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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4BRXg4fCp7ImA9WhRVE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557</id><updated>2012-01-12T05:12:34.634+02:00</updated><category term="un nou inceput" /><category term="fericire" /><category term="luv and heppines" /><category term="still present" /><category term="cu toate ca e inca iarna" /><category term="miroase a tei" /><category term="still absent" /><category term="hello sun" /><category term="no R." /><category term="hepi birthday 2 me" /><category term="noi2" /><category term="dorinte" /><category term="dor de mare" /><category term="A." /><category term="bazdaganie" /><category term="cine sunt? cine esti?" /><category term="mama" /><category term="eu/ voi" /><category term="the end" /><category term="lies" /><category term="iarna" /><category term="Monkey" /><category term="melancolie acuta :)" /><category term="zorkie" /><category term="e o zi de primavara" /><category term="autor prost" /><category term="simt linistea ta in nelinistea mea" /><category term="lost" /><category term="dor" /><category term="ultima rata" /><category term="you make me smile" /><category term="wake me up when september comes" /><category term="prieteni" /><category term="my class" /><category term="iubire" /><category term="red hair" /><category term="pitic" /><category term="milk and coffee" /><category term="Craciun" /><category term="indiferenta" /><category term="coffee and tea" /><category term="leapsa" /><category term="tox" /><category term="20" /><category term="coffee" /><category term="fulgi" /><category term="uit" /><category term="e inca lumina" /><category term="R." /><category term="no coffee" /><category term="o alta zi ca multe ce vor mai fi" /><category term="love" /><category term="trairi" /><category term="vama" /><category term="ea si cei ce o ranesc" /><category term="eu tu el" /><title>Prea mult trecut, putin prezent, niciun viitor</title><subtitle type="html">"Nu poti avea un maine mai bun daca te tot gandesti la ieri."

               Charles Franklin Kettering</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>65</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/FericireInRate" /><feedburner:info uri="fericireinrate" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYGRX85eSp7ImA9WhZRF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-3053312831790831423</id><published>2011-04-13T19:30:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T19:45:24.121+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-13T19:45:24.121+03:00</app:edited><title>Depresie de primăvară?</title><content type="html">Ne-am strâns, ne-am adunat și am format cupluri. Două. Urlă pisica, știu sigur că nu e o exprimare corectă, dar sigur nu face ca o pisică normală. Are și ea niște nevoi. Și cu odată cu manifestarea nevoilor ei, eu îmi arpind o țigară, urlând, de asemenea, un mare ȘIT. Dar ea nu tace... Am inceput să bem, să înghesuim garsoniera în fum de țigară și râsete. Pe la miezul nopții am adormit. Sau mai mult am vrut să cred că pot face asta. M-am trezit pe la șase, asta după ce mă mai trezisem de vreo douăzeci de ori. Am aprins televizorul. Pe la 7 m-am apucat de facut cafea si sandwich-uri. S-a trezit și el și la opt jumate a pornit-o spre muncă. Mă simțeam oarecum mahmură și nici nu mă gândeam că voi adormi în curând. La universitate am văzut o carte care mi-a plăcut extrem- &lt;em&gt;Invitație la vals. &lt;/em&gt;Nu am mai apucat să întreb cât costă pentru că a și ajuns 69 în stație. Și, într-un final, iată-mă din nou acasă. Între timp, de la vreme, m-a apucat o mică depresie. Mi-am luat o pungă cu floricele și m-am pus la un film... &lt;em&gt;Last night &lt;/em&gt;se numește. Și mi-am pus apoi zeci de întrebări... Oare atunci când omul înșală, se gândește cât de îngrozitor ar fi să afle că este înșelat?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-3053312831790831423?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vAS2THgF07FvdeHSlAp1uHs15l0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vAS2THgF07FvdeHSlAp1uHs15l0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/OePIFu0HJAs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/3053312831790831423/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=3053312831790831423&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3053312831790831423?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3053312831790831423?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/OePIFu0HJAs/depresie-de-primavara.html" title="Depresie de primăvară?" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2011/04/depresie-de-primavara.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04ASXk5eip7ImA9Wx9bFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-777750242605454962</id><published>2011-02-23T11:34:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:12:28.722+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-23T12:12:28.722+02:00</app:edited><title>Suflet fara chei</title><content type="html">Se trezeste in fiecare dimineata cat mai tarziu posibil. Si-ar dori sa prinda primele ore ale diminetii, insa e atrasa foarte tare de ceea ce viseaza. In dimineata asta a visat ca era la mare cu cineva inalt din trecut. Ceea ce era ciudat e ca se intelegeau la fel de bine ca la inceput. Ea ii spunea ca nu s-a simtit niciodata atat de bine la mare cu cineva. Si ceea e era oarecum ciudat e ca se simtea normal, se simtea libera, binedispusa. Si era vara. Asta explica multe. Vara pana si oamenii prind viata!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ea se simte lipsita de viata, dar in adancul sufletului ei se simte atat de libera. Sta sa iasa sufletul din ea, dar intampina o piedica. Totusi mai exista ceva ce inca nu intelege: de ce nu mai traieste cu atata intensitate cum traia odata? Sa fi trecut vremurile alea? Mi-as dori foarte mult sa ajut aceasta persoana sa scape de tot ceea ce nu o lasa sa fie ea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu vrea nimeni sa ii elibereze sufletul? Eee, poate cand o veni primavara se va intoarce si ea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KX9w19fRjxM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-777750242605454962?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kuUxYwtfTPg70Jw3_uhptly6ASI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kuUxYwtfTPg70Jw3_uhptly6ASI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/IxR-49gLjx0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/777750242605454962/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=777750242605454962&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/777750242605454962?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/777750242605454962?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/IxR-49gLjx0/suflet-fara-chei.html" title="Suflet fara chei" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/KX9w19fRjxM/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2011/02/suflet-fara-chei.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQER3szfip7ImA9Wx5QGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-3166514397148128624</id><published>2010-09-07T20:41:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T20:58:26.586+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-07T20:58:26.586+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><title>Unu- invatam sa numaram</title><content type="html">In curand 11 septembrie... 1 an de viata in doi, un 1 de iubire. Unele lucruri s-au spulberat pe 11 septembrie, altele se consolideaza.&lt;br /&gt;Anul trecut, mai mult sau mai putin, pe vremea asta  iti faceam ochi dulci, iti zambeam frumos si iti observam ochisorii albastri.&lt;br /&gt;Am venit la tine... tii minte seara aia? iti plimbai degetele pe spatele meu, ma sarutai rusinos si imi pareai atat de inocent. Mai tarziu, chiar aproape de dimineata, m-au apucat frisoanele. Mi-ai imprumutat niste haine de-ale tale si te-ai dus sa imi faci un coldrex. Ai fost asa de dulce... si m-ai tinut in brate pana mi s-a facut cald.&lt;br /&gt;Si acela a fost inceputul.&lt;br /&gt;Te iubesc, azi mai mult ca oricand si imi este dor de tine, desi ai plecat de dimineata. Iub, nu imi doresc decat sa trecem impreuna cu bine peste toate, sa ne iubim si sa ne respectam zilnic si sa ma suporti cu toti piticii mei. :) Si ai grija, ca nu sunt Alba-ca-zapada, am mai multi de 7. :)&lt;br /&gt;Te astept sa vii ca si cand numai dragostea noastra ar fi pe pamant. :*&lt;br /&gt;La multi ani de iubire! Acum invatam sa numaram : 1!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-3166514397148128624?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nl1ca77dxIzo13M1zIm86UmSkAg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nl1ca77dxIzo13M1zIm86UmSkAg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/y4rhZA_HoIc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/3166514397148128624/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=3166514397148128624&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3166514397148128624?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3166514397148128624?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/y4rhZA_HoIc/unu-invatam-sa-numaram.html" title="Unu- invatam sa numaram" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2010/09/unu-invatam-sa-numaram.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAGQ3g8fSp7ImA9Wx5TE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-4969558434861172556</id><published>2010-07-28T19:44:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T20:05:22.675+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-28T20:05:22.675+03:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Oamenii gresesc adeseori, unii par a se fi nascut pentru asta, altii o fac fara intentie, , altii... doar nu se gandesc la consecinte.&lt;br /&gt;Unii oameni gresesc si doar pentru a avea mai multa libertate, desi.. vor plati putin timp pentru asta, poate putin mai mult.&lt;br /&gt;De cateva luni s-au schimbat multe... doua job-uri, locuitul in doi, locuitul cu alte doua persoane. s-a pus problema vanzarii a ceva ce pastreaza multe amintiri si inceputul sau continuarea unei perioade mai putin buna.&lt;br /&gt;Putine cuvinte, multe sentimente de regret, de dorinta, intr-un alt fel, o proasta exprimare si o persoana nemultumita, care sunt eu.&lt;br /&gt;dar totusi, vorba aceea, se intampla lucruri care n-ar trebui sa se intample. as vrea doar sa treaca mai repede. Se poate? Am gandurile pline de griji, ma simt impovarata de treburile astea care nu se mai termina si inca ma intreb de ce pentru unii nu inseamna nimic cuvantul &lt;em&gt;familie.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma simt dezamagita de multe persoane, persoane pe care le-am ajutat, persoane cu care am fost intelegatoare... gresesc doar! nu stiu sa recunoasca un ajutor. E trist!&lt;br /&gt;Stau singura si astept sa vina cu o hotarare, sa imi spuna ca nu a fost nimic altceva decat o gluma si ca putem trece peste ea fara sa suferim schimbari M-am saturat pana si de schimbarea asta!&lt;br /&gt;Ma simt ca intr-o drama... si am doar 21 ani. Vreau sa vina intunericul, sa treaca noaptea, apoi sa treaca ziua si sa tot dorm. Sa traiesc intr-o alta lume, poate una mai buna.&lt;br /&gt;Ce bine ar fi sa fiu oar copil. As bate mingea toata ziua, asa cum fac copiii din fata blocului in care ma aflu.&lt;br /&gt;Zac in pat si imi arunc ochii la fel si fel de filme, asteptand sa se intample si ceva frumos nu ma simt ok niciunde, nici acasa, nici aici... nicaieri. Nu mai am nici tigari, macar imi mai varsam tristetea pe un filtru si trageam cu sete din el, nu merge nici telecomanda, nu se spala singure nici vasele din chiuveta si nu e nimeni sa imi faca o cafea acum. te astept, stii! Doar vino mai repede, ma tem ca nu mai sunt in stare sa te astept...&lt;br /&gt;M-am plictisit sa scriu, dar nu vad ce as putea sa fac, totusi...&lt;br /&gt;See you next time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-4969558434861172556?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PqKM9HI_FDnMye380OcH8WTG2y8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PqKM9HI_FDnMye380OcH8WTG2y8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/UFkqzD15t-o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/4969558434861172556/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=4969558434861172556&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/4969558434861172556?