a quiet person, he hate a lot of people. He felt disgusted. He took the phone and started dialing the number. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;Murder Line...how can I help you sir?&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said the strange voice operator. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;I would like to exterminate someone&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; shaking. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;Who would that be sir?&lt;/span&gt;&quot; &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; kept silent for a while, looking at his list there was so many people he wish they were gone. And then he answered, &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;I would like to exterminate all human&lt;/span&gt;&quot;. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;You mean all human sir? Okay sir, your request will be granted. But to the nature of the request, it will take a while. Thank you sir. Have a nice day.&lt;/span&gt;&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; hung up the phone. He kept thinking what have he done. All human? Was it even possible? He didn&#39;t go to work that day. He just sat there on his couch. And then the screaming started. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; heard screaming and crashing everywhere. People were in a state of panic. The screaming gets louder and louder. He didn&#39;t dare checking up what had happen. He just sit there on his couch terrified.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;The screaming ended up for days. He did not turn on his television or do anything. And at the seventh day, the screaming ended. Everything was silent. Did it stopped? Was all human already dead because of him? He thought to himself. And then suddenly there was a knock on the door. He pulls out his courage to open the door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;In front of the door was a man with a black suit. He was bald and his skin was grayish. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;Good morning sir&lt;/span&gt;&quot;. Said the man without moving his lips. His voice was strange as if it echoed inside the brain. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;We have finishes your request sir. To exterminate all human sir. All there is left is you sir. You&#39;re the last human to live in the world sir.&lt;/span&gt;&quot; Mr Smiths was shocked, he didn&#39;t know what to say. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;As you said in your request sir, that you want to exterminate all human. I&#39;m here to exterminate the last human sir, and that is you sir&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said the man.&amp;nbsp;&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;But you can&#39;t! How can you do this! You&#39;re human too!&lt;/span&gt;&quot; said &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Mr. Smiths&lt;/span&gt; panicking. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: magenta;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m sorry sir, I&#39;m not human&lt;/span&gt;&quot;. With that last word...every human in the world was &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;EXTERMINATED&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;The end&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/383782049389658935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/383782049389658935?isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/383782049389658935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/383782049389658935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/call-1-800-murder.html' title='Call 1-800-MURDER'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVcYzkRIoJ_ef2ubQLEVSuFsnvvjHKsfY2-5nlFxVG7ah6NZhm_pJu2Jlt37haL6OrXm_o9bWu6nR7cJ8-3MgX7IWLXgZvou_3_YSAGjSeLPxgnXwxn1r3Rm2BLQyc0MYMkLLX6ra0VIl/s72-c/IMG_0001.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-4425312691321339739</id><published>2011-01-08T08:13:00.018+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T01:23:37.121+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jimmy don&#39;t fly (On the Edge of the World)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_AiURoNv3uTczgUPNXzLzriSZLQEhn-lSvhjJzSzixQhGrlrYjDlJWzGIh1lnoVqV8RCSOEU-ZqswkousMZ-MJMJiaA5YDUUEaesrft_N2ys5QP2Gznpk3WySKL0yulKczUKMcaLM3qeF/s1600/IMG_0002.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_AiURoNv3uTczgUPNXzLzriSZLQEhn-lSvhjJzSzixQhGrlrYjDlJWzGIh1lnoVqV8RCSOEU-ZqswkousMZ-MJMJiaA5YDUUEaesrft_N2ys5QP2Gznpk3WySKL0yulKczUKMcaLM3qeF/s640/IMG_0002.jpg&quot; width=&quot;456&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;What would you do when you lost &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: red;&quot;&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;? What will you do when you lost your hopes and dreams and even your pride? I lost everything when I lost &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Jenny&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Jenny&lt;/span&gt; was&amp;nbsp;everything&amp;nbsp;to me, and now I have lost her. She died in a car &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;accident&lt;/span&gt; about 6 month ago. In about that time I have lost my job and even my apartment. I cant seem to concentrate in anything anymore. All I ever think was only &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Jenny&lt;/span&gt;. Even the picture I took have lost it touch. It is never bright or happy as it did before. The picture of the sky I used to loved to take had become so gloomy all of the sudden. I lost my job about 4 month ago and lost my apartment 2 days ago. I wander aimlessly this past two days...and here I am now on the roof of a fifteen floors building....looking up at the sky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;We use to looked up at the sky, the three of us. