<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846</id><updated>2024-11-01T00:59:43.775-07:00</updated><category term="Love Stories"/><category term="Love Moments"/><category term="Feel Love"/><category term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category term="Love Matters"/><category term="Sad Love Stories"/><category term="Love Letters"/><category term="Love Quotes"/><category term="Love Games"/><category term="Humor Stories"/><title type='text'>Love at a Glance</title><subtitle type='html'>The true blog of LOVE</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-1715565175566573581</id><published>2010-06-21T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:38:14.645-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>A Silent Love</title><content type='html'>From the very Begining, the girl&#39;s family objected                                strongly on her dating this guy. Saying that it                                has got to do with family background &amp;amp; that                                the girl will have to suffer for the rest of her                                life if she were to be with him. &lt;br /&gt;
Due to family&#39;s pressure, the couple quarrel very                                often. Though the girl love the guy deeply, but                                she always ask him: &quot;How deep is your love                                for me?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
As the guy is not good with his words, this often                                cause the girl to be very upset. With that &amp;amp;                                the family&#39;s pressure, the girl often vent her anger                                on him. As for him, he only endure it in silence.&lt;br /&gt;
After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated                                &amp;amp; decided to further his studies in overseas.                                Before leaving, he proposed to the girl: &quot;I&#39;m                                not very good with words. But all I know is that                                I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of                                you for the rest of my life. As for your family,                                I&#39;ll try my best to talk them round. Will you marry                                me?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The girl agreed, &amp;amp; with the guy&#39;s determination,                                the family finally gave in &amp;amp; agreed to let them                                get married. So before he leave, they got engaged.&lt;br /&gt;
The girl went out to the working society, whereas                                the guy was overseas, continuing his studies. They                                sent their love through emails &amp;amp; phone calls.                                Though it&#39;s hard, but both never thought of giving                                up.&lt;br /&gt;
One day, while the girl was on her way to work,                                she was knocked down by a car that lost control.                                When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her                                bed. She realised that she was badly injured. Seeing                                her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she                                realized that all that could come out of her mouth                                was just a sigh. She has lost her voice......&lt;br /&gt;
The doctors says that the impact on her brain has                                caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents&#39;                                comfort, but with nothing coming out from her, she                                broke down.&lt;br /&gt;
During the stay in hospital, besides silence cry,.....it&#39;s                                still just silence cry that companied her. Upon                                reaching home, everything seems to be the same.                                Except for the ringing tone of the phone. Which                                pierced into her heart everytime it rang. She does                                not wish to let the guy know. &amp;amp; not wanting                                to be a burden to him, she wrote a letter to him                                saying that she does not wish to wait any longer.&lt;br /&gt;
With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return,                                the guy sent millions &amp;amp; millions of reply, and                                countless of phonecalls,.. all the girl could do,                                besides crying, is still crying....&lt;br /&gt;
The parents decided to move away, hoping that she                                could eventually forget everything &amp;amp; be happy.&lt;br /&gt;
With a new environment, the girl learn sign language                                &amp;amp; started a new life. Telling herself everyday                                that she must forget the guy. One day, her friend                                came &amp;amp; told her that he&#39;s back. She asked her                                friend not to let him know what happened to her.                                Since then, there wasn&#39;t anymore news of him.&lt;br /&gt;
A year has passed &amp;amp; her friend came with an                                envelope, containing an invitation card for the                                guy&#39;s wedding. The girl was shattered. When she                                open the letter, she saw her name in it instead.When she was about to ask her friend what&#39;s going                                on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He                                used sign language telling her &quot;I&#39;ve spent                                a year&#39;s time to learn sign language. Just to let                                you know that I&#39;ve not forgotten our promise. Let                                me have the chance to be your voice. I Love You.                                With that, he slipped the ring back into her finger.                                The girl finally smiled.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/1715565175566573581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/silent-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/1715565175566573581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/1715565175566573581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/silent-love.html' title='A Silent Love'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-1531686975042147061</id><published>2010-06-21T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:18:05.199-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>The Salty Coffee</title><content type='html'>He met her on a party, she was so outstanding,                                many guys chasing after her,while he was so normal,                                nobody paid attention to him. At the end of the                                party, he invited her to have coffee with him, she                                was surprised, but due to politeness, she promised.                                They sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous                                to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, she thought,                                please, let me back home. Suddenly he asked the                                waiter: would you please give me some salt? I&#39;d                                like to put it in my coffee. &lt;br /&gt;
Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned                                red, but, still, he put the salt in his coffee and                                drank it. She asked him curiously: why you have                                this hobby? He replied: when I was a little boy,                                I was living near the sea, I like playing in the                                sea, I could felt the taste of the sea, salty and                                bite, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now                                every time I have the salty coffee, I will think                                of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my                                hometown so much, I miss my parents who still living                                there. Saying that, tears filled his eyes. She was                                deeply touched. That&#39;s his true feeling, from the                                bottom of his heart.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;A man who can tell out his homesick, he must                                be a man loves home, cares about home, has responsibility                                of home,&quot; she thought. Then she also started                                to talk, talked about her faraway hometown, her                                childhood, her family. That was a really nice talk,                                also a beautiful beginning of their story. They                                continue to date. She found actually he was a man                                who meets all her demands: he was tolerance, kind                                hearted, warm, careful...he was such a good guy                                but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee!&lt;br /&gt;
Then the story was just like every beautiful love                                story: the princess married to the prince, then                                they were living the happy life...And, every time                                she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the                                coffee, as she knew that&#39;s the way he liked.&lt;br /&gt;
After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter                                which said: &quot;My dearest, please forgive me,                                forgive my whole life lie. This was the only lie                                I said to you, the salty coffee. Remember the first                                time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually                                I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It&#39;s hard                                for me to change so I just go ahead. I never thought                                that could be the start of our communication! I                                tried to tell you the truth many times in my life,                                but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised                                not to lie to you for anything..Now I&#39;m dying, I                                afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth: I don&#39;t                                like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste..but                                I have the salty coffee for my whole life since                                I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do                                for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness                                for my whole life.&lt;br /&gt;
If I can live for the second time, I still want                                to know you and have you as my whole life wife,                                even though I have to drink the salty coffee again.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her tears made the letter totally wet. Someday,                                someone asked her: What&#39;s the taste of salty coffee?&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s sweet. She replied.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/1531686975042147061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/salty-coffee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/1531686975042147061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/1531686975042147061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/salty-coffee.html' title='The Salty Coffee'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-2042917866323451085</id><published>2010-06-21T11:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:15:35.703-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Friends Love Story</title><content type='html'>There once was a little girl who had a bad temper.                                Her mother gave her a bag of nails and told her                                that every time she lost her temper, she must hammer                                a nail into the back of the fence. &lt;br /&gt;
The first day the girl had driven 37 nails into                                the fence. Over the next few weeks, as she learned                                to control her anger, the number of nails hammered                                daily gradually dwindled down. She discovered it                                was easier to hold her temper than to drive those                                nails into the fence.&lt;br /&gt;
Finally the day came when the girl didn&#39;t lose                                her temper at all. She told her mother about it                                and the mother suggested that the girl now pull                                out one nail for each day that she was able to hold                                her temper.&lt;br /&gt;
The days passed and the young girl was finally                                able to tell her mother that all the nails were                                gone. The mother took her daughter by the hand and                                led her to the fence. She said, &quot;You have done                                well, my daughter, but look at the holes in the                                fence. The fence will never be the same. When you                                say things in anger, they leave a scar just like                                this one.&quot; You can put a knife in a person                                and draw it out.&lt;br /&gt;
It won&#39;t matter how many times you say I&#39;m sorry,                                the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad                                as a physical one.&lt;br /&gt;
Friends are very rare jewels, indeed. They make                                you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend                                an ear, they share words of praise and they always                                want to open their hearts to us. Hence, treasure                                all your friends and family around you from today!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/2042917866323451085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/friends-love-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2042917866323451085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2042917866323451085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/friends-love-story.html' title='Friends Love Story'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-6472935737014171600</id><published>2010-06-21T11:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:26:04.305-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>My Biggest Fear</title><content type='html'>A teacher gave a journal prompt to her seventh                                grade class asking what their biggest fear was.                                When the class was done writing she asked to hear                                a couple at loud. Most children said things like                                being abducted or dieing or bugs or stuff like that,                                but when she wanted to hear from some one new and                                asked the kid in the back of the class, that never                                speaks, to read what he wrote he said: &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Sometimes when I lye in bed at night while                                my father is off fighting fires somewhere, I&#39;m afraid                                that the floor above him will cave in and I&#39;ll never                                get to see my daddy again. I&#39;m also afraid when                                my mom is off bartending late into the night that                                a man will asult her and she won&#39;t be the same mommy                                I once new. I&#39;m also afraid that my baby sister                                will roll over while she&#39;s sleeping and suffacate                                herself. I lie in bed thinking about this stuff                                every night. That&#39;s why I don&#39;t get annoyed when                                my baby sister cries in the middle of the night,                                or when I see headlights in the drive way at twelve                                O&#39;clock meaning my mom is home late, or when my                                dad calls at eleven because he forgot to say good                                night to me my mom and sister. A top of anything                                else that is my biggest fear.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
When he finished reading his journal he looked                                up to see all of his classmates with tears in their                                eyes he smiled and said &quot;Well...what did you                                expect?&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/6472935737014171600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-biggest-fear.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/6472935737014171600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/6472935737014171600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-biggest-fear.html' title='My Biggest Fear'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-6371703258438212770</id><published>2010-06-21T11:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:13:16.043-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Kindness Pays</title><content type='html'>One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from                                door to door to pay his way through school, found                                he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry.                                He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house.                                However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman                                opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for                                a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so                                brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly,                                and then asked, &quot;How much do I owe you?&quot;                              &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You don&#39;t owe me anything,&quot; she replied.                                &quot;Mother has taught us never to accept payment                                for a kindness.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
He said, &quot;Then I thank you from my heart.&quot;                                As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt                                stronger physically, but his faith in God and man                                was strong also. He had been ready to give up and                                quit.&lt;br /&gt;
Years later that young woman became critically                                ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally                                sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists                                to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was                                called in for the consultation. When he heard the                                name of the town she came from, a strange light                                filled his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the                                hospital to her room. Dressed in his doctor&#39;s gown                                he went in to see her. He recognized her at once.                                He went back to the consultation room determined                                to do his best to save her life. From that day he                                gave special attention to the case.&lt;br /&gt;
After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr.                                Kelly requested the business office to pass the                                final bill to him for approval. He looked at it,                                and then wrote something on the edge and the bill                                was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for                                she was sure it would take the rest of her life                                to pay for it all. Finally, she looked, and something                                caught her attention on the side as she read these                                words...&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Paid in full with one glass of milk. (Signed)                                Dr. Howard Kelly.&quot; Tears of joy flooded her                                eyes as her happy heart prayed: &quot;Thank You,                                GOD, that your love has spread abroad through human                                hearts and hands.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/6371703258438212770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/kindness-pays.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/6371703258438212770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/6371703258438212770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/kindness-pays.html' title='Kindness Pays'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-270667957151711924</id><published>2010-06-21T11:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:12:32.695-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Quotes"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Hold Her Hand</title><content type='html'>A little girl and her father were crossing a bridge.&lt;br /&gt;
The father was kind of scared so he asked his little                                daughter:&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you                                don&#39;t fall into the river.&quot; The little girl                                said:&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;No, Dad. You hold my hand.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What&#39;s the difference?&quot; Asked the puzzled                                father. &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;There&#39;s a big difference,&quot; replied the                                little girl.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;If I hold your hand and something happens                                to me, chances are that I may let your hand go.                                But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no                                matter what happens, you will never let my hand                                go.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
In any relationship, the essence of trust is not                                in its bind, but in its bond. So hold the hand of                                the person whom you love rather than expecting them                                to hold yours...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/270667957151711924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/hold-her-hand.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/270667957151711924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/270667957151711924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/hold-her-hand.html' title='Hold Her Hand'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-4042725730023707697</id><published>2010-06-21T11:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:11:36.417-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Game Story</title><content type='html'>Message: Peter and Tina are sitting in the park                                doing nothing, but just gazing into the sky, while                                all their friends are having fun with their beloved                                half.&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: I&#39;m so bored. Just wish I have a boyfriend                                now to spend time with.&lt;br /&gt;
Peter: I guess we&#39;re the only leftovers. We&#39;re the                                only person who isn&#39;t with a date now.&lt;br /&gt;
(both sigh n silence for a while)&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: I think I have a good idea. Lets play a game&lt;br /&gt;
Peter: Eh? What game?&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: Eem..It&#39;s quite simple. You be my boyfriend                                for 100 days and I&#39;ll be your girlfriend for 100                                days. what do you think?&lt;br /&gt;
Peter: Oookay..Anyway I don&#39;t have any plan for                                the next few months.&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: You sound like you aren&#39;t looking forward                                to it at all. Cheer up. Today will be our first                                day and our first date. Where should we go?&lt;br /&gt;
Peter: What about a movie? I heard that there is                                a really great movie in theater now.&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: Seems like I don&#39;t have any better idea than                                this. Lets move. (went to watch their movies and                                sent each other home) &lt;br /&gt;
Day 2:&lt;br /&gt;
Peter and Tina went to a concert together, and Peter                                bought Tina a keychain with a star.&lt;br /&gt;
Day 3:&lt;br /&gt;
They went shopping together for a friend&#39;s birthday                                present. Share an ice-cream together and hugged                                each other for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;
Day 7:&lt;br /&gt;
Peter drove Tina up onto a mountain and they watch                                the sunset together. When the night came and the                                moon glowed, they said sat on the grass gazing at                                the stars together. A meteor passed by. Tina mumbled                                something.&lt;br /&gt;
Day 25:&lt;br /&gt;
Spend time at a themepark and got onto rollercoasters,                                and ate hotdogs and cotton candy. Peter and Tina                                got in the haunted house and Tina grabbed someone&#39;s                                hand instead of Peter&#39;s hand by accident. They laughed                                together&lt;br /&gt;
for a while.&lt;br /&gt;
Day 67:&lt;br /&gt;
They drove pass a circus and decided to get in to                                watch the show. The midget asked Tina to play a                                part as his assistant in the magic show. Went around                                to see other entertainments around after the show.                                Came to a fortune teller and she just said &quot;Treasure                                every moment from now on&quot; and a tear rolled                                down the fortune teller&#39;s cheek.&lt;br /&gt;
Day 84:&lt;br /&gt;
Tina suggested that they go to the beach. The beach                                wasn&#39;t so crowded that day. They have their first                                kiss with each other just as the sun is setting.&lt;br /&gt;