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/4969558434861172556?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/UFkqzD15t-o/oamenii-gresesc-adeseori-unii-par-se-fi.html" title="" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2010/07/oamenii-gresesc-adeseori-unii-par-se-fi.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04CQX04cSp7ImA9WxFSEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-3322691820791553124</id><published>2010-04-14T21:56:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T22:06:00.339+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-14T22:06:00.339+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vama" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="noi2" /><title>obisnuit</title><content type="html">Stateam pe facebook, stateam e cam mult spus... am intrat sa caut nush ce mondenitati ;) si am dat peste un om intitulat "Nopti de vama". Are niste poze de te apuca dorul de mare si de vama si mai mult, mai ales daca te leaga niste sentimente de ea.&lt;br /&gt;  Mi s-a facut iar dor de vara... si mereu fac la fel... cand e iarna plang vara pana vin, apoi ma plang de cald... si cand e vara spre toamna imi doresc sa vina iarna si sa ninga.&lt;br /&gt; E cam greu si cu mine.&lt;br /&gt;  Si spuneam de tipul asta care a scris "Nopti de vama", ba nu... am uitat sa specific si asta... mi se pare ceva frumos si oarecum spectaculos sa scrii o carte, sa pictezi un tablou, sa ai un talent... eu nu cred ca am vreunul. :))&lt;br /&gt; Si da, tot sunt geloasa pe ea ca putea sa picteze, chiar daca nu ti-am spus. Ma bucur macar ca te acompaniez la karaoke :)&lt;br /&gt;  Stiu ca esti nervos ca ia bataie Dinamo, dar ce sa faci? Tot niste caini raman !:D Poate te controlezi totusi si nu iti pica piticii pe mine. Imi doresc sa imi gasesc ceva de munca si sa avem bani si sa plecam in delta macar o saptamana, chiar si amandoi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te iubesc, Alexutz!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-3322691820791553124?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nop6FyN4vhCmESB0vayrvHBWl1M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nop6FyN4vhCmESB0vayrvHBWl1M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/UOEHfm2uWg8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/3322691820791553124/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=3322691820791553124&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3322691820791553124?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3322691820791553124?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/UOEHfm2uWg8/obisnuit.html" title="obisnuit" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2010/04/obisnuit.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkABQXszcCp7ImA9WxBbFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-97578110780375287</id><published>2010-03-14T14:34:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T14:45:50.588+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-14T14:45:50.588+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dor de mare" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><title>Cu mainile incrucisate</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/S5zaB1xZyrI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/GOmb154YOj0/s1600-h/DSCF3659.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448469374360472242" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/S5zaB1xZyrI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/GOmb154YOj0/s320/DSCF3659.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mi-e dor de mare! de vara, de soare, pantaloni scurti, terase, plecari din cluburi la 7 dimineata. ehe! ce amintiri!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;asta e unul din motivele pentru care astept vara, mai ales ca o voi petrece cu domnul A. .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aseara am fost in Alter Ego. A fost ziua lui, am baut, am fumat, am privit gagici dansatoare, mai mult curve decat dansatoare. L-am vazut pe el, mai fidel decat ar putea sa fie un om... ea dansa provocator langa el, in timp ce el statea pe scaun cu mainile incrucisate. ii faceam semne cum ca ar fi ok sa schiteze un semn. nimic!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;omul meu s-a ridicat, a luat-o de mana si a inceput sa danseze rap :))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;he he, mai aiurea e ca gagica incerca sa faca aceiasi pasi ca el, dar nu i-a iesit nimic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;l-am pupat si mi-am zis: "Asta e baiatul meu."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Si, da, sunt mandra de el si il iubesc! Cum sa nu il iubesti cand e un scump, cu ochi albastri si gropita in partea dreapta? hm? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Doar zambesc!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;hai sa asteptam vara in ritm de punk, rock, ska, balade, cantece de munte si cu iubire in suflet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;te iubesc, gogoshel!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-97578110780375287?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KWNeUYiP0DlHps7YW7E5g8_KSAY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KWNeUYiP0DlHps7YW7E5g8_KSAY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/vkr8cHbUr68" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/97578110780375287/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=97578110780375287&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/97578110780375287?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/97578110780375287?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/vkr8cHbUr68/cu-mainile-incrucisate.html" title="Cu mainile incrucisate" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/S5zaB1xZyrI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/GOmb154YOj0/s72-c/DSCF3659.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2010/03/cu-mainile-incrucisate.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMNR3cyeyp7ImA9WxBUGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-6272190620980224789</id><published>2010-03-06T19:19:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T19:44:56.993+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-06T19:44:56.993+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="melancolie acuta :)" /><title>Lucruri imposibile?</title><content type="html">Sunt si eu un om ca toti ceilalti, am defecte, poate mai multe decat calitati, am reactii atat normale, cat si mai putin normale, am melodii de suflet, zambesc, plang! SIMT! &lt;div&gt;Si incerc adesea sa par dura sau insensibila, dar ma doare tare... ranesc enorm si cuvintele, mai ales cele rastite. Avem pretentia adesea, fiind femeie, la mai mult respect si poate daca nu il primim in totalitate, ne dorim un "iarta-ma", fie el si prea tarziu. Un "stiu ca am gresit" poate schimba intreaga zi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ma gandesc ca sunt o persoana dificila, incapatanata, dar ti-ai asumat un risc atunci cand m-ai luat acasa, nu acelasi pe care si l-a asumat si mama cand a intrat pe poarta prima data cu mine. Poate ca ar trebui sa iti dai seama ca ranesti mult si ca nu sunt o piatra... nici macar nu ma simt asa... poate ca ai putea sa imi zambesti cand tip la tine. Iti spun sincer, as regreta tare mult ca am facut-o, vazandu-ti gropita din partea dreapta a gurii. Dar nu stii! E cam mult orgoliu in tine, nu stii sa cedezi. Cum e dragostea ta? Sa stii ca dragostea ta doare! Dragostea ta vibreaza si nu mereu ca &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;o coarda de chitara... uneori o faci ca un telefon care suna in timp ce faci dragoste.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cred ca sunt un om sufletist si ca imi poti demonstra in sute de feluri cum gresesc, nu neaparat ridicand tonul la mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;De cateva seri visez biserici, multi oameni in biserica, un copil cunoascut mie... lumanari aprinse... poate si pentru ca a trecut cam mult timp de cand n-am mai intrat in biserica... si imi pare rau... ma port de parca ma retine ceva. Dar sa stii ca Te am in suflet, Doamne!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Imi rod unghiile si mi-as dori o tigara mai mult decat orice... ba nu, imi doresc mai tare sa o vad pe mama... mereu am nevoie de ea cand sufar catusi de putin... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ma simt cam ciudat si vreau sa cred ca e de la vremea asta prea schimbatoare. Si tu sa nu ma mai ameninti cu tot felul de chestii ca nu rezolvi nimic, ba chiar ma faci sa ma simt mai aiurea si sa iti spun mai multe lucruri urate! Ti-am zis de atatea ori ca ma faci sa cedez extraordinar de repede cu un zambet. Poate intr-o zi o sa tii cont de asta. Pana atunci mai traim, mai vedem! Oricum stiu ca nu cer lucruri imposibile :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-6272190620980224789?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NQn6Yo9RVTh4otuChCr00UIRysY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NQn6Yo9RVTh4otuChCr00UIRysY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/PY0Prj3ZVvY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/6272190620980224789/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=6272190620980224789&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/6272190620980224789?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/6272190620980224789?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/PY0Prj3ZVvY/lucruri-imposibile.html" title="Lucruri imposibile?" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2010/03/lucruri-imposibile.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEFRXk7fip7ImA9WxBQE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-3803746642310167552</id><published>2010-01-13T14:40:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:00:14.706+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-13T15:00:14.706+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mama" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="20" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><title>20 ani</title><content type="html">S-a nascut intr-o noapte de 8 spre 9 iunie, mai precis la ora 23:50, dar in certificat a fost trecuta ziua de 9. Primul copil intr-o familie tanara, o mama de 2o ani si un tata de 23. Prima nepoata pentru bunicii din partea mamei!&lt;br /&gt;  Era ultimul an de comunism, nu atat de rau pe cat au povestit si povestesc multi. Nu a fost un copil atat de dorit de mama, aceasta fiind prea tanara si considerandu-se "un copil cu copil", asa cum spune ea, dar mult preaiubit in prezent!&lt;br /&gt;Prima iubire descoperita de acest copil a fost cea materna si paterna! A aparut mai tarziu cea pentru bunici, in special pentru bunica alaturi de care statea cat timp parintii erau la serviciu!&lt;br /&gt; Cu 3 ani mai tarziu a descoperit si iubirea fata de frate, desi era marginita de gelozie din cauza atentiei sporite asupra celui mic.&lt;br /&gt; De-a lungul a 9 ani a fost o fire bolnavicioasa... anemica, mancandu-i orele din noapte mamei pentru ca doar atunci avea pofta sa manance cartofi prajiti.&lt;br /&gt;  Au trecut anii si acea fetita a ajuns adolescenta, s-a indragostit, a suferit... si asa a continuat sirul pana in prezent, timp de 20 ani!&lt;br /&gt;In 20 ani poate spune ca a realizat ce inseamna iubirea si cate cai intoarse poate avea... pentru prima data s-a mutat cu cineva, cu toate ca nu stau singuri... il iubesti mult. il adora atunci cand se poarta ca un copil, il "detesta" atunci cand nu ea face curatenie, iar el se uita, il place atunci cand ii aduce cafeaua la pat si il doreste, atunci cand nu este langa el...&lt;br /&gt;  Domnisoara R. poate spune cu certitudine ca il iubeste pe Domnisorul (pt ca asa ii suna mai bine) A. , ca isi iubeste mama mai mult decat pe oricine, ca isi iubeste bunicii si ca si-ar dori sa fie nemuritori, ca ar dori tuturor un frate care sa fie alaturi de ei atunci cand sufera si un tata care sa imparta totul cu ei!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Eu mai bine ma duc sa fac clatite! Restul e tacere! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-3803746642310167552?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FERVrpIHJA9Lbpr1wpKlZnTPcmw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FERVrpIHJA9Lbpr1wpKlZnTPcmw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/glici96m0q8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/3803746642310167552/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=3803746642310167552&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3803746642310167552?