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Jenny&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt; John&lt;/span&gt; and me. We are the closest friends there was. The three of us was always together. Dreaming about the sky. Someone told us &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: lime;&quot;&gt;&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;that the sky&#39;s is full of dreams, but we don&#39;t know how to fly&lt;/span&gt;&quot;&lt;/span&gt;. We always wanted to fly higher. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; as a great architect, me a well known photographer and &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Jenny&lt;/span&gt; a top model. She was suppose to model for me...but she never did and never will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Oh &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt;, I didn&#39;t notice you there. What are you doing on the roof of this fifteen floors building? Did you came to see the sky as well? &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt; is saying something to me...but his words doesn&#39;t come to my ears. I guess the wind may have taken the sound elsewhere. Its pretty windy up here. All I can see is &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt; lips moving without any words coming out of it. I cant seem to hear him or the world anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt; looked old and pale. I guess the &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;accident&lt;/span&gt; really affect him as well. After all...you killed her John. She was with you when the &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;accident&lt;/span&gt; happened. You drove so fast there wasn&#39;t anytime to break. You hit a car and now she is dead. But &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt; wasn&#39;t to blame. The night the accident happened &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;Jenny&lt;/span&gt; and I had an argument. And who she seek for comfort. You &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt;...you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;I guess there&#39;s nothing left for me anymore. With a single step, I will fly to the sky. To the dreams we once had. And with that single step, I fall from the roof of the fifteen floors building. I can see &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;John&lt;/span&gt; screaming but I cant hear it. His face grow ever smaller. It took about &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #cc0000;&quot;&gt;95 second&lt;/span&gt; before I hit the ground. But it felt like an eternity. If I had see it earlier, if I had noticed how she felt about him. This wouldn&#39;t never had happen to us. If I took less picture of the sky and more picture of her, I should have saw it. I&#39;m a photographer but my eyes were blind as a bat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red; color: white;&quot;&gt;CRASH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Jimmy&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt; lay motionless on the ground. People started gathering around him. I couldn&#39;t bare to see him anymore. There something I wanted to to tell him. But no matter how hard I try, he cant seem to hear me anymore. There&#39;s something he didn&#39;t know about the night of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;accident&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;. Something I kept secret from him. I was wrong to take her from you. I was wrong to push her into loving me. That night after you had the fight with her, she came to settle things with me. I beg and plead for her to leave you. But she didn&#39;t. She loved you and you alone. I drove fast out of anger and that car came out of nowhere. She died and I lived. I wish I was the one who died that night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;You shouldn&#39;t have done this. You shouldn&#39;t have destroy everything you dream about. If you have taken less pictures of the sky and more pictures of her, you should have noticed. That she loved you so much and wanted you to lived.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;The end&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/4425312691321339739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/4425312691321339739?