Day 99:&lt;br /&gt;
They decided to have a simple day and is deciding                                to have a walk around the city. They sits down onto                                a bench.&lt;br /&gt;
1:23 pm&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: I&#39;m thirsty. Lets rest for a while first.&lt;br /&gt;
Peter: Wait here while I go buy some drinks. What                                would you like?&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: Eem...Apple juice will be just fine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1:43 pm&lt;br /&gt;
Tina waiting for about 20 minutes and Peter havent                                return. Then someone walked up to her.&lt;br /&gt;
Stranger: Is your name Tina?&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: Yes, and may I help you?&lt;br /&gt;
Stranger: Just now down there on the street a drunk                                driver has crashed into a guy. I think its your                                friend.&lt;br /&gt;
Tina ran over to the spot with the stranger and                                sees Peter lying on the floor with blood over his                                face and her apple juice still in his hands. The                                ambulance came and she went to the hospital with                                Peter. Tina sat outside the emergency room for five                                and a half hours. The doctor came out, and he sigh.&lt;br /&gt;
11:51 pm&lt;br /&gt;
Doctor: I&#39;m sorry, but we did the best we could.                                He is still breathing now but God would take him                                away from us very soon. We found this letter inside                                his pocket.&lt;br /&gt;
The doctor hands over the letter to Tina and she                                goes into the room to see Peter. He look weak but                                peaceful. Tina read the letter and then she burst                                into tears. Here is what the letter said.&lt;br /&gt;
Tina,&lt;br /&gt;
Our 100 days is almost over. I had fun with you                                during all these days. Although you may be greedy                                sometimes and less thoughtful, but these all brought                                happiness into my life. I have realize that you                                are a really cute girl and blamed myself for never                                taken the time to knowing that. I have nothing much                                to ask for, but I just wish that we can extend the                                day. I want to be your boyfriend forever and wish                                that you can be beside me all the time. Tina, I                                love you.&lt;br /&gt;
11:58&lt;br /&gt;
Tina: (sobbing) Peter. Did you know what was the                                wish I made on the night there was a meteor. I asked                                God to let us last forever. We were suppose to last                                100 days so Peter! You can&#39;t leave me! I LOVE YOU,                                but can you come back to&lt;br /&gt;
me now? I love you Peter. I LOVE YOU.&lt;br /&gt;
As the clock struck twelve, Peter&#39;s heart stopped                                beating. It was 100 days.&lt;br /&gt;
NOTE*&lt;br /&gt;
Tell the guy or girl that you love them before&lt;br /&gt;
its too late. You never know whats going to&lt;br /&gt;
happen tomorrow. You never know who will be&lt;br /&gt;
leaving you and never return</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/4042725730023707697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/game-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4042725730023707697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4042725730023707697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/game-story.html' title='Game Story'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-3171406900159645396</id><published>2010-06-21T11:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:10:43.885-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Gift of Love</title><content type='html'>The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically                                as the attractive young woman with the white cane                                made her way carefully up t\he steps. She paid the                                driver and, using her hands to feel the location                                of the seats, walked down the aisle and found the                                seat he&#39;d told her was empty. Then she settled in,                                placed her briefcase on her lap and rested her cane                                against her leg. &lt;br /&gt;
It had been a year since Susan, 34, became blind.                                Due to a medical misdiagnosis she had been rendered                                sightless, and she was suddenly thrown into a world                                of darkness, anger, frustration and self-pity. And                                all she had to cling to was her husband, Mark.&lt;br /&gt;
Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved Susan                                with all his heart. When she first lost her sight,                                he watched her sink into despair and was determined                                to help his wife gain the strength and confidence                                she needed to become independent again.&lt;br /&gt;
Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job,                                but how would she get there? She used to take the                                bus, but was now too frightened to get around the                                city by herself. Mark volunteered to drive her to                                work each day, even though they worked at opposite                                ends of the city. At first, this comforted Susan,                                and fulfilled Mark&#39;s need to protect his sightless                                wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest                                task.&lt;br /&gt;
Soon, however, Mark realized the arrangement wasn&#39;t                                working. Susan is going to have to start taking                                the bus again, he admitted to himself. But she was                                still so fragile, so angry - how would she react?                                Just as he predicted, Susan was horrified at the                                idea of taking the bus again.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I&#39;m blind!&quot;, she responded bitterly.                                &quot;How am I supposed to know where I am going?                                I feel like you&#39;re abandoning me.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Mark&#39;s heart broke to hear these words, but he                                knew what had to be done. He promised Susan that                                each morning and evening he would ride the bus with                                her, for as long as it took, until she got the hang                                of it. And that is exactly what happened. For two                                solid weeks, Mark, military uniform and all, accompanied                                Susan to and from work each day.&lt;br /&gt;
He taught her how to rely on her other senses,                                specifically her hearing, to determine where she                                was and how to adapt to her new environment. He                                helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch                                out for her, and save her a seat.&lt;br /&gt;
Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try                                the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and                                before she left, she threw her arms around Mark,                                her temporary bus-riding companion, her husband,                                and her best friend. Her eyes filled with tears                                of gratitude for his loyalty, his patience, And                                his love. She said good-bye, and for the first time,                                they went their separate ways. Monday, Tuesday,                                Wednesday, Thursday... Each day on her own went                                perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. She                                was doing it! She was going to work all by herself.&lt;br /&gt;
On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as                                usual. As she was paying the fare to exit the bus,                                the driver said, &quot;Boy, I sure do envy you.&quot;                                Susan wasn&#39;t sure if the driver was speaking to                                her or not. After all, who on earth would ever envy                                a blind woman who had struggled just to find the                                courage to live for the past year? Curious, she                                asked the driver, &quot;Why do you say that you                                envy me?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The driver responded, &quot;It must feel good to                                be taken care of and protected like you are.&quot;                                Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about,                                and again asked, &quot;What do you mean?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The driver answered, &quot;You know, every morning                                for the past week, a fine-looking gentleman in a                                military uniform has been standing across the corner                                watching you as you get off the bus. He makes sure                                you cross the street safely and he watches until                                you enter your office building.Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute                                and walks away. You are one lucky lady.&quot; Tears                                of happiness poured down Susan&#39;s cheeks. For although                                she couldn&#39;t physically see him, she had always                                felt Mark&#39;s presence. She was lucky, so lucky, for                                he had given her a gift more powerful than sight,                                a gift she didn&#39;t need to see to believe - the gift                                of love that can bring light where there is darkness.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/3171406900159645396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/gift-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/3171406900159645396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/3171406900159645396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/gift-of-love.html' title='Gift of Love'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-106862045398836965</id><published>2010-06-21T11:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:09:39.548-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Roses</title><content type='html'>Sophie&#39;s face faded into the gray winter light                                of the sitting room. She dozed in the armchair that                                Joe had bought for her on their fortieth anniversary.                                The room was warm and quiet. Outside it was snowing                                lightly. &lt;br /&gt;
At a quarter past one the mailman turned the corner                                onto Allen Street. He was behind on his route, not                                because of the snow, but because it was Valentine&#39;s                                Day and there was more mail than usual. He passed                                Sophie&#39;s house without looking up. Twenty minutes                                later he climbed back into his truck and drove off.&lt;br /&gt;
Sophie stirred when she heard the mail truck pull                                away, then took off her glasses and wipe her mouth                                and eyes with the handkerchief she always carried                                in her sleeve. She pushed herself up using the arm                                of the chair for support, straightened slowly and                                smoothed the lap of her dark green housedress.&lt;br /&gt;
Her slippers made a soft, shuffling sound on the                                bare floor as she walked to the kitchen. She stopped                                at the sink to wah the two dishes she had left on                                the counter after lunch. Then she filled a plastic                                cup halfway with water and took her pills. It was                                one forty-five.&lt;br /&gt;
There was a rocker in the sitting room by the front                                window. Sophie eased herself into it. In a half-hour                                the children would be passing by on their way home                                from school. Sophie waited, rocking and watching                                the snow.&lt;br /&gt;
The boys came first, as always, runnng and calling                                out things Sophie could not hear. Today they were                                making snowball as they went, throwing them at one                                another. One snowball missed and smackd hard into                                Sophie&#39;s window. She jerked backward, and the rocker                                slipped off the edge of her oval rag rug.&lt;br /&gt;
The girl dilly-dallied after the boys, in twos                                and threes, cupping their mittened hands over their                                mouths and giggling. Sophie wonder if they were                                telling each other about the valentines they had                                received at school. One pretty girl with long brown                                hair stopped and pointed to her face behind the                                drapes, suddenly self-consious.&lt;br /&gt;
When she looked out again, the boys and girls were                                gone. It was cold by the window, but she stayed                                there watching the snow conver the children&#39;s footprints&lt;br /&gt;
A florist&#39;s truck turned onto Allen Street. Sophie                                followed it with her eyes. It was moving slowly.                                Twice it stopped and started again. Then the driver                                pulled up in front of Mrs. Mason&#39;s house next door                                and parked.Who would be sending Mrs. Mason flowers?                                Sophie wondered. Her daughter in Wisconsin? Or her                                brother? No, her brother was very ill. It was probably                                her daughter. How nice of her.&lt;br /&gt;
Flowers made Sophie think of Joe and, for a moment,                                she let the aching memory fill her. Tomorrow was                                the fifteenth. Eight months since his death.&lt;br /&gt;
The flower mans was knocking at Mrs. Mason&#39;s front                                door. He carried a long white and green box and                                a clipboard. No one seemed to be answering. Of course!                                It was Friday - Mrs. Mason quilted at the church                                on Friday afternoons. the delivery man looked around,                                then started toward Sophie&#39;s house.&lt;br /&gt;
Sophie shoved herself out of the rocker and stood                                close to the drapes. The man knocked. Her hands                                trembled as she straightened her hair. She reached                                her front hall on the third knock.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes?&quot; she said, peering around a slightly                                opened door. &quot;Good afternoon, ma&#39;am,&quot;                                the man said loudly. &quot;Would you take a delivery                                for your neighbor?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes,&quot; Sophie answered, pulling the door                                wide open. &quot;Where would you like me to put                                them?&quot; the man asked politely as he strode                                in.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;In the kitchen, please. On the table.&quot;                                The man looked big to Sophie. She could hardly see                                his face between his green cap and full beard. Sophie                                was glad he left quickly, and she locked the door                                after him.&lt;br /&gt;
The box was as long as the kitchen table. Sophie                                drew near to it and bent over to read the lettering:                                &quot;NATALIE&#39;S Flowers for Every Occasion.&quot;                                The rich smell of roses engulfed her. She closed                                her eyes and took slower breaths, imagining yellow                                roses. Joe had always chosen yellow. &quot;To my                                sunshine,&quot; he would say, presenting the extravagant                                bouquet. He would laugh delightedly, kiss her on                                the forehead, then take her hands in his and sing                                to her &quot;You Are My Sunshine.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s was five o&#39;clock when Mrs. Mason knocked at                                Sophie&#39;s front door. Sophie was still at the kitchen                                table. The flower box was now open though, and she                                held the roses on her lap, swaying slightly and                                stroking the delicate yellow petals. Mrs. Mason                                knocked again, but Sophie did not hear her, and                                after several minutes the neighbour left.&lt;br /&gt;
Sophie rose a little while later, laying the flowers                                on the kitchen table. Her cheeks were flushed. She                                dragged a stepstool across the kitchen floor and                                lifted a white porcelain vase from the top corner                                cabinet. Using a drinking glass, she filled the                                vase with water, then tenderly arranged the roses                                and greens, and carried them into the sitting room.&lt;br /&gt;
She was smiling as she reached the middle of the                                room. She turned slightly and began to dip and twirl                                in small slow circles. She stepped lightly, gracefully,                                around the sitting room, into the kitchen, down                                the hall, back again. She danced till her knees                                grew weak, and then she dropped into the armchair                                and slept.&lt;br /&gt;
At a quarter past six, Sophie awoke with a start.                                Someone was knocking on the back door this time.                                It was Mrs. Mason.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hello, Sophie,&quot; Mrs. Mason said. &quot;How                                are you? I knocked at five and was a little worried                                when you didn&#39;t come. Were you napping?&quot; She                                chattered as she wiped her snowy boots on the welcome                                mat and stepped inside. &quot;I just hate snow,                                don&#39;t you? The radio says we might have six inches                                by midnight, but you can never trust them, you know.                                Do you remember last winter when they predicted                                four inches, and we hand twenty-one? Twenty-one!                                And they said we&#39;d have a mild winter this year.                                Ha! I don&#39;t think it&#39;s been over zero in weeks.                                Do you know my oil bill was $263 last month? For                                my little house!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Sophie was only half-listening. She had remembered                                the roses suddenly and was turning hot with shame.                                The empty flower box was behind her on the kitchen                                table. What would she say to Mrs. Mason?&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I don&#39;t know how much longer I can keep paying                                the bills. If only Alfred, God bless him, had been                                as careful with money as your Joseph. Joseph! Oh,                                good heavens! I almost forgot about the roses.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Sophie&#39;s cheeks burned. She began to stammer an                                apology, stepping aside to reveal the empty box.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Oh, good,&quot; Mrs. Mason interrupted. &quot;You                                put the roses in water. Then you saw the card. I                                hope it didn&#39;t startle your to see Joseph&#39;s handwriting.                                Joseph had asked me to bring you the roses the first                                year, so I could explain for him. He didn&#39;t want                                to alarm you. His &#39;Rose Trust,&#39; I think he called                                it. He arranged it with the florist last Apirl.                                Such a good man, your Joseph...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
But Sophie had stopped listening. Her heart was                                pounding as she picked up the small white envelope                                she had missed earlier. It had been lying beside                                the flower box all this time. With trembling hands,                                she removed the card.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;To my sunshine,&quot; it said. &quot;I love                                you with all my heart. Try to be happy when you                                think of me. Love, Joe.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/106862045398836965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/roses.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/106862045398836965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/106862045398836965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/roses.html' title='Roses'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-7188487968097760803</id><published>2010-06-21T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:08:23.279-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Only Love</title><content type='html'>t&#39;s a cold February night. People are bustling                                through the streets, either pulling up their coat                                collars or wrapping scarves around their necks,                                trying to stay warm.                              &lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s so cold today.I&#39;m standing at my window, looking                                at the people moving like little dots. Standing                                in a heated room, I&#39;m beginning to pity those people.                                Why don&#39;t they go home? Do they plan on wandering                                until morning?&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Almost time to go home! My boyfriend must                                be going crazy.&quot; One of the nurses breathe                                a sign of relief. &quot;Still needs to work overtime                                on Valentine&#39;s Day. It&#39;s so unfair!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You are fortunate.&quot; Another nurse says.                                &quot;Some people don&#39;t have anyone waiting for                                them.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You mean Dr. Shu?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Like Sherlock Holmes, my ears perk up when I hear                                my name.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Do you remember how she lost control on this                                day last year?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Of course I do.&quot; A nurse shudders. &quot;I&#39;ve                                never seen Dr. Shu like that. Crying and yelling,                                like she was crazy.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
They are talking about how I was last year. They                                are correct. I was out of control, like they said.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You can&#39;t blame Dr. Shu. If my boyfriend died                                in front of my eyes, I would probably go crazy as                                well.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Keep it down. She hasn&#39;t left work yet. She                                might hear you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The two nurses are too late. I heard the entire                                conversation through the canvas wall.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Dr. Shu, what are you doing standing here?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Just as I was deciding whether or not to reveal                                myself, another nurse exposed me. I awkwardly step                                out. The 2 nurses who discussed me start to blush.                                Their faces became redder than the bow on Valentine&#39;s                                Day chocolates.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I&#39;m waiting to go home.&quot; I pretend that                                I didn&#39;t hear anything.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Dr. Shu, you must have gotten too involved                                in your work. It&#39;s already past time to go home.                                See you tomorrow. Happy Valentine&#39;s Day!&quot; She                                waves goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Happy Valentine&#39;s Day.&quot; I wave back                                and watch the 2 nurses hurry away.&lt;br /&gt;
That&#39;s fine. I was ready to go home anyway. Even                                though no lover is waiting&lt;br /&gt;
for me, at least there&#39;s a lazy cat waiting for                                me to feed.&lt;br /&gt;