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3803746642310167552?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/glici96m0q8/20-ani.html" title="20 ani" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2010/01/20-ani.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UDRng9eCp7ImA9WxBTGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-9093284947505120003</id><published>2009-12-16T11:04:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T11:21:17.660+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-16T11:21:17.660+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="leapsa" /><title>Leapsa :)</title><content type="html">Am primit o leapsa de la &lt;a href="http://dannysmindbreaks.blogspot.com/"&gt;Danny&lt;/a&gt; si am sa incerc sa raspund sincer, dar recunosc ca am nevoie de putin timp sa ma gandesc.&lt;br /&gt;Top 6 al melodiilor preferate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Enigma- return to innocence&lt;br /&gt;5. Damien Rice- The blower's daughter&lt;br /&gt;4. Green day- 21 guns&lt;br /&gt;3. Club 8- love in december&lt;br /&gt;2. Trooper- strigat&lt;br /&gt;1. Kansas- dust in the wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nu sunt sigura ca asta e ordinea sau ca astea ar fi toate, dar, in principiu, cam asta e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dau leapsa mai departe lui &lt;a href="http://catcoffeeandshampoobubbles.blogspot.com/"&gt;liz&lt;/a&gt; si &lt;a href="http://be-my-autumn.blogspot.com/"&gt;Bi.ZZ.u&lt;/a&gt; si lista va continua!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-9093284947505120003?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zAJX1JT2GHyKaJ8jBNTNs62YWiI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zAJX1JT2GHyKaJ8jBNTNs62YWiI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/h_wFw_uyUNE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/9093284947505120003/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=9093284947505120003&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/9093284947505120003?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/9093284947505120003?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/h_wFw_uyUNE/leapsa.html" title="Leapsa :)" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/12/leapsa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QCRX89fSp7ImA9WxBTFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-1414020121290260506</id><published>2009-12-12T15:30:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T15:42:44.165+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-12T15:42:44.165+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iarna" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fulgi" /><title>Ninge!</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SyOctE8DpUI/AAAAAAAAAf8/uzqUmdmTvFw/s1600-h/ninge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 335px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414343475263153474" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SyOctE8DpUI/AAAAAAAAAf8/uzqUmdmTvFw/s320/ninge.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ninge! A inceput sa ninga in Bucuresti. ce-i drept, sunt fulgi mici, dar ninge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu sunt cam bolnavioara de 4 zile, dar sper sa ma fac mai repede bine si sa ma pot bucura de zapada. recunosc ca am mers azi pana jos, spun asta ca sa ii pot oftica pe cei care nu au zapada!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E frumos! E cineva care lipseste, dar se va intoarce intr-un final, cand va termina treaba :) Si mai e ceva, nu gasesc si eu un film de suflet, sa il vad singurica, daca stiti ceva, anuntati-ma si pe mine!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O sa vina Craciunul, Revelionul, perioade frumoase, mosi craciuni, braduti, he he... nebunii!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pana atunci, sa ne bucuram de ceea ce ni se ofera!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;p.s: pacat ca nu ninge si la breaza! :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-1414020121290260506?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_bj_XePLorhHL8eOPygHMozzkIA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_bj_XePLorhHL8eOPygHMozzkIA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/2aTWuXhVmp8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/1414020121290260506/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=1414020121290260506&amp;isPopup=true" title="9 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/1414020121290260506?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/1414020121290260506?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/2aTWuXhVmp8/ninge.html" title="Ninge!" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SyOctE8DpUI/AAAAAAAAAf8/uzqUmdmTvFw/s72-c/ninge.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/12/ninge.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MEQ3kyfCp7ImA9WxNaFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-4838884510578091572</id><published>2009-11-29T18:35:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T22:10:02.794+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-29T22:10:02.794+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pitic" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iarna" /><title>Trupuri</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SxKwFgrHhfI/AAAAAAAAAf0/Zv1SM3eXUro/s1600/Picture+263+m8+frame+final.preview.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SxKwFgrHhfI/AAAAAAAAAf0/Zv1SM3eXUro/s320/Picture+263+m8+frame+final.preview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409579711142004210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oare inceputul e la fel de greu pentru oricare dintre voi?&lt;br /&gt;Se trezeste adesea intr-o oarecare stare de inconstienta. Sta si priveste indelung peretii albi, se cufunda in colturi, ridica ochii spre tavan si o gasesti acolo pentru mai multe clipe.&lt;br /&gt;Isi traieste viata intr-o camera imbibata de fumul de tigara, ascunsa in spatele unor jaluzele galbene. Doarme intr-un pat mic  in care incape si dragostea. El zambeste si o face sa-l iubeasca. O saruta si se simte dezbracata din priviri... isi pierde degetele prin trupul ei si hainele dispar. Ii priveste trupul gol si in mintea lui este ceata. Poate ca se apropie iarna, poate ca dorinta e prea mare. O poate avea, dar lui nu ii plac lucrurile normale... Face pasi pe sanii ei si isi continua drumul spre picioare. Se simte mic si strada e prea lunga, aluneca incet. Gata!&lt;br /&gt;Prin ochii lui albastrii este speciala. Isi plimba mainile si o saruta usor. Ea tremura... el tace. Deodata se schimba totul intr-o ploaie, una torentiala din zilele de vara. Si ii canta iubirea. Se aud stropi la fereastra. El se lipeste de pieptul ei si ofteaza. Ea tace! Nu-si doreste decat sa nu se mai termine. Simte, tremura... nu e decat una din noptile ce vor mai fi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sa ma iubesti mult! &lt;/span&gt;se aude. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Se poate mai mult? &lt;/span&gt;raspunde o voce de barbat. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tu intotdeauna o sa poti mai mult!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Sa revenim la mine! imi doresc atat de mult sa ninga. Gandul ca o sa fie cu mine de craciun, ca o sa fim la Breaza si ca de dimineata o sa ne trezeasca mama, ma face sa plang. Mi-e dor de ea. Ma intrebam aseara ce as face daca n-ar mai fi mama... m-a pufnit plansul... cred ca as muri si eu.&lt;br /&gt;Tu ce ai face?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-4838884510578091572?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-PFwxGcctLkkC0uIo9s06tHJOXA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-PFwxGcctLkkC0uIo9s06tHJOXA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/OxHtVKc5uFM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/4838884510578091572/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=4838884510578091572&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/4838884510578091572?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/4838884510578091572?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/OxHtVKc5uFM/trupuri.html" title="Trupuri" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SxKwFgrHhfI/AAAAAAAAAf0/Zv1SM3eXUro/s72-c/Picture+263+m8+frame+final.preview.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/11/trupuri.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQEQHs6fCp7ImA9WxNQEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-444770731241510961</id><published>2009-09-15T13:07:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T13:58:21.514+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-15T13:58:21.514+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wake me up when september comes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pitic" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="red hair" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="R." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prieteni" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dor" /><title>Exista viata in mine</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/Sq9zOjGY7GI/AAAAAAAAAfU/sxhvBdeG0c8/s1600-h/viata.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/Sq9zOjGY7GI/AAAAAAAAAfU/sxhvBdeG0c8/s320/viata.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381646773508435042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  In sfarsit simt si eu ca traiesc. Incep sa simt! Mi-e dor, nu doare... mi-aduc aminte de pauze din liceu, de colegi, prieteni, de prima betie, de cantari la chitara, de ore petrecute pe mal sau pe bancuta la gara, de emotii inainte de ora la mate, pe care le retraiesc si in perioada examenelor.&lt;br /&gt; Iti mai aduci tu aminte cate zile m-ai asteptat la usa, doar ca sa fumam o tigara? Cu toate ca sunt inca ametita de la antibiotice, imi vin tot felul secvente in capsor :)&lt;br /&gt; Din tot liceul ala cred ca de tine imi e cel mai dor, in rest m-am pierdut de tot, de toate, de toti. Nu cred ca am uitat calee, cred ca am uitat sa fac pasii, dar invat eu sa merg din nou!&lt;br /&gt;  Nu ai putea tu sa ma inveti sa iubesc? Nu, nu pe tine! Pe cineva care sa merite. Sa am rabdare, sa il privesc ore in sir fara sa ma satur, sa ma pierd prin el, sa il ascult, fara sa imi doresc sa mai termine? Cred ca un pas l-am facut deja... am rabdare sa il las sa isi faca ordine in viata, fara termen limita (atunci cand va veni ziua in care nu voi mai putea, am sa il anunt ).&lt;br /&gt;  Sa trecem peste cu zambetul pe buze :) ! Ce am facut in ultima vreme? Am stat in biker's ( pt ca acolo lucrez), cam jumatate de vara, m-am betzivanit prin centru (vorba unui prieten), am tot fumat, chiar prea mult (tigari- pentru ca sunt un copil cuminte, vorbind serios acum), am ranit o persoana draga mie si imi pare tare rau. Eu i-am spus ca-s naspa, el nu a vrut sa creada. Mai nou, am auzit ca as fi si ticaloasa, dar tot o fata draguta raman :)) .&lt;br /&gt; Asa. Si am trecut prin perioade mai frumoase, mai putin frumoase. Am tot ras, am picat in butoiul cu melancolie, cred ca am plans de vreo 2 ori in toata vara, odata (legat pentru ca asa se scrie mai nou) zilele trecute din cauza racelii. L-am reintalnit pe domnul R. si a fost spectaculos! Chiar si acum mai zambesc. A fost incredibil pentru ca am avut aceleasi sentimente de altadata. M-a certat pentru ca am fugit atatea luni, i-am spus ca il iubesc si ca mi-a fost atat de dor de el ( si da, mi-a fost atat de dor cum nu mi-a fost de nimeni niciodata). Si inca mi se mai face dor de el.&lt;br /&gt; Parti proaste: nu am mai baut cafea de duminca de la alex, nu am mai fumat o tigara (intreaga, pentru ca un fum am tras si mai devreme, insa nu o pot termina) tot de duminica de la bar... toate astea pentru ca m-a luat pe mine draguta de raceala. :)&lt;br /&gt; Si cu asta cam tot! Rux inca traieste! ;) Si spectaculos :))&lt;br /&gt; pana data viitoare ascultati " 21st century breakdown"- green day sau "baby"- serj tankian!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-444770731241510961?