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/4425312691321339739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/4425312691321339739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/on-edge-of-world.html' title='Jimmy don&#39;t fly (On the Edge of the World)'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_AiURoNv3uTczgUPNXzLzriSZLQEhn-lSvhjJzSzixQhGrlrYjDlJWzGIh1lnoVqV8RCSOEU-ZqswkousMZ-MJMJiaA5YDUUEaesrft_N2ys5QP2Gznpk3WySKL0yulKczUKMcaLM3qeF/s72-c/IMG_0002.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-8811248454062379720</id><published>2011-01-04T07:18:00.012+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T19:31:28.754+08:00</updated><title type='text'>154 days 5 hours 4 minutes 49 seconds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is from the one you left behind. The one you left behind a very very long time ago. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;154 days 4 hour 35 minutes and 49 seconds&lt;/span&gt; ago to be exact. I know because I counted. Not a single moment I didn&#39;t think about you. Not a single place I go that I didn&#39;t see you. Your looks, your movement, the mole under your eye on the left cheek and even your smell have been engrave in my heart. Now the place that have so much meaning in my heart is filled with dark empty holes. The memories that I hold so dearly, the pictures we took together, had been torn apart, deleted from my computer and from my handset. But there you are still, inside my dark and lonely heart. Tormenting me with your sweet little smile.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Move on&lt;/span&gt;&quot; you said. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;If fate brought us again, we may be together&lt;/span&gt;&quot;. Fate? Move on? Why the words you said was so much very different from the words you said 2 years ago. You said that we&#39;ll be together forever, in &amp;nbsp;happiness and sadness we strive to the very end of the world. You promise that&amp;nbsp;your&amp;nbsp;heart will be mine as mine is yours forever. And you hold my hand and kiss me on the cheek. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: orange;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: white;&quot;&gt;I was so happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I just smiled.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But then you left me, without any words or goodbye. Why? I gave you everything, my heart and even my soul. Why? Did I did something wrong? Why? Did our love, our memories doesn&#39;t meant anything to you? Why? Why? Why? Why do I questioned my self eventhough I knew the truth. The truth was clear as the stars that night.&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: purple;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: #741b47; color: #f3f3f3;&quot;&gt;I want forever, you just want today&lt;/span&gt;. A simple hurtful truth. You didn&#39;t left me&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt; 154 days 4 hour 55 minutes 23 seconds&lt;/span&gt; ago, you left me much longer before that. I just didn&#39;t know or rather I know but refuse to&amp;nbsp;acknowledge&amp;nbsp;it. I was a fool back then. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #e06666;&quot;&gt;A fool in love&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvBUyYc-Het04m9n-Ktz55Ts3pPTcAAXjQes9k3UVd5kqXPaQlDqFCzgCpshPp7mPopyrVPXUuVe7DOKw8-T_smn4SdtUlX3Ke6rfdYj7KuCvTi2GllDJYRg8bxBE0X17bkflZlgRNzmb/s1600/IMG.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvBUyYc-Het04m9n-Ktz55Ts3pPTcAAXjQes9k3UVd5kqXPaQlDqFCzgCpshPp7mPopyrVPXUuVe7DOKw8-T_smn4SdtUlX3Ke6rfdYj7KuCvTi2GllDJYRg8bxBE0X17bkflZlgRNzmb/s640/IMG.jpg&quot; width=&quot;473&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
If you are reading this. This is from the one you left behind. It had been more than &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #cc0000;&quot;&gt;154 days 5 hours 4 minutes 49 seconds&lt;/span&gt; since you left me. I had move on. I had left you a long time ago. But recently I met you again. Maybe its time I took you for your word a long time ago. Here I stand behind you with a kitchen knife that feel so cold in my hand. I&#39;m gonna make you keep your promise.&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #cc0000;&quot;&gt; Finally your heart will be mine&lt;/span&gt;. Bloody as it is. Maybe I should keep it in a&amp;nbsp;refrigerator. &lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: white;&quot;&gt;Forever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/8811248454062379720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/8811248454062379720?isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/8811248454062379720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/8811248454062379720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/154-days-5-hours-4-minutes-49-seconds.html' title='154 days 5 hours 4 minutes 49 seconds'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvBUyYc-Het04m9n-Ktz55Ts3pPTcAAXjQes9k3UVd5kqXPaQlDqFCzgCpshPp7mPopyrVPXUuVe7DOKw8-T_smn4SdtUlX3Ke6rfdYj7KuCvTi2GllDJYRg8bxBE0X17bkflZlgRNzmb/s72-c/IMG.