After I come home, the first thing I do is feed                                the cat. I forgot when I first had the cat. Probably                                since last year&#39;s Valentine&#39;s Day. At that time,                                I was like an abandoned cat, with eyes filled with                                despair. Cats don&#39;t cry, I do. That&#39;s the only difference.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Better drink all the milk or I&#39;ll skin you.&quot;                                I threatened the cat. Her name is Christine, my                                least favorite English name. I don&#39;t know why I                                named the cat Christine. Christine meowed once to                                let me know she heard me, but her eyes are complaining                                about my severity. Her eyes remind me of someone                                I used to know, standing in front of me with eyes                                of rebellions.&lt;br /&gt;
An year ago today, I had lunch with my boyfriend                                and took the opportunity to complain to him.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Today is Valentine&#39;s Day. Why didn&#39;t you                                give me any flowers?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
He raised his eyebrow. &quot;Why should I give                                you flowers? You are not my anyone.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Then... you should at least give me a card!&quot;                                I pouted my lips, hurt by his tone.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I know, I know. After lunch, I&#39;ll send you                                an e-card.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
E-card. That sounds so impersonal, but that&#39;s the                                way he is. &quot;You have to e-mail it to me. I&#39;ll                                be waiting.&quot; I excitedly smiled and planned                                to sneak home after lunch to check e-mail. Even                                though he wouldn&#39;t use any romantic words, I still                                looked forward to the card.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I can&#39;t stand you women. Why do you make                                such a big deal out of Valentine&#39;s Day??&quot; He                                grumbled while eating his food. His comment induced                                me to fight with him again.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You are not romantic at all!! Don&#39;t you watch                                any Japanese drama?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Japanese drama? I only watch Discovery Channel.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Your life is so boring.&quot; I made a face                                at him. &quot;One recent drama was really good.                                You should have watched it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What&#39;s that drama called?&quot; He didn&#39;t                                believe in the love portrayed in TV and movies.                                He always thought they were lies.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;It&#39;s called &#39;Story of A Century&#39;.&quot; I                                gladly answered.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What kind of trashy plot did it have?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What do you mean trash?? Show some respect!&quot;                                I was so angry. &quot;That drama was very touching,                                and the theme song was beautiful as well. It&#39;s called                                &#39;Only Love&#39;, performed by Nana Mouskouri.&quot;                                I wonder if he knew who Nana was. &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Nana, I know her. A Greek singer with really                                expensive albums.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Her voice is worth it.&quot; Even though                                I secretly agreed with him, I couldn&#39;t bring myself                                to admit it.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Whatever.&quot; He glanced at his watch.                                &quot;I&#39;ll give you 5 minutes to tell me the plot.                                After that, I&#39;m leaving.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I tried hard to explain 6 hours worth of story                                in just 5 minutes. The drama portrayed the love                                stories of 3 generations of women spanning 100 years,                                from 1901 to 2000. Each generation was portrayed                                by the same actress. The story was tear-jerking.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What&#39;s so touching about it?&quot; He asked,                                after listening to the story.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Don&#39;t you think each generation&#39;s story is                                wonderful? If I have such great screen writing ability,                                I wouldn&#39;t be a doctor anymore. I would become a                                screenwriter.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;If you become a screenwriter, I bet no one                                would watch the show. The TV station can go out                                of business.&quot; He quickly interjected.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I&#39;m going back to work. Hurry and send me                                the card!&quot; I was so mad that I went home immediately,                                not even finishing my coffee.&lt;br /&gt;
As soon as I walked in my door, I turned on my                                computer and go online.&lt;br /&gt;
Staring at the empty in-box, I began to reminisce                                about how we met. Maybe no one will believe me,                                but my boyfriend and I were actually neighbors.                                Our homes were only 1 wall away. Ever since we were                                kids, we liked to fight with each other all day                                long. I still remember when I moved to the country                                that year. Used to the city life, I couldn&#39;t get                                used to the simple life in the country. After school,                                I would just go home and do nothing. Whenever that                                happened, he would always come over to tease me.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Why are you staring off into space??&quot;                                He loved to pull on my hair. &quot;You&#39;re so ugly                                when you&#39;re doing nothing. But you&#39;re also not pretty                                when you smile.&quot; In other words, I&#39;m really                                ugly.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You&#39;re the one who&#39;s ugly!&quot; I pull back                                my hair. &quot;If you think I&#39;m so ugly, why do                                you visit me??&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Can&#39;t help it. My home is right next to your                                home.&quot; He argued.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Then I&#39;ll move!&quot; The next day, I drew                                a line in the ground using some white chalk. A line                                that I forbid him to cross.&lt;br /&gt;
That year, we were both in the 5th grade. We couldn&#39;t                                stand each other and hoped the other would move                                away. But 5 years passed, and neither of us moved.                                Not only that, we got into the same high school                                and into the same class.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You&#39;re that infamous couple.&quot; All the                                students and teachers in the school would say whenever                                they saw us.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;We&#39;re not!&quot; I always tried to explain.                                &quot;We&#39;re only neighbors.&quot; At that time,                                I hated my parents for making us live next to him.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;My standard is not that low.&quot; He would                                say. &quot;Who wants her to be a girlfriend?? It&#39;s                                not like I don&#39;t have eyes.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes, I know your eyes are on top of your                                head.&quot; I really disliked him. &quot;Better                                than having eyes on the bottom of my head like you.&quot;                                He implied that I couldn&#39;t judge guys. At that time,                                I had a crush on a senior.&lt;br /&gt;
I didn&#39;t think that his sarcasm had a hidden meaning.                                After a while, I found out that the senior student                                had lots of girlfriends. When I cried about it,                                he silently passed me a handkerchief and awkwardly                                held me in his arms.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I told you he wasn&#39;t any good.&quot; He roughly                                comforted me. I cried in his arms the whole night,                                and began to see him in a different way. Things                                began to change between us. We still fought all                                the time, but he started to look at me differently.                                And I blushed and my heart beat faster when he was                                near. We both knew: we fell in love with each other.&lt;br /&gt;
Even with this knowledge, neither of us said anything.                                Even though we would not be able to resist and kissed                                each other constantly. Even though we cared about                                each other&#39;s every moves. Both of us refused to                                admit our love. &lt;br /&gt;
Time flew by quickly, and it was time to face separation.                                I chose to study medicine, and he chose physics.                                Yet we still couldn&#39;t separate from each other.                                Our parents worried that we didn&#39;t know anyone in                                Taipei, so they forced us to live in the same apartment                                building. Once again, we became neighbors. We still                                fought, but sometimes we fought into the bedroom.                                Alright, we became lovers, but we still wouldn&#39;t                                say we loved each other. We didn&#39;t even spend Valentine&#39;s                                Day together until he saw me share dinner with a                                man one Valentine&#39;s Day. That night, he waited for                                me in front of my door and said that he would take                                me out to dinner on Valentine&#39;s Day from then on.                                I have to say that he was very arrogant. But I nodded                                and accepted his request. Since then, we spent every                                Valentine&#39;s Day together. After graduation, I became                                an intern. He started a small computer company with                                some friends and became a programmer. We were busy                                with our own lives and had no time for a relationship.                                Three years later, I became a doctor, and his business                                began to boom. We separately moved to bigger&lt;br /&gt;
apartments and stopped being neighbors. On the surface,                                we left each other. In reality, we were still together.                                We spent every Valentine&#39;s Day together but each                                year became more dreary than the next because he                                never told me he loved me even with all my hints.                              &lt;br /&gt;
Facing the empty in-box, I suddenly grew very angry.                              He wouldn&#39;t say it and wouldn&#39;t send me a card. What                              did he mean? Who did he think I was? I called his                              cell phone.                              &quot;Hello.&quot; He picked up the phone.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I didn&#39;t receive the card.&quot; I immediately                                showed my displeasure.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You didn&#39;t receive it?&quot; He seemed really                                busy. &quot;But I sent it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
He was really busy but I didn&#39;t care. &quot;I didn&#39;t                                receive it. Send it again.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Okay, I&#39;ll send you 100 times. Is that good                                enough??&quot; He said with impatience. His tone                                further infuriated me. Is that how lovers speak                                to each other?&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Don&#39;t bother sending it to me. And you don&#39;t                                have to pick me up tonight.&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ll eat dinner by myself.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Don&#39;t be childish, ok? I&#39;m really busy.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I AM childish!&quot; I hung up the phone                                and tears rolled down my cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;
Childish?? Why didn&#39;t he consider the situation?                                We&#39;ve gone out for so many years and spent countless                                Valentine&#39;s Day together. I never received any flowers                                nor cards from him. Now, I just want a little e-card.                                Is that too much to ask for??&lt;br /&gt;
I unplugged the phone from the wall and turned                                off my cell phone. I didn&#39;t want to hear his explanations.                                After I returned to the hospital, I instructed the                                receptionist not to forward me any phone calls.                                I wanted to concentrate on work.&lt;br /&gt;
Because there were so many emergencies today, I was                              sweating 1 hour later and forgot about our argument.                              &quot;Dr. Shu, please take a look at that patient.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
As I was collecting my equipment, the shrill sound                                of an ambulance sounded outside the ER. When I stepped                                out the door, the emergency medics hurriedly wheeled                                in a gurney.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What happened to him?&quot; I asked the 1st                                medic. Everyone else were trying to help put the                                patient on the gurney. He was covered with blood.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Car accident.&quot; The medic replied. &quot;Very                                serious. He may die.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I nodded and ran to the operating room with them.                                When I arrived, the nurses told me that the man                                had already stopped breathing and also his heartbeat                                also stopped&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Prepare for shock.&quot; I calmly instructed                                the nurses. Saving people is our duty. We can&#39;t                                lose our calm.&lt;br /&gt;
But when I saw who laid on the operating table,                                I lost my calm. That person was my boyfriend!&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;No...&quot; I stood in shock. &quot;NO!!!&quot;                                I grabbed the paddles and continuously shocked his                                body. His body bounced up and down from the shocks.                                The scared nurses went to find another doctor, to                                tell him that I was crazy.&lt;br /&gt;
I didn&#39;t know if I was crazy or not. I just wanted                                to save my lover. Even though we fought all the                                time. Even though he never showed me his love. I                                still wanted to save him. He still owed me a card.                                He couldn&#39;t die! I threw away the paddles and began                                to press on his heart. I pressed with all my strength,                                hoping it would revive him, but he didn&#39;t wake up.                                He didn&#39;t even say &quot;It hurts&quot;. He just                                laid there with his eyes closed, punishing me with                                his silence.Dr. Jian angrily pushed me away. By that time, I couldn&#39;t                              see clearly anymore. I cried. I wailed. I bowled until                              no sounds could come out of my mouth.                              &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;It&#39;s too late, Dr. Shu. He&#39;s already dead.                                I&#39;m sorry.&quot; Dr. Jian patted me on the shoulder.                                They knew each other and ate together once. I introduced                                them.&lt;ins style=&quot;border: medium none; display: inline-table; height: 600px; margin: 0pt; padding: 0pt; position: relative; visibility: visible; width: 160px;&quot;&gt;&lt;ins style=&quot;border: medium none; display: block; height: 600px; margin: 0pt; padding: 0pt; position: relative; visibility: visible; width: 160px;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe allowtransparency=&quot;true&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;600&quot; hspace=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;google_ads_frame2&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; name=&quot;google_ads_frame&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?client=ca-pub-3002194721507739&amp;amp;output=html&amp;amp;h=600&amp;amp;slotname=1199287521&amp;amp;w=160&amp;amp;lmt=1264841750&amp;amp;flash=10.0.22&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.romancequote.com%2FRomanticStories2III.htm&amp;amp;dt=1277143643831&amp;amp;shv=r20100607&amp;amp;prev_slotnames=5911725332&amp;amp;correlator=1277143641409&amp;amp;frm=0&amp;amp;adk=1982498883&amp;amp;ga_vid=2129295376.1277143644&amp;amp;ga_sid=1277143644&amp;amp;ga_hid=1117494740&amp;amp;ga_fc=0&amp;amp;u_tz=300&amp;amp;u_his=20&amp;amp;u_java=1&amp;amp;u_h=768&amp;amp;u_w=1024&amp;amp;u_ah=738&amp;amp;u_aw=1024&amp;amp;u_cd=32&amp;amp;u_nplug=21&amp;amp;u_nmime=111&amp;amp;biw=1007&amp;amp;bih=584&amp;amp;ref=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.romancequote.com%2FRomanticStories2II.htm&amp;amp;fu=0&amp;amp;ifi=2&amp;amp;dtd=31&amp;amp;xpc=iAQL6Oj8kP&amp;amp;p=http%3A//www.romancequote.com&quot; style=&quot;left: 0pt; position: absolute; top: 0pt;&quot; vspace=&quot;0&quot; width=&quot;160&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/ins&gt;&lt;/ins&gt;                                                                                                           &lt;img height=&quot;2&quot; src=&quot;http://www.romancequote.com/Adline2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;340&quot; /&gt;                                                                                                                   &lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;He can&#39;t die.&quot; I shook my head. &quot;He                                can&#39;t die!!&quot; I struggled to run to him. &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Dr. Shu, control yourself!&quot; Dr. Jian                                slapped me. &quot;I understand what you&#39;re going                                through, but you&#39;re a doctor.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, I&#39;m a doctor, but I&#39;m also a regular person.                                How can Dr. Jian understand how I feel? I&#39;ve loved                                him for so many years that it&#39;s become a habit.                                How can I just throw away a habit? Besides, he still                                owed me a card. &quot;I want him to live! I want                                him to live!&quot; I ran to him again and tried                                to knock the life back into his body.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Take her away!&quot; That day, I lost my control                              and my professionalism.                              And that day happened to be Valentine&#39;s Day.&lt;br /&gt;
Afterwards, I asked his co-workers why he left                                work early that day.&lt;br /&gt;
They told me that after I hung up the phone, he                                tried to call me several times but couldn&#39;t reach                                me. Worried, he drove to the hospital to find me                                and got hit by a large truck on the way.&lt;br /&gt;
When I heard this, I froze. My tantrum killed him.                                Just because of an unmailed card, he died. After                                that, I lost my privilege to be childish.&lt;br /&gt;
Like an abandoned cat, I couldn&#39;t even cry anymore.                                After his death, I couldn&#39;t cry anymore, regardless                                of how touching the plot or how tear-jerking the                                dialogue. They didn&#39;t affect me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;
Now, I&#39;m only left with a cat and a seldomly used                                computer. Stepping over the cat, I turned on the                                computer. Even though I know no one will send me                                a mail, I still hoped that someone will remember                                me on this day.&lt;br /&gt;
Meow, meow. I looked at Christine to see what&#39;s                                wrong. She finished her milk. I went into the kitchen                                to get her more milk then came back to look at the                                computer screen.&lt;br /&gt;
I have.... 100 emails! Who would be bored enough to                              send me 100 junk mail?                              I was just about to delete them all when I received                                another mail, and this one said: &quot;Because of                                system error, we could not send these until today.&lt;br /&gt;
We apologize for the delay.&quot; The sender was                                my ISP.&lt;br /&gt;
I looked at the 1st mail. It showed the send date                                is last year&#39;s Valentine&#39;s Day. My heart began to                                beat fast. Could he have sent these?&lt;br /&gt;
With a trembling hand, I opened the mail. The first                                thing that popped up was a gorgeous red rose set                                against green leaves. Then a beautiful melody began                                to play.... &quot;Only Love&quot;. I couldn&#39;t believe                                it. The rose was so beautiful and the music was                                so dreamy. I almost thought I was in a fantasy.                                Most touching of all were the words underneath the                                rose, because the words read like a beautiful poem.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hwei.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
That&#39;s my name.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Knowing you so many years, I&#39;ve never sent                                you any flowers. Today I send you a rose.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I received it and it&#39;s so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You know we are always fighting. We can never                                really open our hearts and tell each other how we                                feel.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, but it&#39;s all your fault for being so distant.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I know I always make you mad by the things                                I say.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Good that you&#39;re admitting it.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;But today I want to say to you: I&#39;m sorry,                                and I love you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I waited so many years for those words.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;And I want to tell you a good news. I finally                                saved enough money.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
You already have enough money. Why did you need                                so much?&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;So Hwei, let&#39;s get married!! I was afraid                                to propose to you, because I didn&#39;t trust in my                                ability to give you the good life you deserve. But                                now I&#39;ve saved enough money so we don&#39;t have to                                wait anymore.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Who wanted you to wait? I&#39;m already yours.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Today, I use this card to propose to you.                                Will you marry me, Hwei? Will you?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
That&#39;s the content of the whole card. Like a fool,                                I kept reading his words and talking to him. It&#39;s                                like I can hear his voice and see him again.&lt;br /&gt;
As if it&#39;s back to 1 year ago with us constantly                                fighting.&lt;br /&gt;
The song played over and over. Repeating Nana&#39;s                                heartbreaking voice.&lt;br /&gt;
Only love can make a memory. Only love can make                                a moment last. You were there and all the world                                was young and all it&#39;s songs unsung. and I remember                                you then when love was all, all you were living                                for,&lt;br /&gt;
and how you gave that love to me....&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The lyrics of this song fits our love so closely.                                When he was alive, my world was so young. Every                                day, I could find a something different to fight                                with him about. But after he left, my life is only                                left with memories and coldness that will never                                go away.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Will you marry me?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