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DcUU8GiWnsgAXXAT9jL-WNEeY1M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DcUU8GiWnsgAXXAT9jL-WNEeY1M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/iTGvNssFMnY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/444770731241510961/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=444770731241510961&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/444770731241510961?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/444770731241510961?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/iTGvNssFMnY/exista-viata-in-mine.html" title="Exista viata in mine" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/Sq9zOjGY7GI/AAAAAAAAAfU/sxhvBdeG0c8/s72-c/viata.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/09/exista-viata-in-mine.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUDRX86eyp7ImA9WxNRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-6286106622648885259</id><published>2009-09-14T10:34:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T10:44:34.113+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-14T10:44:34.113+03:00</app:edited><title>A trecut si vara</title><content type="html">Toata vara am fost pierduta, pierduta in amintiri, in baruri, in oameni pe care ii vedeam zi de zi, in lumea de afara. Si vara a trecut, tocmai de aceea ma asteptam sa se termine si perioada mea mai proasta.&lt;br /&gt;  Am cunoscut multi oameni, oameni care par duri, dar nu sunt nicidecum asa, oameni care isi doresc ceva de la mine, dar de la care nu imi doresc nimic sau poate doar prietenie. Am simtit cum e sa te iubeasca cineva si cum e sa aiba rabdare cu tine neconditionat. M-am simtit si singura si trista si speciala... am si zambit... am trecut prin tot felul de stari, m-au incercat tot felul de sentimente.&lt;br /&gt;  Nu mai fumez de 2 zile :) he he! Nu pentru ca as fi putut sa ma las. Am racit atat de tare, mi s-au umflat amigdalele si nu mai simt nevoia sa fumez. De mancat nu prea pot, nu ma simt atat de bine, dar trec eu si peste asta!&lt;br /&gt;  Astept sa vad/simt ce imi rezerva toamna, in afara de ploi. Poate ajung si pe la mare in weekend cu cineva drag mie, poate o sa fie mai frumos :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-6286106622648885259?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DD1rQ5wK1LpkB5neZfcTFAB1Dhc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DD1rQ5wK1LpkB5neZfcTFAB1Dhc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DD1rQ5wK1LpkB5neZfcTFAB1Dhc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DD1rQ5wK1LpkB5neZfcTFAB1Dhc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/64rGgtdVf4A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/6286106622648885259/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=6286106622648885259&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/6286106622648885259?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/6286106622648885259?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/64rGgtdVf4A/trecut-si-vara.html" title="A trecut si vara" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/09/trecut-si-vara.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cNQ3k_fCp7ImA9WxJWEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-7182699745002768300</id><published>2009-06-14T21:49:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T22:51:32.744+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-14T22:51:32.744+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trairi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="miroase a tei" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="melancolie acuta :)" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="you make me smile" /><title>miroase a tei!</title><content type="html">Si se trezeste, se uita in stanga ei... zambeste sfios si isi acopera ochii. se uita la ceas, e inca devreme si ganduri ii joaca prin minte. ar vrea o tigara, un sarut pe obraz, dar mirosul de tei o cheama afara.&lt;br /&gt;se ridica si se indreapta spre fereastra... il cheama la ea, dar el leneveste.&lt;br /&gt;o muzica i&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SjVRZKwJ7LI/AAAAAAAAAfM/k_YydEK8qC0/s1600-h/tei.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SjVRZKwJ7LI/AAAAAAAAAfM/k_YydEK8qC0/s200/tei.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347269625397243058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;n surdina, muncitori pe strada, masini asteptand la rosu, iar ea asteptandu-l pe verde... avalanse de ganduri ii umbla prin vene... se simte mai mica decat oricand si el nu-i acolo s-o tina in brate. si ploua cu litere... incepe cu T, continua cu alta litera uitata intr-un colt, se agata de Dor si pleaca numai decat.&lt;br /&gt;Se termina visul... nu e nici tei si nici nu se poate fuma in dormitor, nu e nici el in stanga ei, sunt doar ganduri. miroase a vara.&lt;br /&gt;si se imbina stari si parul ei e verde. maine nu e numai o zi de luni, ci una de examen si munca. oricat s-ar stradui nu isi poate iesi din stare... totul e doar un timp cu putine ore... si le numara... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ...,9... si se face ora 7. din nou doua ore pe maxi, din nou 2 ore de examen, din nou pana la 2 la bikers!&lt;br /&gt;" mami, mai e mult pana departe?"  niciun raspuns, dar ea nu vrea sa ajunga departe, ci sa se opreasca timpul in loc.&lt;br /&gt;"de ce de la 11 la 6 sunt doar 7 ore? nu-i asa ca daca ma fac mare vor fi 10?" si se leaga de o speranta... si zboara pe ea prin timpul prea scurt. si-l vede zambind, dar parca n-ar vrea sa stea doar putin... ce-i un moment intr-o ora prea mica? o strangere de mana, un sarut nu atat de inocent, o privire pe geamul unui taxi, un "ramai" intr-o clipa mai mult decat perfecta...&lt;br /&gt;nu ma citi, s-ar putea sa nu iti placa ce gasesti!&lt;br /&gt;multe vise se indeplinesc! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                       de ce nu e si maine tot azi? dar ne vedem joi, nu?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-7182699745002768300?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2urycjpK5EkYgF1xH2LAUdajUbo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2urycjpK5EkYgF1xH2LAUdajUbo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/x5ILCF8uQNM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/7182699745002768300/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=7182699745002768300&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/7182699745002768300?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/7182699745002768300?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/x5ILCF8uQNM/miroase-tei.html" title="miroase a tei!" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SjVRZKwJ7LI/AAAAAAAAAfM/k_YydEK8qC0/s72-c/tei.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/06/miroase-tei.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcHR38_cCp7ImA9WxNaFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-5516095969762347292</id><published>2009-04-24T20:18:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T19:33:56.148+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-29T19:33:56.148+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="the end" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="uit" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tox" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><title>have no words</title><content type="html">De azi nu imi mai pasa de tine! De azi te-am uitat de tot! Si nu incerca sa ma contrazici spunandu-mi ca nu te voi uita nici 30 de ani de acum incolo sau ca nu te-am uitat pentru ca scriu de tine in acest moment.&lt;br /&gt;Azi am realizat cat de mult pot iubi, cat de mult il iubesc si cat de bine ma simt langa el. Nici n-ai idee cum e sa iti impartaseasca cineva sentimentele sau sa te intreaca in sentimente de iubire!&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai e loc de regrete, de pareri de rau... de puncte de suspensie sau de amintit ce bine era odata! E bine acum, asta e cel mai important. Ma bucur de tine, tox, in fiecare zi. Si, crede-ma ca e atat de bine sa ma trezesc langa tine, fie ca esti in dreapta sau in stanga mea. Nu ti-am spus, dar e o placere sa imi beau cafeaua cu tine si sa pap de fiecare data cand imi faci tu. he he, te iubesc!&lt;br /&gt;Ti-am mai spus, capat o energie pozitiva si nu mai am stare cand te vad. Si acum imi e dor... dar de tine!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SfIOezy7eDI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hdDV_VGS0Qw/s1600-h/Photo1555.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SfIOezy7eDI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hdDV_VGS0Qw/s320/Photo1555.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328337231595403314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu au niciun sens cuvintele cand pentru mine existi tu!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-5516095969762347292?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/boOwet2tEoXlP7t7QnVEVyAq-Lo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/boOwet2tEoXlP7t7QnVEVyAq-Lo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/2ze4UQ_-FMg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/5516095969762347292/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=5516095969762347292&amp;isPopup=true" title="11 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/5516095969762347292?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/5516095969762347292?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/2ze4UQ_-FMg/have-no-words.html" title="have no words" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SfIOezy7eDI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hdDV_VGS0Qw/s72-c/Photo1555.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>11</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/04/have-no-words.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4BQ388fCp7ImA9WxVaE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-3881178826761132489</id><published>2009-04-09T19:35:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T18:39:12.174+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-10T18:39:12.174+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wake me up when september comes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="un nou inceput" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="no coffee" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="no R." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dor" /><title>Probleme de memorie</title><content type="html">Nu imi mai amintesc cu exactitate felul in care am dat peste melodia "probleme de memorie" de la taxi, insa stiu sigur ca eram pe versuri.ro. Pot sustine cu tarie ca imi place taxi si ca mai rar dai peste astfel de versuri in Romania zilelor noastre sau la alte formatii romanesti.&lt;br /&gt;Tuturor ni se intampla sa avem probleme de memorie sau cel putin sa ne prefacem ca avem :) dintr-o data sa intervina o schimbare brusca de comportament (am accentuat prin "dintr-o data" si "brusca") ... dupa numai cateva zile sa se schimbe absolut totul, sa nu mai simti la fel, sa uiti...&lt;br /&gt;Ce rost mai au explicatiile, cu ce sens sa isi mai bata capul? de ce sa mai viseze, fiind convinsa ca nu se intampla la fel si in cealalta parte? De ce sa isi mai amintesca de anumite persoane cand totul poate fi inlocuit? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u0sNi4kzaEQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x006699&amp;color2=0x54abd6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u0sNi4kzaEQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x006699&amp;color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probleme de memorie&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/Sd9nZkyEZgI/AAAAAAAAAek/1UCV0Y9y690/s1600-h/R%26R.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 187px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/Sd9nZkyEZgI/AAAAAAAAAek/1UCV0Y9y690/s200/R%26R.