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-2646107743453142623</id><published>2011-01-02T00:41:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T23:49:18.989+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead under the stars</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQNXUneZO8bB2e_X-XrsEg9budX0KfaCfs79MlPFc-PwrbKV9ddtfhmGuOnamEqcy7F4LZWz4k-ZqKpT8G-T0DbrR8GrrGRgKKKN1Uk_IXmpTQpPd5savNqFtOg_oClww_6Pn22iVy_74/s1600/IMG_0002-1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;366&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQNXUneZO8bB2e_X-XrsEg9budX0KfaCfs79MlPFc-PwrbKV9ddtfhmGuOnamEqcy7F4LZWz4k-ZqKpT8G-T0DbrR8GrrGRgKKKN1Uk_IXmpTQpPd5savNqFtOg_oClww_6Pn22iVy_74/s400/IMG_0002-1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;twinkle twinkle little star&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;how i wonder how dead you are&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;up in the sky so high&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;why don&#39;t you fall down and kill us all&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;twinkle twinkle little star&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;how i wonder how dead we are&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/2646107743453142623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/2646107743453142623?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/2646107743453142623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/2646107743453142623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/dead-under-stars.html' title='Dead under the stars'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQNXUneZO8bB2e_X-XrsEg9budX0KfaCfs79MlPFc-PwrbKV9ddtfhmGuOnamEqcy7F4LZWz4k-ZqKpT8G-T0DbrR8GrrGRgKKKN1Uk_IXmpTQpPd5savNqFtOg_oClww_6Pn22iVy_74/s72-c/IMG_0002-1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-7386713630385201717</id><published>2011-01-02T00:33:00.016+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T20:45:12.575+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fear</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Fear, is a thought that frighten the minds. A thought that make the mind to imagine something that wasn’t even there. A horror made of nothing. A thought that made the strongest man stumbled shaking his knee. Everyone has something to fear, for everyone is scared of something. Some people are scared of high places, some people are scared to die and some people are scared of living. Everyone has something to fear and so do &lt;st1:place w:st=&quot;on&quot;&gt;I.&lt;/st1:place&gt; but my fear was not the same as any ordinary man. I do not fear death, I enjoyed living and I loved the sensation between life and death. For I feared nothing and that is my fear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Through the seven seas and through the seven continent of the world I ventured in search of my one and absolute fear. In every different place I go and every different faces I met showed me their fear. But I still felt nothing. Every single fears and horrors that could make a man frighten to his death I have tried. Every stories and places of unimagined horror I have heard and gone to. Every war and every kind of death I have seen. Still my heart doesn’t ache by these things. I felt empty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I travel the world in search of my fear. But then I realized, what is ‘fear’ really meant? For I never had anything to fear, how can I know fear. I questioned myself. To know fear is to understand fear. So with the search continued, I carry on also with a question hoping to find its answer. I asked everyone whom I met in my travels, what is fear? But none of them could give the perfect answer to my question. No one knew what fear is but why they are still scared of it. They know there’s nothing in the shadow but why is man still scared of the unseen?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MiTN4N4JHxqiHDut8m0AvAkJlbOQLSPc7T7YBB8VQKiuA1-p10cKg2nPot3U7abwm9DTduecZM5TdnKVdynGAMLjeOg6270ksnl_4aVUcslf3vcc3vFXH3zTgftmn5eJE2k7hCfYsr3b/s1600/the+fear.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MiTN4N4JHxqiHDut8m0AvAkJlbOQLSPc7T7YBB8VQKiuA1-p10cKg2nPot3U7abwm9DTduecZM5TdnKVdynGAMLjeOg6270ksnl_4aVUcslf3vcc3vFXH3zTgftmn5eJE2k7hCfYsr3b/s640/the+fear.jpg&quot; width=&quot;568&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Finally almost half of my life spent on the fruitless search of fear and the answer to my question, I stumbled in a remote village far on the outskirt of the world. All my travel had taken a toll in my body. I was left very tired and very much old then when I started this journey. I thought to myself that it is useless for me to continue anymore. I will end my life here waiting for death to crawl into me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;It was longer than I had expected. I’m still alive. I’m frail and old but I’m still alive. I wait and wait for death, but still it doesn’t come to me. I given up hope and in my heart I laughed. I was immortal. Even death feared me. Shouting to the air to nothing I mocked the god. Cursed word comes out from my mouth. I shouted until I was out of breath. Gasping for air I stumbled to my knees. But suddenly a boy came out from nowhere. His skin was blacker than anything I had ever seen in my life. I can’t see if he was wearing anything.