When I read these words, my tears unconsciously                                came, wetting the keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;
Will I? If he&#39;s in front of me, I will definitely                                kick him and call him a big fool. If I wasn&#39;t willing,                                I wouldn&#39;t have waited until today.&lt;br /&gt;
So I moved the cursor over the &quot;Reply&quot;                                box, and typed the response that I&#39;ve already prepared                                for so many years - &quot;I will.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I will - be by his side for the rest of my life.                                I will - fight with him forever. That is how I answered                                him, but the only response I got was the repeating                                song &quot;Only Love.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Nevertheless, I opened every single letter, accepted                                every singled rose, and typed the same response:                                &quot;I will.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I replied 100 times, and &quot;Only Love&quot;                                played 100 times. In this cold Valentine&#39;s night,                                the line that&#39;s been broken for 1 year finally got                                reconnected.&lt;br /&gt;
I answered you. What about you?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/7188487968097760803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/only-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/7188487968097760803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/7188487968097760803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/only-love.html' title='Only Love'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-4647726302587515142</id><published>2010-06-21T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:06:01.308-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Learning to Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;ins style=&quot;border: medium none; display: inline-table; height: 600px; margin: 0pt; padding: 0pt; position: relative; visibility: visible; width: 160px;&quot;&gt;&lt;ins style=&quot;border: medium none; display: block; height: 600px; margin: 0pt; padding: 0pt; position: relative; visibility: visible; width: 160px;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe allowtransparency=&quot;true&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;600&quot; hspace=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;google_ads_frame2&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; name=&quot;google_ads_frame&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?client=ca-pub-3002194721507739&amp;amp;output=html&amp;amp;h=600&amp;amp;slotname=1199287521&amp;amp;w=160&amp;amp;lmt=1264841763&amp;amp;flash=10.0.22&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.romancequote.com%2FRomanticStories.htm&amp;amp;dt=1277143306201&amp;amp;shv=r20100607&amp;amp;prev_slotnames=5911725332&amp;amp;correlator=1277143305672&amp;amp;frm=0&amp;amp;adk=1982498883&amp;amp;ga_vid=1352513873.1277143306&amp;amp;ga_sid=1277143306&amp;amp;ga_hid=196423391&amp;amp;ga_fc=0&amp;amp;u_tz=300&amp;amp;u_his=17&amp;amp;u_java=1&amp;amp;u_h=768&amp;amp;u_w=1024&amp;amp;u_ah=738&amp;amp;u_aw=1024&amp;amp;u_cd=32&amp;amp;u_nplug=21&amp;amp;u_nmime=111&amp;amp;biw=1007&amp;amp;bih=584&amp;amp;ref=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.romancequote.com%2FRomanticStories.htm&amp;amp;fu=0&amp;amp;ifi=2&amp;amp;dtd=26&amp;amp;xpc=Itnlh3Xt7P&amp;amp;p=http%3A//www.romancequote.com&quot; style=&quot;left: 0pt; position: absolute; top: 0pt;&quot; vspace=&quot;0&quot; width=&quot;160&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/ins&gt;&lt;/ins&gt;                                                                                                           &lt;img height=&quot;2&quot; src=&quot;http://www.romancequote.com/Adline2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;340&quot; /&gt;                                                                                                                   &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They have been married for two years. He loves                                literature and often posts his work on the net,                                but nobody ever reads them. He is also into photography                                and he handles their wedding photos. He loves her                                very much. Likewise with her. She has a quick temper                                and always bullies him. He is a gentleman and always                                gives in to her. &lt;br /&gt;
Today, she&#39;s being willful again.&lt;br /&gt;
Her: &quot;Why can&#39;t you be the photographer for                                my friend&#39;s wedding? She promised she&#39;d pay.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;I don&#39;t have time that day.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her: &quot;Humph!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;Huh?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her: &quot;Don&#39;t have time? Write less of those                                novels, and you will have all the time you need.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;I... someone will definitely recognize                                my work some day.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her: &quot;Humph! I don&#39;t care, you&#39;ll have to do                                it for her!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;No.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her: &quot;Just this once?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;No.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Negotiation&#39;s broken. So, she gave the final warning:                                &quot;Give me a Yes within three days, or else...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
First day, she &quot;withheld&quot; the kitchen,                                bathroom, computer, refrigerator, television, hi-fi...                                Except the double bed, to show her &quot;benevolence&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
Of course, she has to sleep on it too. He didn&#39;t                                mind, as he still has some cash in his pockets.&lt;br /&gt;
Second day, she conducted a raid and removed everything                                from his pockets and warned, &quot;Seek any external                                help, and you bear the consequences.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
He&#39;s nervous now. That night, on the bed, he begs                                for mercy, hoping that she&#39;ll end this state. She                                doesn&#39;t give a damn. No way am I giving in, whatever                                he says. Until he agrees.&lt;br /&gt;
Third day, night. On the bed. He&#39;s lying on the                                bed, looking to one side. She&#39;s lying on the bed,                                looking to the other side.&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;We need to talk.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her: &quot;Unless it&#39;s about the wedding, forget                                it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;It&#39;s something very important.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She remains silent.&lt;br /&gt;
Him:&quot;Let&#39;s get a divorce.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She did not believe her ears.&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;I got to know a girl.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s totally angry, and wanted to hit him. But                                she held it down, wanting to let him finish. But                                her eyes already felt wet. He took a photo out from                                his chest. Probably from his undershirt pocket,                                that&#39;s the only place she didn&#39;t go through yesterday.                                How careless.&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;She&#39;s a nice girl.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her tears fell.&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;She has a good personality too.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s heartbroken because he puts a photo of some                                other girl close to his heart.&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;She says that she&#39;ll support me fully                                in my pursue for literature after we got married.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s very jealous because she said the same thing                                in the past.&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;She loves me truly.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She wishes to sit up and scream at him &quot;Don&#39;t                                I?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;So, I think she won&#39;t force me to do                                something that I don&#39;t want to do.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s thinking, but the rage won&#39;t subside.&lt;br /&gt;
Him: &quot;Want to take a look at the photo I took                                for her?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Her: &quot;...!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
He brings the photo before her eyes. She&#39;s in a                                total rage, hits his hand away and leaves a burning                                slap on his face.&lt;br /&gt;
He sighs. She cries.&lt;br /&gt;
He puts the photo back to his pocket. She pulls                                her hand back under the blanket.&lt;br /&gt;
He turns off the light, and sleeps. She turns on                                the light, and sits up. He&#39;s asleep. She lost sleep.                                She regrets treating him the way she treated him.&lt;br /&gt;
She cried again, and thought about a lot of things.                                She wants to wake him up. She wants to have a intimate                                talk with him. She doesn&#39;t want to push him anymore.                                She stares at his chest. She wants to see how the                                girl looks.&lt;br /&gt;
She slips the photo out. She wanted to cry and                                she wanted to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s a nicely taken photo. A photo he took for                                her. She bends down, and kissed him on his cheek.&lt;br /&gt;
He smiled. He was just pretending to be asleep.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You learn to love, not by finding a perfect                                person, but by learning to see an imperfect person                                perfectly.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/4647726302587515142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/learning-to-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4647726302587515142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4647726302587515142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/learning-to-love.html' title='Learning to Love'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-6884048715606877287</id><published>2010-06-21T11:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T11:04:14.190-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Letters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>The Racer</title><content type='html'>&lt;ins style=&quot;border: medium none; display: inline-table; height: 600px; margin: 0pt; padding: 0pt; position: relative; visibility: visible; width: 160px;&quot;&gt;&lt;ins style=&quot;border: medium none; display: block; height: 600px; margin: 0pt; padding: 0pt; position: relative; visibility: visible; width: 160px;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe allowtransparency=&quot;true&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;600&quot; hspace=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;google_ads_frame2&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; name=&quot;google_ads_frame&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?client=ca-pub-3002194721507739&amp;amp;output=html&amp;amp;h=600&amp;amp;slotname=1199287521&amp;amp;w=160&amp;amp;lmt=1264841799&amp;amp;flash=10.0.22&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.romancequote.com%2FRomanceStories4.htm&amp;amp;dt=1277143110790&amp;amp;shv=r20100607&amp;amp;prev_slotnames=5911725332&amp;amp;correlator=1277143110096&amp;amp;frm=0&amp;amp;adk=1982498883&amp;amp;ga_vid=2092610131.1277143111&amp;amp;ga_sid=1277143111&amp;amp;ga_hid=1024223041&amp;amp;ga_fc=0&amp;amp;u_tz=300&amp;amp;u_his=16&amp;amp;u_java=1&amp;amp;u_h=768&amp;amp;u_w=1024&amp;amp;u_ah=738&amp;amp;u_aw=1024&amp;amp;u_cd=32&amp;amp;u_nplug=21&amp;amp;u_nmime=111&amp;amp;biw=1007&amp;amp;bih=584&amp;amp;ref=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.romancequote.com%2FRomanceStories3.htm&amp;amp;fu=0&amp;amp;ifi=2&amp;amp;dtd=49&amp;amp;xpc=T7sPvbrnKx&amp;amp;p=http%3A//www.romancequote.com&quot; style=&quot;left: 0pt; position: absolute; top: 0pt;&quot; vspace=&quot;0&quot; width=&quot;160&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/ins&gt;&lt;/ins&gt;                                                                                                           &lt;img height=&quot;2&quot; src=&quot;http://www.romancequote.com/Adline2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;340&quot; /&gt;                                                                                                                   &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s been 3 months that we&#39;ve been dating. Ever                                since 9th grade, we&#39;ve always dreamed of being together.                                I use to give him love letters everyday when we                                were in high school. I&#39;m in love with one of the                                best racers in the city. That gives me a good reputation.                                Well ever since hes got that car, hes been working                                on it 24/7. We barely have any alone time anymore.                                Our last month anniversary i bought him a new part                                for his car. He would always promise me that he                                would get me something better if i wait...so i do.                                He told me not to buy him anymore things for him                                cuzz he said its his job to buy me things so i stopped                                and waited for our anniversaries. &lt;br /&gt;
- A Month Later&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s August 1st, and its our 4th anniversary. I                                see this beautiful necklace in a catalog i got in                                the mail. He walks in and puts his tools down to                                get a drink...&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Looking at some jewelry.&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: O cool.&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: By the way babe...do u know what day it                                is?&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Is it race night?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: No...nevermind forget it&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Ok (walks back into the garage to work on                                the car)&lt;br /&gt;
I stare at the catalog and touch the picture while                                a tear drop falls on the page. I go in the room                                and cry for about 2 hours straight. He didn&#39;t even                                notice how i felt that night. He has never gotten                                me anything for any of our anniversaries. I&#39;ve waited                                for 4 months and still nothing.&lt;br /&gt;
- Another Month Later&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s September 1st, and its our 5th anniversary.                                I&#39;m flipping through the channels and i find the                                first movie that we ever watched together. Once                                again hes working on his car as usual. He walks                                in to wash his hands...&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Watching the first movie that we ever                                watched together.&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: O I remember that...(smiles and walks out)&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Wait...&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: (walks in again) Yes babe?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Do u know what day is today?&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Yeah it&#39;s friday...why?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Nothing...nevermind&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: O Ok (walks back in the garage)&lt;br /&gt;
I turn the TV off and i run to my room and cry                                for 3 hours this time. He still didn&#39;t notice it.                                He has never gotten me anything for any of our anniversaries.                                I&#39;ve waited 5 months and still nothing.&lt;br /&gt;
- Another Month Passes&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s October 1st, and it&#39;s our 6th anniversary.                                I&#39;m reading the love letters that he wrote to me                                when we were still in high school. He walks in and                                gives me a kiss on the cheek...&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Reading your old love letters from high                                school.&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: (giggles of embarassment) I remember those...those                                were so silly.&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: By the way...where did u put the love                                letters that i gave u?&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Uhhh???... in the car...&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: O &quot;i stood there in disbelief&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Well anyways...Guess what day it is today                                babe.&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica:(Smiles with all her joy) What day is it                                today?...In my mind- &quot;He finally&lt;br /&gt;
remembered what day it is&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Today is the day my new tires come in that                                i ordered online (smiles)&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: O yeah i remember....(frowns)...In my                                mind- &quot;He still doesn&#39;t know&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: It&#39;s gonna come this afternoon. I&#39;ll go wait                                for it outside. (Runs outside)&lt;br /&gt;
I tried to open the last letter but it was too                                wet of tears. I run to the room and cry for 4 hours                                this time. He still didn&#39;t notice it. He has never                                gotten me anything for any of our anniversaries.                                I&#39;ve waited 6 months and still nothing.&lt;br /&gt;
- Another Month Gone By&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s November 1st, and it&#39;s our 7th annversary.                                I wait for him inside. &quot;If he doesn&#39;t remember                                this time, then it&#39;s over&quot;. He walks in...&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Nothing jus waiting for you.&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Why?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Do you know what today it is?&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Well it&#39;s saturday...&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: HOW COULD U KEEP FORGETTING!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Forget bout what?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: OUR ANNIVERSARY!!!&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: O I forgot...I must have been busy working                                on the...&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: GET OUT!&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: Babe why?&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: NOW!&lt;br /&gt;
Mark: but babe I...&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: GO NOW!&lt;br /&gt;
Mark- Walks outside&lt;br /&gt;
I slam the door on his back and i fall on my knees                                crying for about 5 hours. I hear the car turn on                                and blast out of the driveway. The last thing i                                heard was his tires skidding on the garage ground.                                I was so heart broken that i past out and fell asleep.&lt;br /&gt;
- 3 days later (November 4th)&lt;br /&gt;
I didn&#39;t hear from him since that day. He would                                usually come back to apologize. I called his family                                but they said he never came home at all. He has                                no where to stay so i call his cell. It&#39;s not in                                service...I get very worried that i once again i                                run up to my room and start crying. I cried for                                6 hours this time. I fall asleep on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;
I have a nightmare while i was sleeping...&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;re in his car and we&#39;re speeding on a 2 lane                                road. I&#39;m in the passenger seat screaming. I see                                him driving and crying at the same time. I try my                                best to tell him to slow down but he jus won&#39;t hear                                me. Then i see a turn coming up. It&#39;s a very tight                                corner and it’s on the edge of a hill. We                                lose control and spin out and fall down the hill                                facing back words. The last thing i saw was a sign                                that said &quot;SLOW DOWN - 10FT DROP&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I wake up, before we crash, and I’m sweating...and                                i stop and stare for about 10 minutes. I ask myself                                &quot;Why didn&#39;t i wake up earlier?&quot;. I&#39;d usually                                wake up before I get scared in my dreams. My friend                                walks it and I quickly get up pretending as if nothing                                happened.&lt;br /&gt;
Jenn: Wake up sleepy head...say...were gonna go                                to the view and look at all the lights from on top                                the mountains.&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: Cool, I&#39;m there...jus let me get ready.&lt;br /&gt;
Jenn: Ok, but hurry up&lt;br /&gt;
Angelica: How long was i asleep?&lt;br /&gt;
Jenn: About 2 hours&lt;br /&gt;
I look at the clock and it said 7:00 pm on the                                dot. Then I go to the bathroom and wash my face                                and i change my shirt. I&#39;m still wondering about                                my dream. &quot;It felt so real&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
- In the car&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;re goin up the mountain and the 4 lane road                                turns into 2 lanes. Me and Jenn are jus talking                                bout going to a concert next week. Then theres a                                strange silence in our conversation. Then up the                                road i see a sign that says &quot;SLOW DOWN - 10FT                                DROP&quot; then I gasp and i yell at Jenn &quot;STOP!!!&quot;                                and she slams the brakes and we stop in the middle                                of the road. Luckily theres no traffic so we&#39;re                                alone.&lt;br /&gt;
I step out of the car and look at the edge of the                                turn and i see skid marks on the ground leading                                to the edge of the hill and i see that theres a                                big gap in the guard rail as if some one had run                                straight into it. Then i look down at the edge of                                the hill to see his car laying there crushed under                                a tree. I drop to my knees and i just stare at it                                for about 2 minutes. Jenns surprised to see how                                i found the car.&lt;br /&gt;
I run to the wreck to see him laying there with                                his head down. I check his pulse only to find out                                that hes dead. I cry and while crying i see his                                hand is touching the glove compartment of the dash                                board. I walk around the car, to the other side                                and i open it. There... i found a box with a lock                                on it. It was a key lock but there was no key to                                be found. I see a paper sticking out from under                                the seat. I pull it and to my surprise....it was                                the first letter that i wrote to him. I was more                                curious but even more heart struck. I kicked the                                seat and it broke off and under it was all of the                                letters that i wrote to him. Every single one was                                there. then under all the papers was a key. I looked                                at it and then looked at the box. I stuck the key                                in and twisted it. CLICK It pops open and i jus                                drop to my knees again in more tears to see the                                necklace that i was looking at 4 months ago in the                                catalog. I looked at it and put it on. But that                                wasn&#39;t it....under the necklace was a pillow and                                under that pillow was a ring. A diamond ring and                                under that was a letter...&lt;br /&gt;
Dear Angelica,&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve been waiting for a long time for this moment                                and I think it&#39;s the perfect time. We&#39;ve been together                                for 8 months and that was enough time for me to                                find out that you were the right one for me. The                                whole time I&#39;ve been working on my car, I&#39;ve also                                been planning on how I was gonna tell u this. All                                i can say now is that I really love you. I want                                u to be mine and only mine. I will always feel this                                way no matter what happens to me or u. So in&lt;br /&gt;