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323086973643286018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o zi ai uitat si n-ai mai stiut&lt;br /&gt;Sa ma privesti cu ochii de inceput&lt;br /&gt;Azi nu mai sunt atat de sigur ca vreau sa vii&lt;br /&gt;Si ma gandesc in fiecare noapte cum ar fi,&lt;br /&gt;Cum ar fi sa te intorci si sa-ti spun&lt;br /&gt;Ca mi-e dor si doare atunci cand nu mai esti&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai esti ganduri sa-mi citesti&lt;br /&gt;Si sa-ti mai spun cum inchid ochii&lt;br /&gt;Si te vad si cum nebunia furtunii e din nou in mine&lt;br /&gt;Te vad peste tot numai pe tine&lt;br /&gt;Te vad in toate femeile pe care le-ntalnesc&lt;br /&gt;O da, inca mai gresesc desi stiu&lt;br /&gt;C-ai avut probleme de memorie&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o zi ai uitat si n-ai mai stiut&lt;br /&gt;Sa ma privesti cu ochii de inceput&lt;br /&gt;Azi nu mai sunt atat de sigur ca vreau sa vii&lt;br /&gt;Desi ma gandesc in fiecare noapte cum ar fi&lt;br /&gt;Cum ar fi sa te intorci si sa-ti spun&lt;br /&gt;Ca daca tot ai inchis marea in ochi&lt;br /&gt;Sa stii ca de-acum e ploaie pe mare&lt;br /&gt;Ploua pe mare foarte tare&lt;br /&gt;Dar n-o sa-ti spun, cauta-ma tu!&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca-i foarte clar&lt;br /&gt;Acum cauti altceva&lt;br /&gt;Poate cauti iubirea&lt;br /&gt;Chiar!&lt;br /&gt;Unde cauti tu iu..?&lt;br /&gt;Mai bine, mai bine nu stiu&lt;br /&gt;Nu-i destul de tarziu sa stiu,&lt;br /&gt;Insa stiu c-ai avut probleme de memorie&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o zi ai uitat si n-ai mai stiut&lt;br /&gt;Sa ma privesti cu ochii de inceput&lt;br /&gt;Azi nu mai sunt atat de sigur ca vreau sa vii&lt;br /&gt;Si ma gandesc in fiecare noapte cum ar fi&lt;br /&gt;O, da&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc ca poate-ar trebui sa cer inc-o opinie&lt;br /&gt;De la poeti sau de la filozofi,&lt;br /&gt;Desi stiu ca dragostea nu-i altceva&lt;br /&gt;Decat o pereche de pantofi&lt;br /&gt;Si nu mai sunt atat de sigur&lt;br /&gt;Ca stelele care cad nu pier&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai sunt atat de sigur&lt;br /&gt;Dar sper, dar sper, dar sper&lt;br /&gt;Probleme de memorie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si continuam sa speram, sa luam in seama sfaturi, sa ne agatam de fiecare semn ce ni se arata, sa credem in vise, de parca se indeplinesc prea multe...&lt;br /&gt;Recunosc ca a inceput sa  bea cafea foarte rar... zilele astea a baut. Recunosc ca in ultima vreme au fost putine noptile in care a adormit fara sa ii apara in minte, desi totul i se parea un joc bizar. El nu aparea singur, ceea ce nu o lasa sa retraiasca sentimente din trecut. Se trezea dintr-o data intr-un spatiu gol, lipsit de viata, desi erau atatea persoane in jur, isi amintea de plimbari in parc, de o cafea cu lapte varsata in poala la prima curba, de prima zi petrecuta impreuna, de prima dimineata in care s-a trezit langa el, de nopti la camin, de zile la birou. Si au mai fost atatea.&lt;br /&gt;Ai cum sa te prefaci ca nu exist? Sunt convinsa ca nici tie nu iti e simplu. Imi e dor! si chiar doare.&lt;br /&gt;heee, uite, e prosopul ala rosu pe pat, esti tu pe scaunul pe care stau eu acum, in poza din telefon, e celalalt prosop galben la bucuresti si tu in gand!&lt;br /&gt;dar esti mult prea sus!&lt;br /&gt;Si stii ce? Am pe cineva langa mine care nu ma lasa singura, am pe cineva langa mine care ma iubeste si in ceea ce il priveste dragostea nu e imposibila, am pe cineva pe care il pot suna la 2 noapte sa ii spun ca imi e dor de el sau ca vreau sa vina sa ma tina in brate. Cred ca am ramas cu oarecare trauma dupa relatia traita cu el, urasc persoanele care nu au timp decat o data pe saptamana si te urasc pe tine! pentru ca... mai bine tac! Citeste versurile si asculta melodia asta!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love is a losing game ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-3881178826761132489?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A_iBJuKkfuHmIs7DEU_NBFIY580/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A_iBJuKkfuHmIs7DEU_NBFIY580/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/JEw6hQqVYC8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/3881178826761132489/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=3881178826761132489&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3881178826761132489?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3881178826761132489?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/JEw6hQqVYC8/probleme-de-memorie.html" title="Probleme de memorie" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/Sd9nZkyEZgI/AAAAAAAAAek/1UCV0Y9y690/s72-c/R%26R.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/04/probleme-de-memorie.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYHRXg4eyp7ImA9WxNaFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-3514028711944510959</id><published>2009-03-25T00:45:00.012+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T19:35:34.633+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-29T19:35:34.633+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="e o zi de primavara" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="un nou inceput" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="uit" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tox" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="R." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bazdaganie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prieteni" /><title>Uitarea</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://agenda.liternet.ro/imagini04/uitarea0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 328px;" src="http://agenda.liternet.ro/imagini04/uitarea0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   Primul si cel mai simplu pas in definirea uitarii, il facem deschizand dexul sau un link care sa ne trimita spre dex. Apoi cautam UITAREA si ceva din ceea ce gasim se arata si mai jos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="def" onclick="return searchClickedWord(event);"&gt;   &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;UITÁRE&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;uitări&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, s.f. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;1.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; Faptul de a uita, de a nu-şi aduce aminte (de cineva sau de ceva); lipsa oricărei amintiri. ♢ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Uitare de sine&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; = &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;a)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; visare, reverie; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;b)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; nepăsare (altruistă) faţă de interesele proprii. ♢ Expr. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;A da&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; (sau &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;a lăsa&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;uitării&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; (pe cineva sau ceva) = a nu se mai interesa, a înceta să mai iubească sau să-şi amintească (de cineva sau de ceva), a se sili să uite. ♦ Rătacire morală. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;2.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;. Fig. Nefiinţă, neant. – V. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;uita&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stateam intr-o seara de toamna in masina si beam o cafea, atunci a fost momentul in care am fost intrebata daca stiu care e lucrul cel mai de pret care i s-a dat omului. M-am gandit putin si i-am raspuns: GANDIREA! Imediat am fost contrazisa cu un alt raspuns: UITAREA. Mi s-au adus si argumente si am ajuns la aceeasi concluzie cu el. Daca nu am fi putut sa uitam, fie totul ar fi fost prea simplu, fie prea complicat.&lt;br /&gt;In concluzie, uitarea este prietenul cel mai apropiat dupa un esec. Insa cel mai mare pacat, tristete, e ca uitam prea mult. Ne uitam prietenii cand ne indragostim, ne aducem aminte de ei dupa, uitam clipe care la un moment dat au fost importante pentru noi, ii uitam pe cei care nu mai apartim acestei lumi, dar care ne-au fost dragi la un moment dat. Uitam oameni pe care intr-un anumit timp ii iubeam cum nu ne puteam imagina vreodata ca vom putea iubi.&lt;br /&gt;Uitam prea repede uneori... poate ca asta e punctul in care voiam sa ajung. Nu stiu daca te-am uitat in intregime, dar o mare parte din mine te-a uitat. Peste 2 zile sunt 2 saptamani de cand nu te-am mai vazut. Mi se pare ca a trecut o vesnicie. Iti multumesc macar pentru ca mi-ai dat sansa sa fiu fericita, m-ai lasat sa aleg ce vreau sa fac.&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu daca iti e dor, desi recunosc ca nu m-ar deranja deloc asta, nu stiu daca imi e dor, poate doar putin, dar nu te intereseaza oricum acest aspect...&lt;br /&gt;Am citit zilele trecute un post intitulat &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ADIO&lt;/span&gt;. Sa stii ca atunci cand am inceput sa il citesc m-am gandit la tine. De cate ori mi-am dorit sa iti spun acelasi lucru. Dupa ce l-a citit si D-soara I., mi-a zis ca pare ca iti e dedicat. Hai sa il cautam si sa ii cerem scuze lui PADRE daca il deranjeaza cu ceva ca l-am adus pe acest blog si l-am adaptat la feminin sau masculin, in functie de caz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Atat de mult mi-am dorit sa iti spun asta! De cate ori stateam si ma gandeam cand va veni clipa in care voi putea sa stau dreapta, fara nici cea mai mica retinere, si sa spun senina “Adio”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="def" onclick="return searchClickedWord(event);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;M-am saturat de tine! M-am saturat sa te simt intotdeauna rece. Atat vroiam de la tine, un pic de caldura, sa imi simt sufletul cum tresalta macar un pic. Dar nu. Tot ce primeam din partea ta era… nimic… Esti un sloi, asta esti, incapabil de a face macar sa apara o floare. Sa-mi bag picioarele de nu am incercat.&lt;/span&gt; (...)&lt;br /&gt;S&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i nu vroiam sa se termine. Dar a trebuit sa se termine, nu-i asa? A trebuit sa o faci din nou. asa cum ai facut-o si inainte. Macar o data speram sa fie altfel. Chiar speram!&lt;/span&gt; (...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Asa ca iti spun adio. Nu te mai vreau. Nu vreau sa ma mai trezesc dimineata si sa vad ca tot nu esti aici. Du-te altundeva. Aici nu mai esti dorit. Crede-ma. Si nu e vorba doar de mine. Nimeni nu te mai vrea aici. Poate ca inainte cineva isi dorea sa te vada, ca poate i-ai lipsit. Dar si asta de rare ori. Asa ca pleaca! "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stii cat de mult mi-am dorit sa renunt la tine, nu? Sa imi vad de viata mea, sa ma plimb de nebuna pe strazi, daca acela era lucrul care ma facea fericita, sa ma duc intr-un club sa dansez si sa beau salitos pana dimineata si apoi sa il intreb pe barman de unde si-a luat pierce-ul, sa stau cu prietenii si sa radem la bancuri seci, sa n-am bani, dar nu de asta sa depinda fericirea mea. Sa ma prinda zapada in tenesi si ametita de la putin alcool si sa alerg prin zapada, sa nu mai astept tramvaiul si sa ma bat cu bulgari cu Irina, sa am bani de tren, dar sa merg cu nashul acasa pt ca sunt simpatica si se poate... sa primesc mesaje de la toata lumea si sa nu ma mai deranjeze ca tu nu dai niciun semn.&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o oarecare masura ma bucur ca s-a terminat tot, dar intr-o alta masura regret ca te-ai schimbat. Eee, nu mai e loc de pareri de rau. Viata si-a continuat traseul, ies vinerea si sambata in oras, in club sau la ping pong, cu el sau cu prietenii. Ma simt ca un om de 20 ani care traieste ca unul de 20, nu ca unul de 20 care traieste ca unul de 30. Ma simt altfel, intr-un mod ciudat cand sunt singura, de unde si teama de singuratate, intr-un mod teribil de bine cand sunt cu cine drag mie langa mine :)&lt;br /&gt;Si, in incheiere, citate celebre :) and a big smile for everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; " Te uit pentru ca tu esti sufletul sufletului meu."             R. Tagore&lt;br /&gt;" Uitarea ni se pare o tragedie. Uitarea e suprema lasitate."             V. Eftimiu&lt;br /&gt;" Uitarea este un burete de stres pe care nu il gasesti niciodata cand ai nevoie."   Pierre Veron&lt;br /&gt;" Voi incerca sa uit. Aduceti-mi numai aminte!"      Valeriu Butulescu&lt;br /&gt;" Uitarea e prima facultate a omului."          Albert Camus&lt;br /&gt;" Viata nu-i posibila decat prin uitare."          Emil Cioran&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oUheo402Tok&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oUheo402Tok&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;                                     P.S. : Recunosc ca imi e dor sa mi se spuna "te iubesc, bazdaganie!" .