&amp;nbsp; But all I can see on his body was blackness. His eye was jet black and he looked straight at me. “Hello” I said to him. And in the effort of mockery to him or to my own life I supposed, I asked him the question that I had carried throughout my life. What is fear? The boy was silent for a moment and then he said;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt; “Fear is you. Fear is the world. Fear is the life you had wasted. Fear the god who had created you for you will receive the life of eternal in his grasp. Eternal torment of the fear you seek”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-US&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;All my life I have been searching for fear. And know I have found it. It wasn’t what I had expected. But it was the truth. I had wasted my life for the most worthless things. And now I feared I haven’t the time to redeem my self for my time is up. The boy was death in disguise. I tasted the fear and I didn’t like it at all….the end.&lt;i&gt; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/7386713630385201717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/7386713630385201717?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/7386713630385201717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/7386713630385201717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/fear.html' title='The Fear'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MiTN4N4JHxqiHDut8m0AvAkJlbOQLSPc7T7YBB8VQKiuA1-p10cKg2nPot3U7abwm9DTduecZM5TdnKVdynGAMLjeOg6270ksnl_4aVUcslf3vcc3vFXH3zTgftmn5eJE2k7hCfYsr3b/s72-c/the+fear.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-805433764004452969</id><published>2011-01-02T00:20:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T02:54:48.968+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is a Killer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEips1uo98ueFoeID1NFlkhUvhzpsYvVTKYPDGh7FETxjPDZ-FGhlOivL2UpssMdox_wVQrvtwp2vZZ1MpnQxVAn9F0pfjQMhtnncAZSIb3WX9-TxrIbLGR3Uq715tx5X3dPI2s2LMhZ0sF7/s1600/love+is+a+killer.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEips1uo98ueFoeID1NFlkhUvhzpsYvVTKYPDGh7FETxjPDZ-FGhlOivL2UpssMdox_wVQrvtwp2vZZ1MpnQxVAn9F0pfjQMhtnncAZSIb3WX9-TxrIbLGR3Uq715tx5X3dPI2s2LMhZ0sF7/s640/love+is+a+killer.jpg&quot; width=&quot;460&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Do you believe in soul mate? The term soul mate was first brought up by Plato. He said&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt; that humans originally consisted of four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces, but&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;Zeus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;feared their power and split them all in half, condemning them to spend their lives searching for the other half to complete&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;. Well it’s not really true or does it really sound romantic. Two faces, four arms is kind of weird right. But the point is we human are always in search for another...to have affection and to be loved. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;Do you ever have that feeling when you met somebody that you feel connected? You know what makes her happy. You know when she needed you. You know the time that she just needed to be left alone. Or the time she was hungry and wants to eat. So you’ll hang out and eat together. You laugh, you cry and you hold on to each other because you know deep in your heart that she would never hurt you and you’ll never hurt her. And maybe you loved her. Maybe she loved you. Or maybe you both loved each other. But you can never be together. She is just a normal simple girl, but you are...a killer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;She paints the sky with pale blue colours. You paint the wall with red chunky blood. She bakes cakes and cookies. You bash people’s head with a stick. She finds penguins and kitten cute. You cut people’s fingers just to amuse you. Two people with two different lives, how can fate be so twisted. But here you’re bleeding to your death, with a hole in your gut. And there she was, holding you tightly for the last time. As if to never let you go. Both of you know that eventhough you and her are worlds apart, both of you can’t lived without each other. Maybe you’ll do her a favour, by putting the gun in your hand to her head and pulling the trigger. After all both of you are soulmate.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/805433764004452969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/805433764004452969?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/805433764004452969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/805433764004452969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/love-is-killer.html' title='Love is a Killer'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEips1uo98ueFoeID1NFlkhUvhzpsYvVTKYPDGh7FETxjPDZ-FGhlOivL2UpssMdox_wVQrvtwp2vZZ1MpnQxVAn9F0pfjQMhtnncAZSIb3WX9-TxrIbLGR3Uq715tx5X3dPI2s2LMhZ0sF7/s72-c/love+is+a+killer.