conclusion...will u accept this ring for me and                                wear it till u die. As long as u have it on, I will                                always be with you.&lt;br /&gt;
Always Love; Forever,&lt;br /&gt;
Mark&lt;br /&gt;
P.S. - I will still love you and I&#39;ll make up all                                my mistakes even when I die.I just loose my heart at that moment i finished                                reading the last words. My tears start to smear                                the writing and then suddenly the words dissappear                                from the moisture. I notice that I am covering a                                part of the letter with my finger. I move my finger                                slowly to read the piece of writing. I read it closely...and                                it says...&quot;November 4th - 5:00pm&quot; I just                                stopped and thinked…then I jus noticed that                                5:00pm was when I fell asleep and had the dream...                                i cried that whole night regretting my every word                                that I said to him. Till today, I wear the same                                ring. Now im working on his car that he died in.                                I&#39;m planning to fix it up on my own. I know that                                he is still in that car. So I&#39;ve deciding to keep                                the car with me till I die. As long as I have this                                car, I&#39;ll always have him.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/6884048715606877287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/racer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/6884048715606877287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/6884048715606877287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/racer.html' title='The Racer'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-4808288855178805039</id><published>2010-06-21T10:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:58:35.859-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>True Love</title><content type='html'>There was this guy who believed very much in true                                love and decided to take his time to wait for his                                right girl to appear. He believed that there would                                definitely be someone special out there for him,                                but none came. &lt;br /&gt;
Every year at Christmas, his ex-girlfriend would                                return from Vancouver to look him up. He was aware                                that she still held some hope of re-kindling the                                past romance with him. He did not wish to mislead                                her in any way. So he would always get one of his                                girl friends to pose as his steady whenever she                                came back.&lt;br /&gt;
That went on for several years and each year, the                                guy would get a different girl to pose as his romantic                                interest. So whenever the ex-girlfriend came to                                visit him, she would be led into believing that                                it was all over between her and the guy.&lt;br /&gt;
The girl took all those rather well, often trying                                to casually tease him about his different girlfriends,                                or so, as it seemed! In fact, the girl often wept                                in secret whenever she saw him with another girl,                                but she was too proud to admit it. Still, every                                Christmas, she returned, hoping to re-kindle some                                form of romance. But each time, she returned to                                Vancouver feeling disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;
Finally she decided that she could not play that                                game any longer. Therefore, she confronted him and                                professed that after all those years, he was still                                the only man that she had ever loved. Although the                                guy knew of her feelings for him, he was still taken                                back and have never expected her to react that way.                                He always thought that she would slowly forget about                                him over time and come to terms that it was all                                over between them. Although he was touched by her                                undying love for him and wanted so much to accept                                her again, he remembered why he rejected her in                                the first place-she was not the one he wanted. So                                he hardened his heart and turned her down cruelly.                                Since then, three years have passed and the girl                                never return anymore. They never even wrote to each                                other. The guy went on with his life..... still                                searching for the one but somehow deep inside him,                                he missed the girl.&lt;br /&gt;
On the Christmas of 1995, he went to his friend&#39;s                                party alone. &quot;Hey, how come all alone this                                year? Where are all your girlfriends? What happened                                to that Vancouver babe who joins you every Christmas?&quot;,                                asked one of his friend. He felt warm and comforted                                by his friend&#39;s queries about her, still he just                                surged on.&lt;br /&gt;
Then, he came upon one of his many girlfriends whom                                he once requested to pose as his steady. He wanted                                so much to ignore her ..... not that he was impolite,                                but because at that moment, he just didn&#39;t feel                                comfortable with those girlfriends anymore. It was                                almost like he was being judged by them. The girl                                saw him and shouted across&lt;br /&gt;
the floor for him. Unable to avoid her, he went                                up to acknowledge her.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hi......how are you? Enjoying the party?&quot;                                the girl asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Sure.....yeah!&quot;, he replied.&lt;br /&gt;
She was slightly tipsy..... must be from the whiskey                                on her hand. She continued,&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Why...? Don&#39;t you need someone to pose as                                your girlfriend this year?&quot; Then he answered,                                &quot;No, there is no need for that anymore......&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Before he can continue, he was interrupted, &quot;Oh                                yes! Must have found a girlfriend! You haven&#39;t been                                searching for one for the past years, right?&quot;                                The man looked up, as if he has struck gold, his                                face beamed and looked directly at the drunken girl.                                He replied, &quot;Yes......you are right! I haven&#39;t                                been looking for anyone for the past years.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
With that, the man darted across the floor and out                                the door, leaving the lady in much bewilderment.                                He finally realized that he has already found his                                dream girl, and she was.....the Vancouver girl all                                along! The drunken lady has said something that                                awoken him.&lt;br /&gt;
All along he has found his girl. That was why he                                did not bother to look further when he realized                                she was not coming back. It was not any specific                                girl he was seeking! It was perfection that he wanted,                                and yes.....perfection!!&lt;br /&gt;
Relationship is something both parties should work                                on. Realizing that he had let away someone so important                                in his life, he decided to call her immediately.                                His whole mind was flooded with fear. He was afraid                                that she might have found someone new or no longer                                had the same feelings anymore..... For once, he                                felt the fear of losing someone.&lt;br /&gt;
As it was Christmas eve, the line was quite hard                                to get through, especially an overseas call. He                                tried again and again, never giving up. Finally,                                he got through......precisely at 1200 midnight.                                He confessed his love for her and the girl was moved                                to tears. It seemed that she never got over him!                                Even after so long, she was still waiting for him,                                never giving up.&lt;br /&gt;
He was so excited to meet her and to begin his                                new chapter of their lives. He decided to fly to                                Vancouver to join her. It was the happiest time                                of their lives! But their happy time was short-lived.                                Two days before he was supposed to fly to Vancouver,                                he received a call from her father. She had a head-on                                car collision with a drunken driver. She passed                                away after 6 hours in a coma.&lt;br /&gt;
The guy was devastated, as it was a complete loss.                                Why did fate played such cruel games with him? He                                cursed the heaven for taking her away from him,                                denying even one last look at her! How cruel he                                cursed! How he damned the Gods...!! How he hated                                himself....for taking so long to realize his mistake!!                                That was in 1996.&lt;br /&gt;
The moral of this story is : -&lt;br /&gt;
Treasure what you have...&lt;br /&gt;
Time is too slow for those who wait;&lt;br /&gt;
Too swift for those who fear;&lt;br /&gt;
Too long for those who grief;&lt;br /&gt;
Too short for those who rejoice;&lt;br /&gt;
But for those who love...&lt;br /&gt;
Time is Eternity.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;For all you out there with someone special in your                                heart, cherish that person, cherish every moment                                that you spend together that special someone, for                                in life, anything can happen anytime. You may painfully                                regret, only to realise that it is too late.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/4808288855178805039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/true-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4808288855178805039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4808288855178805039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/true-love.html' title='True Love'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-2111446192257075963</id><published>2010-06-21T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:57:28.291-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Letters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>The Breakup Letter</title><content type='html'>Boy: Baby, we need to talk.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Ricardo, what do u mean?&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Something has come up...&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: What? What&#39;s wrong? Is it bad?&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: I don&#39;t want to hurt you, baby.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: *Thinks* Oh my God, I hope he doesnt break                                up with me... I love him so much.&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Baby, are you there??&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Yeah, I&#39;m here. What is so important??&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: I&#39;m not sure if I should say it..&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Well, you already brought it up, so please                                just tell me.&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: I&#39;m leaving...&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Baby, what are u talking about?? I don&#39;t want                                you to leave me, I love you.&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Not like that, I mean I&#39;m moving far away.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Why? All of your famliy lives over here.&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Well, my father is sending me away to a boarding                                school far away.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: I can&#39;t believe this.&lt;br /&gt;
[FATHER: (Picks up the other phone, interrupts &amp;amp;                                yells furiously&lt;br /&gt;
ERICA!, what did I tell you about talking to boys?!!!...                                Get off the&lt;br /&gt;
damn phone!! (And hangs up).] &lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Wow, your father sounds really mad.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: You know how he gets, but anyways, I dont                                want you to go.&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Would you run away with me?&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Baby, you know I would, I would do anything                                for you, but I&lt;br /&gt;
can&#39;t... You don&#39;t know what would happen if I did.                                My dad would kill me!&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: *Sad* It&#39;s okay.. I understand, I guess..&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: *Thinking*I can&#39;t believe what&#39;s going on.&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: I need to give you something tonite, because                                I am leaving on&lt;br /&gt;
flight 1-80 in the morning, so I need to see you                                now.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Okay, I will sneak out &amp;amp; meet you at the                                park.&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Okay, I&#39;ll meet you there in 20 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
[They meet at a nearby park, they both hug eachother.                                And he gives&lt;br /&gt;
her a note.]&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Here you go, this is for you. I gotta go.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: *Tear* (Begins to cry.)&lt;br /&gt;
Boy: Baby, dont cry, you know I love you... But                                I have to go.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Okay (Begins to walk away.)&lt;br /&gt;
[They both go back home. And Erica begins to read                                the letter he gave her]&lt;br /&gt;
It says...&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Erica,&lt;br /&gt;
You probably already know that I&#39;m leaving, I knew                                this would be better if I wrote a letter explaining                                the truth about how much I care about you. The truth                                is, is that I never loved you, I hated you so much,                                you are my bitch and dont you ever forget that.                                I never cared about you, and never wanted to talk                                to you, and be around you. You really have no clue                                how much I hate you. Now that I&#39;m leaving I thought                                you should know that I hate you, bitch. You never                                did the right thing, and you were never there. I                                didnt think I could hate someone as much as I hate                                you. And I never want to see you, for the rest of                                my life, I will never miss kissing you like before,                                I never want to cuddle up, how we used to. I will                                not miss you and that&#39;s a promise. You never had                                my love, and I want you to remember that. Bitch,                                you keep this letter because this may be the last                                thing you have from me. Fuck, I hate you so much.                                I will not talk to you soon bitch... Goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;
- Ricardo&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
[ Erica begins to cry, she throws the paper in                                tha garbage &amp;amp; crys for hours ]&lt;br /&gt;
... A day passes, she is sad, depressed and she                                feels so lonely... Then she gets a phone call....&lt;br /&gt;
Friend: How are you feeling?&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: I just cant believe this happened.. I thought                                he loved me.&lt;br /&gt;
Friend: Oh, about that. Ricardo left me a message.                                A few days ago. He told me to tell you to look in                                your jacket pocket or something...&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Umm.. okay.&lt;br /&gt;
[She finds a piece of paper in the jacket,&lt;br /&gt;
It says:&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Baby I hope you find this before you read                                my letter. I knew your dad might read it, so I switched                                a few words...&lt;br /&gt;
Hate = Love&lt;br /&gt;
Never = Always&lt;br /&gt;
Bitch = Baby&lt;br /&gt;
Will not= will&lt;br /&gt;
.... I hope you didn&#39;t take that seriously because                                I love you with all my heart, and it was so hard                                to let you go thats why I wanted you to run away                                with me... -Ricardo&quot;]&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: Oh my God! It&#39;s a letter.. Ricardo does love                                me!!, he must of slipped it into my pocket when                                he hugged me. I can&#39;t believe how stupid I am!!&lt;br /&gt;
Friend: lol Okay but I g2g... Call me later.&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: *happy*okay, bye, I&#39;ll be at home waiting                                for my baby to call me!&lt;br /&gt;
... Erica turns the T.V. on......&lt;br /&gt;
[Breaking news] &quot;An airplane has crashed.                                Over 47 young boys died, we are still searching                                for survivors... This is a tragedy we will never                                forget, this plane was flight 1-80... it was on                                its way to an all boys boarding school...&quot;                                the Reporter says.&lt;br /&gt;
[ She turns off the t.v. ... 3 days later, she kills                                herself, because of the fact that Ricardo was dead                                &amp;amp; she had nothing to live for... ]... A day after that the phone rings. Nobody answers.                                It was Ricardo, he called to leave a message. &quot;Its                                Ricardo, I guess you&#39;re not home so, I called to                                let you know that I&#39;m alive, I missed my flight                                because I had to see you one last time. So, I hope                                your not worried. I am staying for good.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/2111446192257075963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/breakup-letter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2111446192257075963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2111446192257075963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/breakup-letter.html' title='The Breakup Letter'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-2397643184458808327</id><published>2010-06-21T10:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:56:17.480-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Love and Mairrage</title><content type='html'>One day, Plato asked his teacher, &quot;What is                                love? How can I find it?&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
His teacher answered, &quot;There is a vast wheat                                field in front. Walk forward without turning back,                                and pick only one stalk. If you find the most magnificent                                stalk, then you have found love.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Plato walked forward, and before long, he returned                                with empty hands, having picked nothing. His teacher                                asked, &quot;Why did you not pick any stalk?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Plato answered, &quot;Because I could only pick                                once, and yet I could not turn back. I did find                                the most magnificent stalk, but did not know if                                there were any better ones ahead, so I did not pick                                it. As I walked further, the stalks that I saw were                                not as good as the earlier one, so I did not pick                                any in the end.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
His teacher then said, &quot;And that is love.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
On another day, Plato asked his teacher, &quot;What                                is marriage? How can I find it?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
His teacher answered, &quot;There is a thriving                                forest in front. Walk forward without turning back,                                and chop down only one tree. If you find the tallest                                tree, then you have found marriage.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Plato walked forward, and before long, he returned                                with a tree. The tree was not thriving, and it was                                not tall either. It was only an ordinary tree.&lt;br /&gt;
His teacher asked, &quot;Why did you chop down                                such an ordinary tree?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Plato answered, &quot;Because of my previous experience.                                I had walked through the field, but returned with                                empty hands. This time, I saw this tree, and I felt                                that it was not bad, so I chopped it down and brought                                it back. I did not want to miss the opportunity.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
His teacher then said, &quot;And that is marriage.                                You see son, love is the most beautiful thing to                                happen to a person, it&#39;s an opportunity but you                                don&#39;t realize it&#39;s worth when you have it but only                                when it&#39;s gone like the field of stalks. Marriage                                is like the tree you chopped, it&#39;s a compromise.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/2397643184458808327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/love-and-mairrage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2397643184458808327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2397643184458808327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/love-and-mairrage.html' title='Love and Mairrage'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-2637288071321438548</id><published>2010-06-21T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:55:16.894-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>The love Letters</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;I was always a little in awe of Great-aunt Stephina                                Roos. Indeed, as children we were all frankly terrified                                of her. The fact that she did not live with the                                family, preferring her tiny cottage and solitude                                to the comfortable but rather noisy household where                                we were brought up-added to the respectful fear                                in which she was held.                              We used to take it in turn to carry small delicacies                                which my mother had made down from the big house                                to the little cottage where Aunt Stephia and an                                old colored maid spent their days. Old Tnate Sanna                                would open the door to the rather frightened little                                messenger and would usher him-or her - into the                                dark voor-kamer, where the shutters were always                                closed to keep out the heat and the flies. There                                we would wait, in trembling but not altogether unpleasant.&lt;br /&gt;
She was a tiny little woman to inspire so much                                veneration. She was always dressed in black, and                                her dark clothes melted into the shadows of the                                voor-kamer and made her look smaller than ever.                                But you felt. The moment she entered. That something                                vital and strong and somehow indestructible had                                come in with her, although she moved slowly, and                                her voice was sweet and soft.&lt;br /&gt;
She never embraced us. She would greet us and take                                out hot little hands in her own beautiful cool one,                                with blue veins standing out on the back of it,                                as though the white skin were almost too delicate                                to contain them.&lt;br /&gt;
Tante Sanna would bring in dishes of sweet, sweet,                                sticky candy, or a great bowl of grapes or peaches,                                and Great-aunt Stephina would converse gravely about                                happenings on the farm ,and, more rarely, of the                                outer world.&lt;br /&gt;
When we had finished our sweetmeats or fruit she                                would accompany us to the stoep, bidding us thank                                our mother for her gift and sending quaint, old-fashioned                                messages to her and the Father. Then she would turn                                and enter the house, closing the door behind, so                                that it became once more a place of mystery.&lt;br /&gt;