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-3514028711944510959?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dhVXptwVUpwcQL6YVoacdbLnaYA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dhVXptwVUpwcQL6YVoacdbLnaYA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/UHKzOf31Nvw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/3514028711944510959/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=3514028711944510959&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3514028711944510959?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/3514028711944510959?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/UHKzOf31Nvw/uitarea.html" title="Uitarea" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/03/uitarea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMHQ349fSp7ImA9WxVUFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-2490362546764307530</id><published>2009-03-19T18:56:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T19:23:52.065+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-19T19:23:52.065+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pitic" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="no R." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tox" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="noi2" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prieteni" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><title>un pitic ce danseaza</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/ScJ_ZHHFR1I/AAAAAAAAAck/227BCiqL3CI/s1600-h/Photo1313.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/ScJ_ZHHFR1I/AAAAAAAAAck/227BCiqL3CI/s320/Photo1313.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314950579632818002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A fost un inceput de joaca... o cafea si un suc sau doua ceaiuri, nu mai retin prea bine acest aspect.&lt;br /&gt;Au fost vorbe, discutii ca intre prieteni, ca mai apoi sa se incheie totul cu cateva saruturi. Urmeaza o serie de mesaje, convorbiri interminabile, ore intregi consumate in fata unui monitor si a unei tastaturi, zambete.&lt;br /&gt; Pentru ca totul mergea prea bine, de ce nu ar fi putut sa fie impreuna? Prea bine ca au putut. In fine, voiam sa ajung la un subiect mai delicat: cum iti dai seama ca iubesti?&lt;br /&gt; De ce trebuie sa trecem prin serii de suferinta? de ce trebuie sa ne jucam cu sentimentele oamenilor? de ce trebuie sa para intr-un fel si la sfarsit sa imi arate cine a fost? de ce sa fie viata atat de complicata? de ce a incercat in nenumarate randuri sa imi demonstreze ca nu pot ajunge la nivelul pe care il considera el inalt? de ce el ma face sa zambesc si cand ma gandesc la el am mereu zambetul pe buze?&lt;br /&gt;  de ce nu ma mai afecteaza nimic din ceea ce zici tu, desi te-am iubit atat de mult?&lt;br /&gt; EL... e diferit de cei pe care i-am intalnit de un an jumatate incoace... nu e barbatul serios, pregatit sa mearga la birou mereu, desi isi petrecea multe ore intr-o garsoniera, nici baiatul care voia sa para barbat si odata cu trecerea timpului mai descopereai n minciunele, nici cel care asculta rock si ma iubeste asa neconditionat.&lt;br /&gt; E toxic baiatul asta, creeaza dependenta! :) incredibil, dar sunt fascinata de felul lui de a fi sau de a se purta cu mine. nu a trebuit sa renunt la cafea, la tigari sau la alte lucruri din trecut si TRAIESC IN PREZENT!&lt;br /&gt; Ma simt de parca am prins viata, sunt ca in septembrie anul trecut, mereu cu zambetul pe buze, sociabila cat incape.&lt;br /&gt; Astept sa vina ziua de maine, sa il vad, sa ma intalnesc cu prietenii. tot cei din liceu raman prieteni! am chef de o bere, de un ping pong, desi nu ma pricep de nicio culoare. am chef de el si de calmul lui bine definit.&lt;br /&gt;Ma bucur doar ca mi-am demonstrat ca poate sa mearga si mai bine decat acum 2 saptamani :)&lt;br /&gt;Multumesc tie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-2490362546764307530?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6GWX-qyvsUeRhjeLGi7y4cahuGc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6GWX-qyvsUeRhjeLGi7y4cahuGc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6GWX-qyvsUeRhjeLGi7y4cahuGc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6GWX-qyvsUeRhjeLGi7y4cahuGc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/NZSc4YHFoUk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/2490362546764307530/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=2490362546764307530&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/2490362546764307530?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/2490362546764307530?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/NZSc4YHFoUk/un-pitic-ce-danseaza.html" title="un pitic ce danseaza" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/ScJ_ZHHFR1I/AAAAAAAAAck/227BCiqL3CI/s72-c/Photo1313.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/03/un-pitic-ce-danseaza.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcFQ3w_eyp7ImA9WxVUGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-7056474378328145386</id><published>2009-03-09T00:21:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T12:13:32.243+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-25T12:13:32.243+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="luv and heppines" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fericire" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my class" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="coffee" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="eu/ voi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="noi2" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="you make me smile" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="o alta zi ca multe ce vor mai fi" /><title>Ce e? E asa sau AsA?</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SbRVzRNLEzI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RByzZRcGvPw/s1600-h/evil_crew_by_Mistress_gothca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 279px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SbRVzRNLEzI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RByzZRcGvPw/s320/evil_crew_by_Mistress_gothca.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310964199857001266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar asa, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;ce&lt;/span&gt; e &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;fericirea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;? Sa fie o stare euforica, o clipa in care sa te simti special, o partida de sex sau o cafea de dimineata? Sa o putem atinge doar in vis?&lt;br /&gt;Eu cred ca nu mai stim ce inseamna aia fericire, exact cum am citit la cineva, o intalnim si in lucrurile simple.&lt;br /&gt;Pe mine ma fac fericita copiii, cei pana in 5 anisori. Sunt dragalasi, radiez de fericire cand ii vad razand si chinuindu-se sa vorbesca. Acum nu stiu ce simt, nu sunt trista, fericita nu sunt, cu siguranta, dar zambesc. Pentru ca &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;tu&lt;/span&gt; poti sa ma faci sa zambesc, pentru ca Tu nu poti sa dai un semn timp de o saptamana, pentru ca pot sa nu ma duc la facultate maine si sa ma trezesc la mine in pat, desi m-am trezit mai bine sambata... doar laptele a lipsit... o cafea fara lapta, dar cu tine. Am petrecut un weekend asa cum mi-am dorit, toate &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);"&gt;persoanele dragi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;langa mine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, am jucat tenis, m-am luptat cu o durere de cap, ai fost &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;langa mine&lt;/span&gt;, am baut tequilla, am mers in club si m-am simtit ca acasa, am dansat pe scaun si am fumat un chistoc de tigara. am primit porunci, dar am si dat, am vazut oameni pe care nu i-am mai vazut de mult si de care imi era dor. Uneori simt ca traiesc cu adevarat. Si daca nu m-ar apasa niste ganduri, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 153);"&gt;ar fi perfect&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt; dar nu este&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;! dar mereu se intampla ceva, mereu se gasesc persoane care sa fie deranjate de faptul ca ma simt bine...&lt;br /&gt;Azi vreau sa nu imi pese. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Azi poti&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"&gt;sa ma cumperi ieftin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, ma simt prea batrana &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sa-ti mai cer ceva&lt;/span&gt; (astea sunt versuri ce mi-au venit in minte).&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; you can buy me with a coffee, i'm so cheap!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De ce crezi tu ca mereu ma deranjeaza ceva la tine? De ce crezi tu ca nu ma atrag oamenii "defecti"? De ce imi consum ore, deruland amintiri? de ce ma gandesc la tine de parca nu am sa te mai vad niciodata?&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SbRXDHJrw6I/AAAAAAAAAbc/AQpk4Bul-os/s1600-h/Imag023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SbRXDHJrw6I/AAAAAAAAAbc/AQpk4Bul-os/s320/Imag023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310965571547546530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Instead of dreaming of a man you'll never have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You'd better breathe with me and feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Instead of dreaming of a son you'll never have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You'd better breathe with me and feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   Instead of dreaming of a man I'll never be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;        You'd better breathe with me and feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Instead of guessing what the hell went wrong with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You'd better breathe with me and feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0FC2DUFo-l4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0FC2DUFo-l4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ca o incheiere asa, ca tot e tarziu... imi e dor de tine! Si... multumesc ca existi, Radu, si iarta-ma ca si eu gresesc!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;                                                  Noapte buna!&lt;br /&gt;                                                   Semnat, Eu!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-7056474378328145386?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oo1H_6SeaWOoGb1m452pD9H7QFI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oo1H_6SeaWOoGb1m452pD9H7QFI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oo1H_6SeaWOoGb1m452pD9H7QFI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oo1H_6SeaWOoGb1m452pD9H7QFI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/68PfQgpJXRY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/7056474378328145386/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=7056474378328145386&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/7056474378328145386?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/7056474378328145386?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/68PfQgpJXRY/ce-e-e-asa-sau-asa.html" title="Ce e? E asa sau AsA?" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SbRVzRNLEzI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RByzZRcGvPw/s72-c/evil_crew_by_Mistress_gothca.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/03/ce-e-e-asa-sau-asa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYBQ3c6eyp7ImA9WxVXE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-6973068691316975125</id><published>2009-02-11T20:54:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T21:22:32.913+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-11T21:22:32.913+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trairi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="coffee" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tox" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Monkey" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="R." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dorinte" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dor" /><title>Beep de dor</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZMlaykBsiI/AAAAAAAAAa0/ussDOiDrAew/s1600-h/miss0078.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 207px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZMlaykBsiI/AAAAAAAAAa0/ussDOiDrAew/s320/miss0078.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301622328524911138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Astazi, nu neaparat ca mai mereu, imi este dor... Par sa traiesc in trecut, fumez tigara si ma gandesc la cineva anume, deschid telefonul si ma gandesc la tine, dau un mesaj pentru ca imi lipsesti, beau o cafea pentru ca stiu ca ai vrea sa o bei cu mine...&lt;br /&gt;Ma plictisesc pentru ca tu nu esti cu mine, dar te simt... te simt in fiecare colt, in fiecare amintire... te simt in vis. Vii de parca ai vrea sa imi amintesti ca existi! Ei bine, nu te-am uitat! Am pierderi de memorie, dar tu te-ai prins bine de un colt de amintire si nicio avalansa nu te poate indeparta de acolo. Si pe tine, pe tine nu vreau eu sa te las sa pleci. Hee, de ce as vrea sa pleci daca tu stii sa imi intri pe sub piele?&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi, de unde atata iubire? De unde atata dor? De unde atatea ganduri si totodata atatea zambete? Iti mai aduci aminte cum era anul trecut pe vremea asta? Cate ore le mai pierdeam prin parc sau in spatele blocurilor fumand si ascultand "praf de stele" ? A fost un joc si nu mai un joc... a fost ceva special si ne-am purtat ca niste copii... Or mai exista pozele de la scari? Unde sunt ochelarii tai?&lt;br /&gt; Ce se mai intampla cu tine, domnule A., cel pe care l-am iubit atat de tare si care ma enerva in nenumarate randuri? Mi-e dor de un film vazut langa tine :)&lt;br /&gt; Mi-e dor de liceu si de emotiile de la mate, de un concert in clasa, de glume si de fotbal cu doze de suc :D&lt;br /&gt; Mi-e dor de Radu, mereu in ultima banca si mereu langa mine cand aveam nevoie de el, mi-e dor de Dana, care sughita la orele de engleza, de tudy care imita babele...&lt;br /&gt; Mi-e dor de Georgiana... mi-e dor de zdranganitul unei chitare, implicit de Georgi! Mi-e dor de Irina si de rasul ei colorat... mi-e dor de un 1 mai la mare...&lt;br /&gt; Mi-e dor de Carmen... si nu mai pot spune nimic altceva pentru ca stiu ca n-am sa o pot vedea prea devreme... dar mi-as fi dorit sa mai fie si azi aici... Mi-e dor de Mire si de Anca... ce ne mai petreceam noi orele in afara scolii, prin parc in Cornu sau la gara.&lt;br /&gt; Mi-e dor de voi toti, de inca un an de liceu...&lt;br /&gt;Acum imi este dor si de tine, T, pentru ca nu mi-ai mai dat un mesaj de o ora si ceva si vreau un beep de dor!&lt;br /&gt;Ma simt bine, chiar daca imi este dor, pentru ca stiu ca am sa vad toate persoanele de care am vorbit, mai putin una... hmm... totusi, nu as incheia aici lista... imi e dor de o intrunire de motoare la breaza si sa te aud cantand la chitara, domnule M.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZMlPkxQpVI/AAAAAAAAAas/O7b-3v2kpV0/s1600-h/dor.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZMlPkxQpVI/AAAAAAAAAas/O7b-3v2kpV0/s320/dor.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301622135843759442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-6973068691316975125?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JbRwwPZPazBITM-hSNvu_mv0se4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JbRwwPZPazBITM-hSNvu_mv0se4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JbRwwPZPazBITM-hSNvu_mv0se4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JbRwwPZPazBITM-hSNvu_mv0se4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/b_u8R4WYjLk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/6973068691316975125/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=6973068691316975125&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/6973068691316975125?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/6973068691316975125?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/b_u8R4WYjLk/beep-de-dor.html" title="Beep de dor" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZMlaykBsiI/AAAAAAAAAa0/ussDOiDrAew/s72-c/miss0078.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/02/beep-de-dor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YFR344fyp7ImA9WxVXEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-7967420200340087847</id><published>2009-02-10T21:12:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T21:45:16.037+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-10T21:45:16.037+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="milk and coffee" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trairi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tox" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bazdaganie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><title>Si daca...</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZHZNPf0kgI/AAAAAAAAAak/osd_En1yfkg/s1600-h/coffee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZHZNPf0kgI/AAAAAAAAAak/osd_En1yfkg/s320/coffee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301257057913311746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ce se intampla atunci cand nu sti ce simti, atunci cand ceea ce traiesti nu iti mai trezeste nicio senzatie, cand ti-e sufletul gol, dar mintea plina?&lt;br /&gt; Ce se intampla cand eu sunt aici si tu nu esti cu mine? Ce s-ar intampla daca azi as hotari sa nu te mai iubesc?&lt;br /&gt;  Ce e atunci cand ma gandesc la tine inainte sa adorm, dar cu toate astea nu te pot visa nicicand? Ce se intampla atunci cand am atatea de spus, dar nu imi gasesc cuvintele potrivite? Par sa fie prizonierele propriei mele guri, par sa fie legate de fundul sufletului si sa nu poata iesi de acolo... si le rog, le implor sa ma ajute sa imi golesc mintea, sa-mi elibereze sufletul. Si pe tine... cum imi dau eu seama ca ma iubesti tu, cand nici macar nu iti mai imparti timpul cu mine? Stai putin... mintea mea o ia razna... Dar cum imi dau seama daca o ia razna? Poate mintea mea sa o ia razna? Mai bine zis ca imi joaca feste... Incep sa rad fara niciun motiv, ca ma apoi sa ma gandesc la tine, sa imi dau seama ca nu m-ai cautat prea mult azi... dar nu-i nimic, cineva, inaintea ta facea tot la fel, actiona in acelasi mod... totusi... te poti preface ca nu exist?&lt;br /&gt;  Iti garantez ceva, ca oricat de tare ti-ai dori sa ma uiti, nu o sa poti face asta prea curand... exact cum spuneai si tu, am eu ceva special care te face sa te gandesti la mine, care nu te mai lasa sa raspunzi la alte mesaje... si tu... tu ai ramas asa cum te cunosteam, acelasi zambet frumos, acelasi chip inocent, aceleasi ganduri si atatea amintiri care ne leaga...&lt;br /&gt;  Si eu.. cum ramane cu mine? Se afla cumva rezolvarea tuturor problemelor mele intr-un plic? O voi gasi maine in cutia postala? Sau in tine sta rezolvarea a ceea ce caut eu? Ai putea sa ma inunzi cu iubire? Ai putea sa ma simt asa cum spui ca sunt: frumoasa si speciala? Ai putea sa iti petreci mai mult timp cu mine?&lt;br /&gt;  Ai grija, data viitoare nu voi mai cere nimic... voi inapoia tot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Adu-ti aminte de mine, asa cum fac si eu zilnic si spune-mi ca ma iubesti, chiar daca nu esti sigur de lucrul acesta! Sopteste-mi ca noaptea a fost cea care m-a rapit de langa tine si ca a durat prea mult... Trezeste-ma de dimineata cu un sarut, aprinde-ti o tigara si adu-mi o cafea... cu lapte...&lt;br /&gt; Pana atunci... mai lasa-ma sa visez, sa imi doresc!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-7967420200340087847?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pCrqscQi3AtNWwjaVgLIiSzCgCA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pCrqscQi3AtNWwjaVgLIiSzCgCA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pCrqscQi3AtNWwjaVgLIiSzCgCA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pCrqscQi3AtNWwjaVgLIiSzCgCA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/o4-957dN_bQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/7967420200340087847/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=7967420200340087847&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/7967420200340087847?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/7967420200340087847?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/o4-957dN_bQ/si-daca.html" title="Si daca..." /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SZHZNPf0kgI/AAAAAAAAAak/osd_En1yfkg/s72-c/coffee.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/02/si-daca.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UFQn8zeCp7ImA9WxVVEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-435423887672553056</id><published>2009-02-08T23:09:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T00:13:33.180+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-06T00:13:33.180+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fericire" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="eu tu el" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tox" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="noi2" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cine sunt? cine esti?" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bazdaganie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dorinte" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iubire" /><title>Un gol plin</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SY9XcCDyWgI/AAAAAAAAAac/tc9MtsCbljo/s1600-h/gol+plin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SY9XcCDyWgI/AAAAAAAAAac/tc9MtsCbljo/s320/gol+plin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300551425539070466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si era inca acolo... si parea sa nu stie ce vrea... fixa obiecte si evita sa scoata vreun cuvant. Era absenta si prezenta lui nu o mai intimida. Incerca sa ii demonstreze ca nu a procedat corect si ca recunoasterea greselilor sale ar fi rezolvat toate problemele, insa acele greseli erau doar in mintea lui.&lt;br /&gt;Si in tot timpul petrecut cu el, se gandea la el... Era corect ceea ce ii facea? Merita el ca ea sa fie langa cel care o ranise? Si nu se ajunsese la nicio concluzie... Ii spunea ca i-a fost dor de ea, ca nu i-a facut bine timpul in care ea a stat departe de el. Dar cine stie ce e ala dor?&lt;br /&gt;O tinea in brate si nu voia sa o lase sa plece. Parea sa o surprinda spusele lui si lacrimile incepeau sa curga... si o privea in ochi si ii spunea ca habar n-are ce simte el, ca o iubeste. Si totul a continuat bine, dar... ce avea sa se intample cu el?&lt;br /&gt;Ea nu voia sa incheie celalalt rol din viata ei. Ea era amanta, dar era si iubita. Si iubea si se simtea iubita, dar ce pret avea totul? Statea langa el, dar nu il simtea cu totul... nu era si gandul acolo unde era prezenta. Mai ofta din cand in cand si isi mai aprindea o tigara... si totul parea un vis. Nu se mai vedea langa persoana pe care o iubea, nu credea ca va mai ajunge sa stea in acel loc. Si tragea din tigara aceea de parca era prima fumata in acea zi si il privea... nu el era tot ceea ce vedea... si erau atatea... si nu se putea exprima. lucrurile evoluau si nu o deranja intr-un mod anume. Ce cuvinte? Ce sentimente? Totul se petrecea atunci si acolo! Ce sinceritate? Ce confesiuni? Totul trebuia sa se pastreze doar in mintea ei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vreau sa stai goala, sa dai astia jos! &lt;/span&gt;Dar ea nu se simtea la fel dezgolingdu-si trupul. lumina arata toate imperfectiunile. asta nu era o scuza pentru ca lui ii placea totul. Sanii ei erau frumosi pentru ca, desi erau mici, se potriveau perfect cu inaltimea ei si incapeau perfect in palma lui, fundul ei il fascina, motivul nefiind prea bine cunoscut de aceasta femeie.&lt;br /&gt;Si multe tigari s-au fumat, multe ganduri s-au amestecat, multe dorinte s-au stins/ indeplinit, multe sentimente au reinviat, dar EL... el a ramas tot in gandul ei...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Si mai este si azi. Si a ramas tot iubita si nimic mai mult!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Ea doar iubeste!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-435423887672553056?