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-8995803442901620428</id><published>2011-01-02T00:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T11:52:45.119+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flesh are fake, bones are real</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRNBd-VypPk_lGVz8HA6n0a5_F5d4Z5IWJJlKeV7zgTx8Xe-ZQ9aesPwlfanPTE00JoBZeblHFByRij2IaLHDnZg5QxRUAx6m6WrhQtRrJLuUUgr-PbU2K1sBLjX_QVRMzMbLJNkp8S4Q/s1600/flesh+are+fake%252C+bones+are+real.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRNBd-VypPk_lGVz8HA6n0a5_F5d4Z5IWJJlKeV7zgTx8Xe-ZQ9aesPwlfanPTE00JoBZeblHFByRij2IaLHDnZg5QxRUAx6m6WrhQtRrJLuUUgr-PbU2K1sBLjX_QVRMzMbLJNkp8S4Q/s400/flesh+are+fake%252C+bones+are+real.jpg&quot; width=&quot;276&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;It takes &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;43 muscles in your face to frown and it takes 17 muscles just to smile. But it only takes one face to lie. And that is yours. You can smile and you can frown. But only you know how fake that is. There are a total of 12 general faces you can make. Including sad face, happy face, puppy eyes face and etc....but which one is truly yours that came straight from the heart? How can you be sure that the happy face you put on is just another mask to hide your true self? Can you be sure that the sadistic, dark feeling you have in your heart is not the real you? The flesh of your face can hide so many things. Lies don’t come from just the words you use. It came first from the face your wear. You may think that you are sincere in with your life and to everyone around you. But everything you do is just a big lie. You just didn’t know it or refuse to acknowledge it. You put on faces to please your boss. You fake up a smile to make sure that your customer is satisfied. You even fake your tears to make people believe in your lies. Lies upon lies. So what is real you ask? Bones. That’s right...bones. The fleshy meat thing that you wear on your face is just a mask. Bones are real. They can’t make any expression nor are they able to tell any lies. Well the dead can’t tell no lies...right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/8995803442901620428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/8995803442901620428?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/8995803442901620428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/8995803442901620428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2011/01/flesh-are-fake-bones-are-real.html' title='Flesh are fake, bones are real'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRNBd-VypPk_lGVz8HA6n0a5_F5d4Z5IWJJlKeV7zgTx8Xe-ZQ9aesPwlfanPTE00JoBZeblHFByRij2IaLHDnZg5QxRUAx6m6WrhQtRrJLuUUgr-PbU2K1sBLjX_QVRMzMbLJNkp8S4Q/s72-c/flesh+are+fake%252C+bones+are+real.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2939341983966350420.post-3843617229925340025</id><published>2010-12-31T15:46:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T21:39:57.934+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A 500 words story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: blue; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;A sad story about me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW-EoI2ZyEHF-Ix00UA3L5Ao4InWnirafA0lXFdKB2mufYFnJKmddQe3dzAQCuvMvYxzbB9oeX5BXnfrZjU3lW5W0zZVPtpIC451KG_jCzGpfgvMJgSTV2VSh9FiGjtgn8UmjwBp08I1c/s1600/a+500+words+story.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW-EoI2ZyEHF-Ix00UA3L5Ao4InWnirafA0lXFdKB2mufYFnJKmddQe3dzAQCuvMvYxzbB9oeX5BXnfrZjU3lW5W0zZVPtpIC451KG_jCzGpfgvMJgSTV2VSh9FiGjtgn8UmjwBp08I1c/s640/a+500+words+story.jpg&quot; width=&quot;520&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;m:smallfrac m:val=&quot;off&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:dispdef&gt;    &lt;m:lmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:rmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:defjc m:val=&quot;centerGroup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:wrapindent m:val=&quot;1440&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:intlim m:val=&quot;subSup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:narylim m:val=&quot;undOvr&quot;&gt;   &lt;/m:narylim&gt;&lt;/m:intlim&gt; &lt;/m:wrapindent&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-MY&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I want to write a 500 words story. Well it’s not much of a story. But it’s made up of &amp;nbsp;500 words. I don’t know what I’ll write about. Maybe I’ll write about love, tragedy, drama or maybe a combination of them. It may not appeal others or to public community but to those who have the same interest as me would find it a little amusing. Well, people who have a dark twisted mind I guess. Personally I don’t think I’m too weird as they say I am. I’m practically a healthy normal person in his early twenties as I write this story. Like any other people I have too much fast food and soft drinks and not really into sports. I don’t go out much and I’m into dark literature and video games. And also I have this love for skulls and dark clothes. Its normal right? My life is a dull one I guess. Not much of a do-it-in-the-moment kind of guy. I’m just a do-nothing kind of a guy. ‘Don’t trouble anyone and don’t trouble yourself’ was always my motto. Stayed in the back in the shadows, listening to others and pretending not to care, but somehow...life always pushes me into the front.