As I grew older I found, rather to my surprise,                                that I had become genuinely fond of my aloof old                                great-aunt. But to this day I do not know what strange                                impulse made me take George to see her and to tell                                her, before I had confided in another living soul,                                of our engagement. To my astonishment, she was delighted.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;An Englishman,&quot;she exclaimed.&quot;But                                that is splendid, splendid. And you,&quot;she turned                                to George,&quot;you are making your home in this                                country? You do not intend to return to England                                just yet?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She seemed relieved when she heard that George                                had bought a farm near our own farm and intended                                to settle in South Africa. She became quite animated,                                and chattered away to him.&lt;br /&gt;
After that I would often slip away to the little                                cottage by the mealie lands. Once she was somewhat                                disappointed on hearing that we had decided to wait                                for two years before getting married, but when she                                learned that my father and mother were both pleased                                with the match she seemed reassured.&lt;br /&gt;
Still, she often appeared anxious about my love                                affair, and would ask questions that seemed to me                                strange, almost as though she feared that something                                would happen to destroy my romance. But I was quite                                unprepared for her outburst when I mentioned that                                George thought of paying a lightning visit to England                                before we were married.&quot;He must not do it,&quot;she                                cried.&quot;Ina, you must not let him go. Promise                                me you will prevent him.&quot;she was trembling                                all over. I did what I could to console her, but                                she looked so tired and pale that I persuaded her                                to go to her room and rest, promising to return                                the next day.&lt;br /&gt;
When I arrived I found her sitting on the stoep.                                She looked lonely and pathetic, and for the first                                time I wondered why no man had ever taken her and                                looked after her and loved her. Mother had told                                me that Great-aunt Stephina had been lovely as a                                young girl, and although no trace of that beauty                                remained, except perhaps in her brown eyes, yet                                she looked so small and appealing that any man,                                one felt, would have wanted to protect her.&lt;br /&gt;
She paused, as though she did not quite know how                                to begin.&lt;br /&gt;
Then she seemed to give herself, mentally, a little                                shake. &quot;You must have wondered &quot;, she                                said, &quot;why I was so upset at the thought of                                young George&#39;s going to England without you. I am                                an old woman, and perhaps I have the silly fancies                                of the old, but I should like to tell you my own                                love story, and then you can decide whether it is                                wise for your man to leave you before you are married.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I was quite a young girl when I first met                                Richard Weston. He was an Englishman who boarded                                with the Van Rensburgs on the next farm, four or                                five miles from us. Richard was not strong. He had                                a weak chest, and the doctors had sent him to South                                Africa so that the dry air could cure him. He taught                                the Van Rensburg children, who were younger than                                I was, though we often played together, but he did                                this for pleasure and not because he needed money.&quot;We                                loved one another from the first moment we met,                                though we did not speak of our love until the evening                                of my eighteenth birthday. All our friends and relatives                                had come to my party, and in the evening we danced                                on the big old carpet which we had laid down in                                the barn. Richard had come with the Van Rensburgs,                                and we danced together as often as we dared, which                                was not very often, for my father hated the Uitlanders.                                Indeed, for a time he had quarreled with Mynheer                                Van Rensburg for allowing Richard to board with                                him, but afterwards he got used to the idea, and                                was always polite to the Englishman, though he never                                liked him.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;That was the happiest birthday of my life,                                for while we were resting between dances Richard                                took me outside into the cool, moonlit night, and                                there, under the stars ,he told me he loved me and                                asked me to marry him. Of course I promised I would,                                for I was too happy to think of what my parents                                would say, or indeed of anything except Richard                                was not at our meeting place as he had arranged.                                I was disappointed but not alarmed, for so many                                things could happen to either of us to prevent out                                keeping our tryst. I thought that next time we visited                                the Van Ransburgs, I should hear what had kept him                                and we could plan further meetings…&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;So when my father asked if I would drive                                with him to Driefontein I was delighted. But when                                we reached the homestead and were sitting on the                                stoep drinking our coffee, we heard that Richard                                had left quite suddenly and had gone back to England.                                His father had died, and now he was the heir and                                must go back to look after his estates.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I do not remember very much more about that                                day, except that the sun seemed to have stopped                                shining and the country no longer looked beautiful                                and full of promise, but bleak and desolate as it                                sometimes does in winter or in times of drought.                                Late that afternoon, Jantje, the little Hottentot                                herd boy, came up to me and handed me a letter ,                                which he said the English baas had left for me.                                It was the only love letter I ever received, but                                it turned all my bitterness and grief into a peacefulness                                which was the nearest I could get, then, to happiness.                                I knew Richard still loved me, and somehow, as long                                as I had his letter, I felt that we could never                                be really parted, even if he were in England and                                I had to remain on the farm. I have it yet, and                                though I am an old, tired woman, it still gives                                me hope and courage.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I must have been a wonderful letter, Aunt                                Stephia,&quot;I said&lt;br /&gt;
The old lady came back from her dreams of that far-off                                romance.&quot;Perhaps,&quot; she said, hesitating                                a little, &quot;perhaps, my dear, you would care                                to read it ?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I should love to , Aunt Stephia,&quot;I said                                gently&lt;br /&gt;
She rose at once and tripped into the house as eagerly                                as a young girl. When she came back she handed me                                a letter, faded and yellow with age, the edges of                                the envelope worn and frayed as though it had been                                much handled. But when I came to open it I found                                that the seal was unbroken.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Open it ,open it,&quot;said Great-aunt Stephia,                                and her voice was shaking&lt;br /&gt;
I broke the seal and read.&lt;br /&gt;
It was not a love letter in the true sense of the                                word, but pages of the minutest directions of how&quot;my                                sweetest Phina&quot;was to elude her father&#39;s vigilance,                                creep down to the drift at night and there meet                                Jantje with a horse which would take her to Smitsdorp.                                There she was to go to &quot;my true friend, Henry                                Wilson&quot;,who would give her money and make arrangements                                for her to follow her lover to Cape Town and from                                there to England ,&quot; where, my love, we can                                he be married at once. But if, my dearest, you are                                not sure that you can face lift with me in a land                                strange to you, then do not take this important                                step, for I love you too much to wish you the smallest                                unhappiness. If you do not come, and if I do not                                hear from you, then I shall know that you could                                never be happy so far from the people and the country                                which you love. If, however, you feel you can keep                                your promise to me, but are of too timid and modest                                a journey to England unaccompanied, then write to                                me, and I will, by some means, return to fetch my                                bride.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I read no further.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;But Aunt Phina!&quot;I gasped. &quot;Why…why…?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The old lady was watching me with trembling eagerness,                                her face flushed and her eyes bright with expectation.&quot;Read                                it aloud, my dear,&quot;she said.&quot;I want to                                hear every word of it. There was never anyone I                                could trust…Uitlanders were hated in my young                                days…I could not ask anyone.&quot;But, Auntie, don&#39;t you even know what he                                wrote?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The old lady looked down, troubled and shy like                                a child who has unwittingly done wrong.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;No, dear,&quot; she said, speaking very low.&quot;You                                see, I never learned to read.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/2637288071321438548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/love-letters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2637288071321438548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/2637288071321438548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/love-letters.html' title='The love Letters'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-1639291039557226754</id><published>2010-06-21T10:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:53:47.881-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Tree,leaves and Wind</title><content type='html'>Tree &lt;br /&gt;
===&lt;br /&gt;
The reason I&#39;m called tree is because I&#39;m good                                at painting trees. Overtime I start to use a tree                                on the right hand corner as a trademark for all                                my watercolors painting. I have dated 5 gals when                                I was in Pre-U. There&#39;s one gal who I love a lot                                but never dare go after her. She doesn&#39;t have a                                pretty face, doesn&#39;t have a good figure, doesn&#39;t                                have outstanding charm. She is just a very ordinary                                gal.&lt;br /&gt;
I like her. I really like her. Like her innocent,                                like her frankness. Like her cuteness, like her                                intelligence and her fragility. Reason for not going                                after her is because I felt somebody so ordinary                                like her is not a good match for me. I&#39;m also afraid                                that after we are together all the good feelings                                will vanish. I&#39;m also afraid other&#39;s gossips will                                hurt her. I felt that if she&#39;s my gal, she will                                be mine ultimately &amp;amp; I don&#39;t have to give up                                everything just for her. The last reason, made her                                accompany me for 3 years. She watch me chase after                                gals, and I have make her heart cry for 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;
She wants to be a good actress and I&#39;m a very demanding                                director. When I kissed my 2nd girlfriend, she bumped                                into us. She was embarrassed but smile &amp;amp; say                                &quot;Go on!&quot; before running off. The next                                day, her eyes was swollen like a walnut. I purposely                                didn&#39;t want to think about what causes her to cry                                but laugh at her the whole day. When everybody go                                back home, she was alone crying in the classroom.                                She didn&#39;t know that I returned from soccer training                                to get something. I watch her cry for an hour or                                so.&lt;br /&gt;
My 4th girlfriend didn&#39;t like her. There was once                                when both of them quarreled. I know that based on                                her character she&#39;s not the type that will start                                off the quarrel. But I still sided with my girlfriend.                                I shouted at her and her eyes was filled shocked.                                I didn&#39;t care about her feelings and walked off                                with my girlfriend. The next day, she still laugh                                &amp;amp; joke with me like nothing has ever happened.                                I know that she&#39;s very hurt but she didn&#39;t know                                that my heart ache is as bad as hers.&lt;br /&gt;
When I broke up with my 5th girlfriend, I asked                                her out. After going out for a day, I told her that                                I have something to tell her. She told me that coincidentally,                                she has something to tell me too. I told her about                                my break up and she told me about her getting together.                                I know whose the guy. He has been going after her                                for quite a while. A very cute guy full of energy,                                lively and interesting. His pursuit for her has                                been the talk of the school.&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t show her my heart ache but could only smile                                &amp;amp; congratulate her. When I reach home, the heart                                ache is so strong that I can&#39;t stand it. It&#39;s like                                a heavy weighted stone on my chest. I couldn&#39;t breath.                                Wanted to shout but can&#39;t. Tears rolled down &amp;amp;                                I broke down &amp;amp; cry. How many times have I seen                                her cry for the man that doesn&#39;t acknowledge her                                presence too.&lt;br /&gt;
During graduation, I read a sms in my hp. It was                                send 10 days ago when I broke down and cry. I haven&#39;t                                read it since then. It says &quot;Leaf departure                                is because of Wind pursuit. Or because Tree didn&#39;t                                ask her to stay&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Leaf&lt;br /&gt;
===&lt;br /&gt;
During Pre-U days, I like to collect leaves. Why?                                Because I felt that for a leaf to leave the tree                                she has been relying on for so long it takes a lot                                of courage. During the 3 years of Pre-U I was on                                very close terms with a guy. Not BGR kind but as                                buddy kind. But when he had his 1st girlfriend,                                I learnt a feeling I never should have learnt -                                Jealousy. The sourness in the heart can&#39;t be describe                                by using a lemon. It&#39;s like 100 rotten sour lemon.                                Sourness to the extreme limit. They were only together                                for 2 mths. When they broke up, I hide my strong                                sense of happiness. But after a mth, he got together                                with another gal.&lt;br /&gt;
I like him &amp;amp; I know he like me. But why won&#39;t                                he pursue me? Since he love me why he doesn&#39;t want                                to make the first move? Whenever he had a new girlfriend,                                my heart would hurt. Time after time, my heart was                                hurt. I begin to suspect that this is a one sided                                love. If he don&#39;t like he, why does he treat me                                so well. It&#39;s beyond what you will normally do for                                a friend. Liking a person is very heart wrenching.                                I can know his likes, his habits. But his feelings                                towards me I can never figure out. You can&#39;t expect                                me a gal to ask him right?&lt;br /&gt;
Despite that, I still want to be by his side. Care                                for him, accompany him, love him. Hoping that one                                fine day, he will come &amp;amp; love me. It&#39;s like                                waiting for his phone call every night, wanting                                him to send me sms. I know that no matter how busy                                he is, he will make time for me. Because of this,                                I waited for him. The 3 years were the hardest to                                go through &amp;amp; I really want to give up. Sometimes,                                I wonder should I continue waiting. The pain and                                hurt, the dilemma accompany me for 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;
Till the end of my 3rd year, a 2nd year junior                                begins to go after me. Everyday he pursuit me relentlessly.                                From outright rejection to a point in time when                                I felt that I&#39;m willing to let him have a small                                footing in my heart. He&#39;s like a warm &amp;amp; gentle                                wind, trying to blow a leaf away from the tree.                                In the end, I realized that I didn&#39;t want to give                                this wind a small footing in my heart. I know this                                wind will bring this badly battered leave far away                                &amp;amp; better land. Finally I left tree, but the                                tree only smile &amp;amp; didn&#39;t ask me to stay. Leaf                                departure is because of Wind pursuit. Or because                                Tree didn&#39;t ask her to stay&lt;br /&gt;
Wind&lt;br /&gt;
====&lt;br /&gt;
Because I like a gal called leaf. Because she&#39;s                                so dependent on tree so I have to be a gust wind.                                A wind that will blow her away. When I first met                                her, it was 1 mth after I transfer to the new school.                                I saw a petite person looking at my seniors &amp;amp;                                me playing soccer. During ECA time, she will always                                be sitting there. Be it alone or with her friends                                looking at him. When he talks with gals there&#39;s                                jealousy in her eyes. When he looked at her, there&#39;s                                a smile in her eyes. Looking at her became my habit.                                Just like she likes to look at him.&lt;br /&gt;
One day, she didn&#39;t appear. I felt something amissed.                                I can&#39;t explain the feeling except it&#39;s a kind of                                uneasiness. The senior was also not there as well.                                I went to their classroom, hid outside and saw my                                senior scolding her. Tears were in her eyes while                                he left. The next day, I saw her at her usual place,                                looking at him. I walked over and smiled to her.                                Took out a note &amp;amp; gave to her. She was surprised.                                She looked at me, smiled &amp;amp; accept the note.                                The next day, she appeared &amp;amp; pass me a note                                and left.&lt;br /&gt;
Leaf&#39;s heart is too heavy and wind couldn&#39;t blow                                her away&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s not that leaf heart is too heavy. It because                                leaf never want to leave tree&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;right&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;250&quot; style=&quot;width: 300px;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
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&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;I replied her note with this statement and slowly                                she started to talk to me &amp;amp; accept my presents                                &amp;amp; phone calls. I know that the person she loves                                is not me. But I have this perseverance that one                                day I will make her like me. Within 4 mths, I have                                declared my love for her no less than 20 times.                                Every time, she will divert away from the topic.                                But I never give up. If I decide I want her to be                                mine, I will definitely use all means to win her                                over. I can&#39;t remember how many times I have declared                                my love to her. Although I know she will try to                                divert but I still bear a small ray of hope. Hoping                                that she will agree to me my girlfriend. I didn&#39;t                                hear any reply from her over the phone. I asked                                &quot;what are you doing? How come you didn&#39;t want                                to reply?&quot; She said, &quot;I&#39;m nodding my head&quot;.                                &quot;Ah?&quot; I couldn&#39;t believe my ears. &quot;I&#39;m                                nodding my head&quot; She replied loudly. I hang                                up the phone, quickly changed and took a taxi and                                rush to her place &amp;amp; press her door bell. During                                the moment when she opens the door. I hugged her                                tightly. Leaf departure is because of Wind pursuit.                                Or because Tree didn&#39;t ask her to stay.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/1639291039557226754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/treeleaves-and-wind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/1639291039557226754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/1639291039557226754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/treeleaves-and-wind.html' title='Tree,leaves and Wind'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-5642101180399741128</id><published>2010-06-21T10:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:52:34.342-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>The Soldier</title><content type='html'>John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened                                his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people                                making their way through Grand Central Station.                                He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but                                whose face he didn&#39;t, the girl with the rose. His                                interest in her had begun thirteen months before                                in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf                                he found himself intrigued, not with the words of                                the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin.                                The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul                                and insightful mind. &lt;br /&gt;