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/E7JxYQkUrEYGDB36EAfgE1ZlnvM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/E7JxYQkUrEYGDB36EAfgE1ZlnvM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/E7JxYQkUrEYGDB36EAfgE1ZlnvM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/E7JxYQkUrEYGDB36EAfgE1ZlnvM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/DaE4BKTeOTs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/435423887672553056/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=435423887672553056&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/435423887672553056?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/435423887672553056?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/DaE4BKTeOTs/un-gol-plin.html" title="Un gol plin" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SY9XcCDyWgI/AAAAAAAAAac/tc9MtsCbljo/s72-c/gol+plin.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/02/un-gol-plin.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AFR388cSp7ImA9WxVQFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-8209362434288005861</id><published>2009-02-02T20:01:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T22:15:16.179+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-02T22:15:16.179+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="still present" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trairi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="eu tu el" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="still absent" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tox" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="you make me smile" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dorinte" /><title>Oare iubirea contine ceva toxic?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SYdBE97pzNI/AAAAAAAAAaU/n3BjlAG0BqY/s1600-h/ECO0bs432531-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298275040224726226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SYdBE97pzNI/AAAAAAAAAaU/n3BjlAG0BqY/s320/ECO0bs432531-02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nu stiu daca e atat de potrivit titlul, la fel de bine i-as fi putut spune: oare toxic contine ceva iubire? Nu mai conteaza daca sunt sau nu cuvintele inversate sau cum suna mai bine, conteaza doar ca mesajul o sa fie inteles de cine trebuie...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Niciodata nu mi-as fi dorit sa trebuiasca sa renunt la anumite persoane ca mai apoi sa cunosc altele sau sa iubesc diferite persoane, mereu sa o iau de la capat...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E ceva ce nu inteleg totusi... de ce nu pot eu sa fiu indiferenta, sa ma joc cu sentimentele oamenilor, sa fiu libera si sa nu imi pese de nimeni cand rad? de ce sa nu ma imbat si sa alerg prin zapada? de ce sa nu fie si ea langa mine si sa sara in toate gropile pline de apa? de ce sa nu fiu singurul om care rade in metrou? de ce trebuia sa ma controlez cand il aveam o el in stanga mea, desi nu mi-a interzis niciodata nimic? de ce sa nu ma simt eu, mereu sigura pe mine? de ce sa nu stau cu el si sa bem un ceai sau sa ne plimbam prin frig si el sa ma bage in geaca lui? de ce as mai sta sa astept sa dai tu, domnule R., un semn, cand el imi da atatea? de ce sa ma trezesc cu tine in gand, cand ma pot trezi cu el langa? :-??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;de ce nu as face tot ceea ce fac?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Totusi, nu fac parte din Why family, asa ca ar fi cazul sa pun punct aici sirului de intrebari ce vor sa iasa din mintea mea. What you need for me? What are you looking for? Can you buy me with a coffee?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E o invalmaseala de sentimente, un amestec necontrolat de simturi, o avalansa de idei in capsorul asta mic al meu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ce-as face daca intr-o zi mi-ai lua capul in maini si mi-ai striga in ureche cu buzele lui?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;te-as asculta pana la capat...  :)   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;hai mai repede pe mess ca nu mai pot sa astept! imi iese inima din piept, cum mai vrei sa te invat sa iubesti?&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298274787461008370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SYdA2QUFi_I/AAAAAAAAAaM/11Y5m6dkU-M/s320/vama.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-8209362434288005861?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LyBOzc1d1voeTNGh1VjlTmouO-g/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LyBOzc1d1voeTNGh1VjlTmouO-g/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LyBOzc1d1voeTNGh1VjlTmouO-g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LyBOzc1d1voeTNGh1VjlTmouO-g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/KWJKpiM1Mqg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/8209362434288005861/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=8209362434288005861&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/8209362434288005861?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/8209362434288005861?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/KWJKpiM1Mqg/oare-iubirea-contine-ceva-toxic.html" title="Oare iubirea contine ceva toxic?" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SYdBE97pzNI/AAAAAAAAAaU/n3BjlAG0BqY/s72-c/ECO0bs432531-02.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/02/oare-iubirea-contine-ceva-toxic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYARXo8cCp7ImA9WxVQEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-2676691810339675210</id><published>2009-01-29T20:39:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T21:42:24.478+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-29T21:42:24.478+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="no coffee" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ultima rata" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="the end" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bazdaganie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="you make me smile" /><title>zambet fals</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SYIF1itwH0I/AAAAAAAAAaE/-eQwB5grBFs/s1600-h/F2XafI502462-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296802529151033154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SYIF1itwH0I/AAAAAAAAAaE/-eQwB5grBFs/s320/F2XafI502462-02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;   Am inceput sa ma conving din ce in ce mai mult ca totul e trecator... iubirea nu dainuie la nesfarsit, prietenii nu sunt neaparat acele persoane care sunt mereu alaturi de tine, parintii tot mor la un moment dat si noi... noi ne ducem dupa ei... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;   Odata cu inaintarea in varsta, timpul incepe sa treaca mai repede... desi nu am implinit nici macar 20 ani, ma simt ca un om de 50... imi simt ochii grei si sufletul gol... sunt lipsita de chef de viata si nu as vrea sa mai vina ziua de maine... sunt un om lenes, care nu s-ar da jos din pat nici daca ar fi ora 14. sa nu mai spun ca nu imi mai beau nici cafeaua si ca fumez maxim 5 tigari pe zi... am devenit ceva ce nu imi place... m-ai transformat intr-un om trist. te-ai purtat cu mine asa cum se poarta un om indragostit, fara sa mai tinem cont de faptul ca nu esti un adolescent, dar asta nu e un motiv pentru ca iubirea nu tine cont de varsta... mi-ai ajuns la suflet si l-ai modelat asa cum ai vrut tu... in asa fel incat atunci cand vei disparea sa simt un gol imens... Chiar e ciudat ca iubirea nu mai incepe cu R.... stii ce mi se pare oarecum dureros? ca nu pot nici macar sa plang... simt cum ma doare, dar nu pot sa ma manifest in vreun fel...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;hee... dar am un atu... sunt o fire lipicioasa, asa ca nu imi e atat de greu sa simt absenta ta in viata mea... se ataseaza oamenii de mine si isi dau interesul sa ma vada zambind...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;si rad, domnule R.... de cateva zile rad intruna... nu e ca atunci cand radeam amandoi in masina, dar e bine. e bine sa ma caute cineva, sa stea sa vorbeasca cu mine ore in sir pe mess, sa ma sune in fiecare seara cel putin juma de ora... sa primesc cel putin 20 msje pe zi... stii cat de bine ma simt cand ma cauta si zambesc dupa fiecare mesaj primit? stii cat de bine ma simt ca am scapat de toate gandurile negre, de toata indoiala? habar n-ai... oricum va trebui sa ne vedem zilele astea, fortati de imprejurari :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;am mai spus si intr-unul din posturile trecute, sunt convinsa ca voi iubi mereu... sunt un om care nu poate trai fara iubire...&lt;br /&gt;in orice caz, asa cum ti-am scris si tie: iti multumesc, bazdaganie, pt toate momentele in care langa tine m-am simtit speciala si iubita! si iti multumesc si tie, tox, pt ca ma ajuti sa zambesc :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-2676691810339675210?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hUWJRoG65IWk3X3_IMzMIaatu-E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hUWJRoG65IWk3X3_IMzMIaatu-E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FericireInRate/~4/XMovJb-asOk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/feeds/2676691810339675210/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1702420407611255557&amp;postID=2676691810339675210&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/2676691810339675210?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1702420407611255557/posts/default/2676691810339675210?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FericireInRate/~3/XMovJb-asOk/zambet-fals.html" title="zambet fals" /><author><name>MyLastGoodbye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462012518080079357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="21" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SczCiljq3uI/AAAAAAAAAdk/H7y9u8DT1b8/S220/copil-Tudor_VINTILOIU.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JrWiebYchPY/SYIF1itwH0I/AAAAAAAAAaE/-eQwB5grBFs/s72-c/F2XafI502462-02.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com/2009/01/zambet-fals.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMESXw-eCp7ImA9WxVSFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1702420407611255557.post-6365784745872201901</id><published>2009-01-09T21:59:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T10:33:28.250+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-10T10:33:28.250+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="autor prost" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="simt linistea ta in nelinistea mea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="noi2" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cine sunt? cine esti?" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bazdaganie" /><title>cine esti tu?</title><content type="html">oricat de mult incerci sa sustii ca poti sa cunosti pe cineva in totalitate, nu se va intampla asta niciodata. mereu se vor ivi surprize neplacute, ca asta pe care mi-ai facut-o tu mie... trebuia sa iti dai seama ca nu stau prea bine la capitolul asta momentan... totusi, ai facut-o... dar intr-o zi nu o sa mai depind de tine din niciun punct de vedere.&lt;br /&gt; si daca acum plang, mai incolo voi rade, daca acum am numai ganduri, mai tarziu voi avea amintiri, daca acum te iubesc, in viitor imi vei fi indiferent, daca tu poti face ce vrei, la un moment dat voi putea sa fac si eu.&lt;br /&gt;  viata alaturi de tine nu are contur... se vede din departare, dar nu se simte de aproape. ma inalti si imi dai drumul brusc, nu ma lasi sa visez indeajuns... ceea ce simt acum nu imi place... sa fie ura asta? hee... o minune nu tine decat trei zile, zicea cineva... chiar atat a tinut!&lt;br /&gt; am stat singura atatea nopti, te-am asteptat zile intregi, te-am inteles in momentele in care altcineva nu te-ar fi inteles, te iubesc chiar si acum, dar tu... tu ce faci?&lt;br /&gt;mi-ar placea sa iti pot spune totul in fata, sa iti spun ce ma doare, sa iti strig ce ma raneste, sa iti soptesc ce mi-as dori, sa fii langa mine acum si sa imi stergi lacrimile... dar unde esti tu?&lt;br /&gt; esti pierdut in acelasi loc, acel loc care... nici nu imi gasesc cuvintele... nu mai stiu nici ce simt... o sa imi revin, pacat ca mi-am stricat si ziua asta... sau ce a mai ramas din ea, distug toate clipele ramase, irosesc timpul pe lucruri banale si te iubesc in fiecare zi... nu meriti asta!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1702420407611255557-6365784745872201901?l=nolastgoodbye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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