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-MY&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/m:defjc&gt;&lt;/m:rmargin&gt;&lt;/m:lmargin&gt;&lt;/m:dispdef&gt;&lt;/m:smallfrac&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-MY&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-MY&quot;&gt;Well people who have the letter ‘A’ in front of his name will always be called first right. Maybe this was a sick joke my parent put on me so that I always come out to become first in anything. Well so much for that. But I can’t really blame them they did the best they could. Like any loving-hate-broken-fake family parent would do...they wish the best for their children. Not to be like them of course. If &amp;nbsp;I were a single child maybe they would love me more instead. But I’m not. I’m the last. People tend to say that the last child of a family would be loved more, but not me. I stayed in the dark. It’s not like they abandon me or anything. It’s just for me its better this way. Alone in my dark little world. It’s a little bit sad isn’t it? But it’s just life...my life to be exact. There’s no suspense or thriller, it’s just life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;m:smallfrac m:val=&quot;off&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:dispdef&gt;    &lt;m:lmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:rmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:defjc m:val=&quot;centerGroup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:wrapindent m:val=&quot;1440&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:intlim m:val=&quot;subSup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:narylim m:val=&quot;undOvr&quot;&gt;   &lt;/m:narylim&gt;&lt;/m:intlim&gt; &lt;/m:wrapindent&gt;  &lt;/m:defjc&gt;&lt;/m:rmargin&gt;&lt;/m:lmargin&gt;&lt;/m:dispdef&gt;&lt;/m:smallfrac&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;m:smallfrac m:val=&quot;off&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:dispdef&gt;    &lt;m:lmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:rmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:defjc m:val=&quot;centerGroup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:wrapindent m:val=&quot;1440&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:intlim m:val=&quot;subSup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:narylim m:val=&quot;undOvr&quot;&gt;   &lt;/m:narylim&gt;&lt;/m:intlim&gt; &lt;/m:wrapindent&gt;  &lt;/m:defjc&gt;&lt;/m:rmargin&gt;&lt;/m:lmargin&gt;&lt;/m:dispdef&gt;&lt;/m:smallfrac&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-MY&quot;&gt;Well here am I rambling about thing about my life so that the words I write in this story reach 500. I don’t think that my life can be in any concern of yours...but it’s nice to share it with someone. Maybe I don’t know the person who’ll read it. But it’s kind of nice to have someone read what you wrote and comments about it even though what’s written isn’t some kind of a masterpiece that will win any reward. I’m pretty much not a writer nor am I pretty much good at it. What I write is mostly made of nonsense in my mind. After two sentences after this sentence finish, I reach my 500 words mark. You don’t believe it? Just count it yourselves. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;m:smallfrac m:val=&quot;off&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:dispdef&gt;    &lt;m:lmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:rmargin m:val=&quot;0&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:defjc m:val=&quot;centerGroup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:wrapindent m:val=&quot;1440&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:intlim m:val=&quot;subSup&quot;&gt;    &lt;m:narylim m:val=&quot;undOvr&quot;&gt;   &lt;/m:narylim&gt;&lt;/m:intlim&gt; &lt;/m:wrapindent&gt;  &lt;/m:defjc&gt;&lt;/m:rmargin&gt;&lt;/m:lmargin&gt;&lt;/m:dispdef&gt;&lt;/m:smallfrac&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/feeds/3843617229925340025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2939341983966350420/3843617229925340025?isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/3843617229925340025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2939341983966350420/posts/default/3843617229925340025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heliconiussaraa.blogspot.com/2010/12/500-words-story.html' title='A 500 words story'/><author><name>AmriGloomySunday</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13477453078354404981</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONrzk6rMmAgnUsIEmOWlup15lnABh3dZNj4WSEEBwcrOKnSPcWhpxLiLe3TVpKqh1pgutgjQq7Wa9pZ71VfFxrVNOoagVyAp-e4sP_hyXkcAOi5_7sqqwUWBhhgMDSw/s220/smile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW-EoI2ZyEHF-Ix00UA3L5Ao4InWnirafA0lXFdKB2mufYFnJKmddQe3dzAQCuvMvYxzbB9oeX5BXnfrZjU3lW5W0zZVPtpIC451KG_jCzGpfgvMJgSTV2VSh9FiGjtgn8UmjwBp08I1c/s72-c/a+500+words+story.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>