In front of the book, he discovered the previous                                owner&#39;s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and                                effort he located her address. She lived in New                                York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself                                and inviting her to correspond. The next day he                                was shipped overseas for service in World War II&lt;br /&gt;
During the next year and one-month the two grew                                to know each other through the mail. Each letter                                was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A Romance                                was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but                                she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it                                wouldn&#39;t matter what she looked like.&lt;br /&gt;
When the day finally came for him to return from                                Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00                                pm at Grand Central Station in New York.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You&#39;ll recognize me, &quot; she wrote, &quot;by                                the red rose I&#39;ll be wearing on my lapel.&quot;                                So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl                                whose heart he loved, but whose face he&#39;d never                                seen.&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:                                A young women was coming toward me, her figure long                                and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from                                her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers.                                Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in                                her pale green suit she was like springtime come                                alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting                                to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I                                moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.                                &quot;Going my way, sailor?&quot; she murmured.                                Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to                                her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing                                almost directly behind the girl. A women well past                                40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat.                                She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust                                into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit                                was walking quickly away. I felt as though I split                                in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and                                yet so deep was my longing for the women whose spirit                                had truly companioned me and upheld my own.&lt;br /&gt;
And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle                                and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly                                twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped                                the small worn blue leather copy of the book that                                was something precious, something perhaps even better                                than love, a friendship for which I had been and                                must ever be grateful.&lt;br /&gt;
I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out                                the book to the women, even though while I spoke                                I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.                                &quot;I&#39;m Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must                                be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me;                                may I take you to dinner?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;                                    &lt;noscript&gt;                                   &amp;lt;a href=&quot;http://media.fastclick.net/w/click.here?sid=30727&amp;amp;m=6&amp;amp;c=1&quot; target=&quot;_top&quot;&amp;gt;                                    &amp;lt;img src=&quot;http://media.fastclick.net/w/get.media?sid=30727&amp;amp;m=6&amp;amp;tp=8&amp;amp;d=s&amp;amp;c=1&quot; width=300 height=250 border=1&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/a&amp;gt;&lt;/noscript&gt;                                    &lt;!-- ValueClick Media 300x250 Medium Rectangle CODE for romancequote.com --&gt;                                 &lt;/td&gt;                               &lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;The women&#39;s face broadened into a tolerant smile.                                &quot;I don&#39;t know what this is about, son,&quot;                                she answered, &quot;but the young lady in the green                                suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this                                rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask                                me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that                                she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across                                the street. She said it was some kind of test!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/5642101180399741128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/soldier.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5642101180399741128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5642101180399741128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/soldier.html' title='The Soldier'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-5092692711739003541</id><published>2010-06-21T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:50:18.933-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Promise</title><content type='html'>As soon as he sat down on the bench he began to                                drift back to that&lt;br /&gt;
Valentine’s Day eighteen years before. It                                had been at this very same&lt;br /&gt;
bench. He had been coming here every Valentine’s                                Day. He would sit for an hour or so and remember                                her and how he had loved her. He had planned to                                ask her to marry him on that day eighteen years                                before. His mind drifted back and in his mind’s                                eye he could see her and his heart could feel what                                he had felt on that day. &lt;br /&gt;
He had only known her for nine months. When he                                was twenty-five years old that seemed to be a longer                                period of time that it now did. He thought about                                how they had met. People that he worked with were                                going out for Friday night drinks and they had asked                                him to come. This was something that they only did                                a few times a year and he had never gone with them                                before. When this was pointed out to him he said                                that he would join them. &lt;br /&gt;
It was a large bar and a band was playing classic                                rock and dance music. He sat at the bar nursing                                a beer while listening to the music. That was when                                he first noticed her. She was sitting at a table                                with another woman. He glanced at her from the corner                                of his eye and in that strange communication that                                is without words he knew that she knew that he was                                looking at her. There was about ten minutes of this                                thing of her noticing him noticing her while he                                was doing the same. It was interrupted when the                                band took a break and his co-workers began to chit-chat.                                As soon as the music started up again he gazed directly                                at her and in an instant that was unlike him he                                stepped off of his stool and walked directly towards                                her table. She watched him as he walked towards                                her and their eyes met before words were spoken.&lt;br /&gt;
“Would you like to dance?”, he asked.                                Her eyes looked away from his as she said, “I                                can’t”. It wasn’t the answer that                                he had hoped for. He muttered “Okay”                                and started to turn to walk away. Her hand reached                                out towards his, “No wait, sit down.”                                He smiled and as soon as he sat down he said, “I                                can’t dance either.” They sat and talked                                in staccato conversation at points where the music                                got lower. One of his co-workers joined him at the                                table and a few minutes later the co-worker and                                her friend were up and dancing.&lt;br /&gt;
“ Are you sure you don’t want to dance?”                                She shook her head to say no but her eyes said that                                she was not definite so he asked, “Are you                                sure, there is no harm in trying?” She grinned                                and said, “I really can’t but I’ll                                try.” As soon as she stood up he noticed the                                cane hanging on the back of her chair. She walked                                towards the dance floor without it, dragging her                                right leg while limping. He followed her slowly                                and they started to dance. The ‘dancing’                                lasted about two minutes before she fell down, landing                                on her left knee. He helped her back to the table.                                When she sat down she giggled and said, “I                                guess that you were wrong about it not hurting to                                try.”&lt;br /&gt;
He sat on the bench and re-played the scene in                                his mind. The he fast forwarded to that Valentine’s                                Day eighteen years before, right here at this very                                same bench. She was from Ohio and had moved to Connecticut                                two years before they had met. It was a whirlwind                                relationship and they had both rushed off into the                                high that comes when two souls touch. He had rehearsed                                it in his head. They would take a walk in the park                                and then sit at a bench and he would ask her to                                marry him. But something had happened that was not                                part of the rehearsal that he had played in his                                head. As soon as they sat down she said that she                                had something to tell him. He listened. Her grandmother                                was sick. She was going back to Ohio for a few weeks.                                She would call him and it would not be long before                                she would see him. He decided to hold off on his                                question. He would ask her when she got back. They                                would return to this bench. As soon as he thought                                this a wave of worry washed over him. It seemingly                                came out of nowhere. What if he were to never see                                her again? Instead of the rehearsal that he had                                played out in his mind he blurted out, “I’m                                afraid that I won’t see you again.”                                She smiled a smile that reassured him, “Don’t                                be afraid I’ll see you soon.” As they                                stood up he clasped her hand and whispered in her                                ear,”I love you.” She looked down at                                her right leg , All of me?” He kissed her                                gently and whispered softly, “ Every part                                of you, forever, I promise.”&lt;br /&gt;
She would be staying with her cousin, not far                                from the nursing home where her grandmother was.                                Two days after she left he called he called the                                number that she had given him. Her cousin answered                                and took a message. She phoned him back the following                                day and they talked for fifteen minutes or so. He                                only spoke with her once after that. She didn’t                                return his phone calls until the late night call                                that he received after not hearing from her for                                almost two weeks. She said that she was sorry for                                not calling, she had been busy. They chit-chatted                                and she said that she would talk to him soon. He                                sensed that something was different during this                                conversation and he had been right. Three days later                                he phoned her and her cousin said that she had moved.                                He never heard from her again.&lt;br /&gt;
In the weeks that followed he wondered a lot.                                Wondered what had happened. Wondered how he had                                let it happen. Wondered why he had been so foolish.                                Wondered how she could mean so much to him that                                he could not see that he mattered little to her.                                Wondered if things might have been different if                                he had followed the script that he had rehearsed                                in his head for that Valentine’s Day. Wondered                                what her answer would have been. Wondered if she                                realized how much she meant to him. Wondered why                                she did not just tell him that it was over. Wondered                                why she had whispered “I love you” when                                the times they had engaged in a lover’s embrace.                                The worst part about this wondering was that there                                wasn’t anyone to share it with. He wished                                that he could unfold it all, the whole story, all                                of the wondering to another person. Then he could                                ask, What do you think happened?” But there                                wasn’t anyone else because he felt to foolish                                to talk about it with anyone. Two months after the                                last time that he had spoken with her he phoned                                her cousin asking how he could reach her. Her cousin’s                                reply was, “She’s unreachable.”                                He started to sob right there on the&lt;br /&gt;
phone. “If you see her please tell her that                                I still love her and can she please call me?”                                He gave her cousin his phone number even though                                he knew that he had given it to her the last time                                that he had called.&lt;br /&gt;
It took a few months but eventually the wondering                                receded. It didn’t fully go away but he wondered                                less often. He accepted that there were things that                                he would not know, that there was no answer to all                                of the wondering and that anything would just be                                conjecture. He moved on. That is what survivors                                of soul wounds do. Some move forward, some become                                hardened, some hurt&lt;br /&gt;
others, and some wall themselves off from others.                                He was determined to move forward but he did not                                forget her and knew that he never would. In this                                way she would always be a part of him in some small                                way. When souls touch they leave graffiti.&lt;br /&gt;
One year after the last time that he had seen her                                he returned to the bench and thought about her and                                the last day that he had seen her. He sat on the                                bench on a day that was not unlike that Valentine’s                                Day the year before. It was still winter but there                                was a hint of spring in the air and the promise                                of what would grow and blossom. He felt at the cross                                and chain hanging around his neck. The word “Love”                                was engraved on the cross. She had given it to him.                                He contemplated taking it off and throwing it as                                far as he could in an act to symbolize closure.                                He didn’t do it because he knew that it would                                only be symbolic and that real closure would only                                come from speaking with her. He imagined what he                                might say if she could hear him. He reflected on                                this and reached down into all that he knew of his                                knowing her. In his mind’s eye he spoke. The                                words came to him in an instant, utterances from                                his soul: &lt;br /&gt;
There is a place I enter in.&lt;br /&gt;
What never was, what might have been. &lt;br /&gt;
Where are you now, what do you seek?&lt;br /&gt;
Afraid to talk?, me I still speak.&lt;br /&gt;
I say the things I never said,&lt;br /&gt;
In conversations inside my head.&lt;br /&gt;
If you could hear, you’d understand,&lt;br /&gt;
What never was, was also planned.He returned to the bench ever Valentine’s                                Day and remembered his love for her. Something significant                                happened before his third Valentine’s Day                                alone at the bench. Two weeks before Valentine’s                                Day he received a Sunday morning 10 a.m. phone call                                from her cousin. There had been complications during                                childbirth and she had died the night before. “You                                said that you loved her. I thought that you should                                know.” If asked if she had been married and                                was told that she was not. There would be a brief                                memorial service and she would be cremated. He thanked                                her cousin for calling and hung up the phone. He                                went to a drawer and took out the cross and chain                                that she had given him. He laid down , stared at                                the ceiling and held the cross in his hand slowly                                moving his index finger over the word “Love”.                                He picked up the phone and called her cousin. Could                                he come to the memorial service? She told him where                                and when it would be. &lt;br /&gt;
The memorial service would be at 10 a.m. Tuesday.                                He flew to Ohio on Monday arriving late at night                                and taking a taxi to a motel not far from where                                the memorial service would be. On Tuesday morning                                he took a taxi to a small church. He arrived fifteen                                minutes before the service was to begin and introduced                                himself to a woman setting out framed photos on                                a table at the front of the church. The woman was                                her cousin. He looked at the photos. There she was                                from little girl to grown woman. In one she looked                                to be about&lt;br /&gt;
ten years old and she was sitting on a bicycle.                                He remembered her voice telling him of the car accident                                she had been in when she was thirteen years old                                and how she had become a three legged person referring                                to her cane. He looked at a photo of her as he had                                known her. He stared closely at the photo and could                                see the cross that she was wearing. It was the cross                                that she had taken off of her neck and put around                                his. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks as he                                sat down. He was close to the front of the church.                                He glanced at her cousin sitting in the row of seats                                to his right. He shot a quick glance behind him.                                There were only two other people besides him and                                her cousin. The minister said some kind words and                                quoted scripture. It was clear by what was said                                that the minister did not know her. The service                                lasted fifteen minutes. &lt;br /&gt;
He walked towards the doors of the church. The                                two people who had been sitting behind him introduced                                themselves as co-workers from the restaurant where                                she had worked. They shook his hand and walked down                                the church steps. He looked at her cousin, “Do                                you have time to talk?” She forced a smile                                through teary eyes and they went for coffee. It                                was between breakfast and lunch and there were few                                people in the diner. They sat down at a corner booth.                                He wanted to ask questions about the things that                                he had wondered about. Maybe this would bring some                                answers, some closure, or at least something close                                to it. He didn’t know where to start. Sitting                                with this stranger had added another wonder. What                                did she know of him? &lt;br /&gt;
He began by asking a question that he had wondered                                about at the church, right after the two co-workers                                had introduced themselves. Before that he had thought                                that the man might be her boyfriend and the baby’s                                father. “Who’s the father of the baby?”                                She was silent for a moment, looked down at her                                coffee, sipped at it, then said, “I don’t                                know and neither does anyone else. She’s in                                foster care now and will be put up for adoption.”                                He didn’t know what to say. His face dropped,                                “What? How can nobody know who the father                                is?” Her eyes darted back down towards her                                coffee. “She slept around a lot.” &lt;br /&gt;
There had been too much wondering. He did not want                                to leave with more questions. He did not want to                                have another un-finished conversation. He drank                                deep of what she told him. In her grief she shared                                in a way that she might not have otherwise. He listened.                                In a flash of realization he understood that while                                he had loved her he had not fully known her. He                                had only known a part of her.&lt;br /&gt;
She had never known her father. Her mother was                                a heroin addict who had become a prostitute to support                                her habit. One time her mother had ran off with                                a customer. Her pimp was angry and he waited for                                her at her apartment. After two days had gone by                                he became so enraged that he locked her daughter                                up in a bedroom, bound her hands behind her back                                and repeatedly raped her.&lt;br /&gt;
She was only thirteen years old. When he left the                                bedroom she escaped by crashing through a third                                floor window. That was how her leg had been injured.                                There had been nerve damage. When she left the hospital                                she went to live with her grandmother who was the                                only adult who had ever treated her decent. She                                fell in with a bad crowd when she was sixteen years                                old. Her self-esteem was low and she would do just                                about anything for some attention. By the time she                                was eighteen she was addicted to snorting coke and                                was selling her body on the street. She had gone                                to Connecticut to escape from her pimp and to get                                off of coke. The trip had been arranged by a young                                street preacher whose life had been threatened for                                helping street girls by helping them to relocate                                and setting them up with a job and a place to stay.                                Her cousin wiped at the tears streaming down her                                cheeks. “I’m the one who got him to                                talk to her. I had him come to my place when I knew                                that she would be there.” She looked at the                                cross hanging around his neck. “He gave that                                to her and told her that the cross was not a symbol                                of suffering but a symbol of love overcoming suffering.”&lt;br /&gt;
Her grandmother had been sick. Three weeks after                                she had returned to Ohio her grandmother died. She                                fell back in with some people that she had known                                before and while she stayed away from hooking she                                had gotten back into coke. She ended up bouncing                                from man to man, anew one every month or two. “Most                                just used her, some were abusive, all of them had                                coke.” Somewhere during the conversation he                                had started to cry. He whispered, “I loved                                her.” Her cousin looked into his eyes and                                said, “I&lt;br /&gt;
know. She thought that you were too good for her.”                                He wiped at his tears with a napkin, “How                                do you know that?” She reached across the                                table and touched his hand. “Because she told                                me. She was worried that she would hurt you if you                                found out about her past. She felt guilty for lying                                to you.” There is a communion when strangers                                share tears with each other and he knew that she                                meant what she had said. “I wanted to ask                                her to marry me.”&lt;br /&gt;
She clasped at his hand and whispered, “She                                always spoke well of you.”&lt;br /&gt;
Less than two weeks later he sat on the bench on                                Valentine’s Day. Three years had passed since                                the last time he had seen her. On this day he replayed                                in his head what had occurred on that first Valentine’s                                Day. He could hear the words that they had spoken                                to each other, words etched upon his soul. His life                                had been touched by her and he had felt in ways                                that he had never felt before. The whole thing had                                been an opening. He could feel more now. He was                                grateful for the experience. He had come to know                                himself&lt;br /&gt;
more. What he decided that fourth Valentine’s                                Day on the bench was life changing. But that was                                long ago.&lt;br /&gt;
Now it was eighteen years since that first Valentine’s                                Day. He sat on the bench and placed the cross around                                his neck between his thumb and index finger. He                                said a silent prayer to the Spirit that moves within                                each of us but is not felt by everyone. It was through                                this Spirit that he still felt her. There had been                                others before and after her. There had even been                                a marriage that had ended two years before. It had                                only lasted three years. He reflected on that and                                how it started as a mutual convenience for two people                                who didn’t have much in common other than                                approaching middle age, being single, and not wanting                                to be. It thought it fortunate that they had not                                had children together. He had dated over the years                                but most of the woman had seemed fearful of emotional                                intimacy or perhaps he just felt too deep. It was                                different with her. He had only been with her for                                nine months but he had felt closer to her than any                                of the others. He had never promised anyone what                                he had promised her.That first year they had walked to the park but                                now he lived an hour dive away. It was 3 p.m. and                                traffic was very light. As he drove home he thought                                of the joy that had come from the promise that grew                                out of his love for her. He went into the house                                and walked into the kitchen. His fifteen year old                                daughter was sitting at the table sipping tea and                                looking at a magazine. He opened the refrigerator,                                took out a bottle of water, and sat down across                                from her. “Are you okay daddy?” He grinned                                and said, “I’m fine.” She looked                                directly at him. “You look like you’ve                                been crying.” He was silent for a moment.                                “I was thinking about your mother.”                                She knew that Valentine’s Day was special                                to him but she didn’t fully know why. “You                                must have really loved her. I love you daddy.”                                He looked across the table, smiled and said, “I                                love you too Promise.”</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/5092692711739003541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/promise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5092692711739003541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5092692711739003541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/promise.html' title='Promise'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-3460970120169885505</id><published>2010-06-21T10:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:48:17.028-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Papercranes</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, there was once a guy who was                                very much in love with this girl. This romantic                                guy folded 1,000 pieces of papercranes as a gift                                to his girl. Although, at that time he was just                                a small executive in his company, his future doesn&#39;t                                seemed too bright, they were very happy together.                                Until one day, his girl told him she was going to                                Paris and will never come back. She also told him                                that she cannot visualise any future for the both                                of them, so let&#39;s go their own ways there and then...                                heartbroken, the guy agreed. &lt;br /&gt;
When he regained his confidence, he worked hard                                day and night, slogging his body and mind just to                                make something out of himself. Finally with all                                these hardwork and with the help of friends, this                                guy had set up his own company...&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You never fail until you stop trying.&quot;                                he always told himself. &quot;I must make it in                                life!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw                                an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain                                walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella,                                they were still drenched. It didn&#39;t take him long                                to realise those were his ex-girlfriend&#39;s parents.                                With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly                                beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his                                luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn&#39;t                                the same anymore, he had his own company, car, condo,                                etc. He had made it in life!&lt;br /&gt;
Before the guy can realise, the couple was walking                                towards a cemetary,and he got out of his car and                                followed them...and he saw his ex-girlfriend, a                                photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him                                from her tombstone... and he saw his precious papercranes                                in a bottle placed beside her tomb. Her parents                                saw him. He walked over and asked them why this                                had happened. They explained, she did not leave                                for France at all. She was stricken ill with cancer.                                In her heart, she had believed that he will make                                it someday, but she did not want her illness to                                be his obstacle ... therefore she had chosen to                                leave him.&lt;br /&gt;
She had wanted her parents to put his papercranes                                beside her, because, if the day comes when fate                                brings him to her again he can take some of those                                back with him. The guy just wept ...the worst way                                to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them                                but knowing you can&#39;t have them and will never see                                them again.&lt;br /&gt;
The End.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
A tragic story that perhaps happens only in the                                movies. At the end of the day, money is money is                                money but love is divine. In our quest for our material                                wealth, take time to make time for our loved ones.                                There will be a time when we have only memories                                to cling to.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/3460970120169885505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/papercranes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/3460970120169885505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/3460970120169885505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/papercranes.html' title='Papercranes'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-4275772595828616336</id><published>2010-06-21T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:47:09.079-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>The Wedding Vows</title><content type='html'>When I was six years old I met him in the                                playground and he came up to me with a daisy, just                                the one, and knelt on both knees and asked me to                                marry him. So I pushed him over then ran away. Two                                days later he came over and asked if he could play                                cops and robbers with me and from that day on we                                played everyday.                              &lt;br /&gt;
At 11 on my first day of Secondary school I was                                so nervous but at lunch time he came to find me,                                and we sat down and ate lunch together. We did this                                everyday for an entire year. You were the first                                person I told about everything, about my crushes,                                about my lessons and about all the people I hated,                                and when I was 13 and thought I was the only one                                who had never been kissed, you offered to show me                                how, and by the tree in your backgarden we shared                                our first kiss.&lt;br /&gt;
At 15 we went to our first proper house party,                                and I got drunk. Even though I made a fool of myself                                you were there to help me stand strong. You didnt                                judge and you didnt make fun.&lt;br /&gt;
Over the next year we began to seperate, made different                                friends. I got my first serious boyfriend and you                                went through quite a few girlfriends. And then it                                got to May and that meant the prom. Everything had                                been arranged, I&#39;d been getting my outfit for months                                and then the day before I found out my boyfriend                                had cheated on me. The first person I turned to                                was you. You turned up at my door with a bouquet                                of roses and a vintage 1950&#39;s car.&lt;br /&gt;
I laughed that night&lt;br /&gt;
I cried that night&lt;br /&gt;
We had three glorious yars together, when everyday                                I would smile. Even on the last when your mother                                stood up, in the church infornt of your coffin and                                began reading from your diary:&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I saw you when I was six stood by the bench                                in a blue checked dress and daisy shoes and I needed                                to give an other daisy just because.... Becuase                                i loved you from that day on&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
His wedding vows written the day after prom, that                                I will never get to hear.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/4275772595828616336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/wedding-vows.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4275772595828616336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/4275772595828616336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/wedding-vows.html' title='The Wedding Vows'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-3558380110584643776</id><published>2010-06-21T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:46:24.477-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>SMS love</title><content type='html'>My cellphone&#39;s beeping sound woke me up one night.                                Used to receiving important messages only, I grabbed                                my cell and sleepily pushed the keys and read the                                message. &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hi there! Care 2 b my txtmate?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Not knowing who the sender was, I deleted the message                                right away and placed the phone on my bedside table,                                I tried to go back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;
I had just closed my eyes when I heard the message                                tone again.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hi there, again! Care 2 b my txtmate?&quot;                                again, the message said.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Who the hell could this be asking for txtmate                                at the wee hours of the night?&quot; I asked myself.&lt;br /&gt;
Again, without bothering to reply I deleted the                                message.&lt;br /&gt;
I was never a &#39;textmaniac&#39; - someone who enjoys                                texting anyone and everyone even at the wee hours                                of night, not to mention during the day. My parents,                                who were always out of the country forced me to                                own a cellphone. They told me that having one was                                more convenient - they could monitor me even if                                they&#39;re miles away.&lt;br /&gt;
I wanted to turn the unit off, but since my mother                                was fond of calling me at night, just to check if                                I was safe at home, I decided not to.&lt;br /&gt;
Just as I was to close my eyes and return to my                                dreamless sleep, the phone beeped again.&lt;br /&gt;
Same number...Such determination!&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Ply reply 2 dis msg &amp;amp; b an angel &amp;amp;                                save me frm dis abyss of emptiness!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I never knew why, but the message struck me. I                                got up and pushed the keys... I just realized I                                was replying to the message.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Im not an angel, n f u want som1 2 save u,                                m not superman... I&#39;m just a simple prson who u                                wake up at dis r of my nyt!!! Nway, do I know u?&quot;                                I typed.&lt;br /&gt;
Seconds later came the reply.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Nope. U don&#39;t know dis lonely soul. Nor does                                she know u. But I want 2 b ur frnd. I&#39;m Mikaella                                Cervantes. U?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Just call me Julius. How&#39;d u get my no.?&quot;                                I sent back.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hi Julius, nice 2 meet u. Just shuffled the                                last two digits of mine,&quot; she replied.&lt;br /&gt;
That was the first and maybe the last time I met                                someone over the cellphone.&lt;br /&gt;
We exchanged messages and learned so much about                                each other that night. We only said goodbye when                                my alarm clock rang at 5:00 AM! I had to prepare                                for school!&lt;br /&gt;
And that was also how it all started. A day would                                not pass without a loving and thoughtful messages                                from her. It was only then I had learned to appreciate                                text messages and become eager and excited everytime                                my phone beeped, hoping it would be her.&lt;br /&gt;
I never knew why, but her response sent shivers                                to my spine, &quot; Value d people hu hav touched                                ur life bcoz u will never know just wen dey will                                walk out of ur lyf &amp;amp; nvr come back again.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I couldn&#39;t understand what I felt that moment,                                but one thing I was sure though... I could not go                                on a day without a single word from her. I&#39;d become                                used to having her, eventhough we had not met personally.                                But truly, she already occupied a space, a large                                one, in fact in my life.&lt;br /&gt;
I texted her back. &quot;Dont come close f l8r                                ull jst pass by; don&#39;t touch me f l8r ull jst let                                me cry; dont luv me f l8r ull jst leave me and won&#39;t                                stay...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I didn&#39;t know why I sent her that message, but                                somehow I felt, every word came from my heart. In                                the short span of time we were sending messages                                to each other, I knew, I was starting to keep her                                in my heart. &lt;br /&gt;
I called her once. The voice on the other end was                                like an angel&#39;s. Soft, kind, full of love. Yet,                                there was something in it I couldn&#39;t define. We                                only talked for a few minutes. Before she hung up,                                she told me not to call again. According to her,                                it would be better if we would just text each other.&lt;br /&gt;
But the voice kept ringing, not only in my head,                                but in my heart, I&#39;d long to hear it once more.                                I tried to call her again, but she never answered                                the phone. She just kept on sending messages and                                quotations, which I copied in a little notebook.                                Hopeless romantic? I didn&#39;t know. All I could say                                was that all the messages she sent me were wonderful,                                they came from the heart and cut through the heart.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Though we r miles apart, u r always n my                                heart. I close my eyes &amp;amp; der u r. Even f I&#39;ll                                see u never, I&#39;ll always b hir 2 care 4 u, far longer                                dan 4ever...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
One December night, she sent me this message. By                                that time we had been exchanging messages for more                                than a month. God knew how happy I was. She was                                right. Although we had not seen each other, what                                we felt was enough to make us both realize what                                was keeping us together.&lt;br /&gt;
I sent her another message, &quot;Loving u secretly                                is a hard thing 4 me 2 do,hoping, wondring that                                u will feel d same way 2, but I can&#39;t read r mind                                f u luv me 2. But whatever it is, I&#39;ll still be                                loving u.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;How I wish I cud really tell u how much u                                mean 2 me, but m afraid 2 love, scared 2 get hurt...                                I hope dat u will wait 4 me &amp;amp; pray dat u will                                not get tired of loving me...=)&quot; was her reply.&lt;br /&gt;
And then I replied again. &quot; The reason y I                                met u is bcoz of destiny but f destiny will suggest                                dat I&#39;ll live w/o u, den, I&#39;ll lie not by destiny                                but of free will.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Whenever I asked her when we would meet personally,                                she always answered, &quot;Soon...soon, love...soon.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Not seeing each other did not lessen, even a bit,                                what I felt for her...rather, it even grew deeper                                and stronger each day. And I was sure, she felt                                the same way, too. Love messages continued to flow                                through our lines, between our hearts, which made                                us go on each day with the thought that sooner,                                we would see each other, face to face, heart to                                heart.&lt;br /&gt;
Just a few days before Christmas. She stopped sending                                messages. At first I just though she had ran out                                of prepaid.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/3558380110584643776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/sms-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/3558380110584643776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/3558380110584643776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/sms-love.html' title='SMS love'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-8492048409558878605</id><published>2010-06-21T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:42:10.528-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Tell your loved ones that you love him/her</title><content type='html'>It all started when I was 6 years old. While I was playing outside on my farm in California, I met a boy. He was an average kind of boy who teased you and then you chased them and beat them up. After that first meeting in which I beat him up we kept on meeting and beating each other up at the fence. That only lasted for a little while though. We would meet at the fence all the time and we were always together. I would tell him all my secrets. He was quite very quiet he would just listen to what I had to say. I found him easy to talk to and I could talk to him about everything. In school we had separate friends but when we got home we would always talk about what happened in school. One day I said to him that a guy I liked hurt me and broke my heart. He just comforted me and said everything would be okay. He gave me words of encouragement and helped me get over him. I was happy and thought of him as a real friend. But I knew that there was something else about him that I liked. I thought of it that night and figured it was just a friend kinda thing that I was feeling. All through high school and even through graduation we&#39;re always together and of course I thought of it as being friends. But I knew deep inside that I really felt differently. On graduation night even though we had different dates to the prom I wanted to be with him. That night after everybody went home I went to his house and wanted to tell him that I wanted to see him. Well, that night was my big chance and all I did was just sit there with him watching the stars and talking about what I was going to do and what he was going to do. I looked into his eyes and listened to him talk about what his dream was. How he wanted to get married and settle down. He said how he wanted to be rich and successful. All I could do was to tell him my dream and cuddle next to him. I went home hurting because I didn&#39;t tell him how I was feeling.&lt;br /&gt;
I wanted to tell him so bad that I loved him but I was too scared and frightened. I let my feelings go and told myself that someday I would tell him just how I felt. All through college I wanted to tell him but he always had someone with him. After graduation he got a job in New York, I was happy for him but at the same time I was sad to see him go. I was sad also because I didn&#39;t tell him how I felt. But I couldn&#39;t let him know now that he was leaving for his big job. So I just kept it to myself and watched him go on the plane. I cried as I hugged him for what I felt was going to be the last time. I went home that night and cried my eyes out. I felt hurt that I didn&#39;t tell him what I had inside my heart. Well, I got a job as a secretary and then worked my way to a computer analyst. I was proud of what I had accomplished. One day I got a letter with an invitation to a marriage. It was from him, I was happy and sad at the same time. Now I know that I could never be with him and that we could only be friends. I went to the wedding the next month. It was a big occasion. The big church wedding and the reception at the hotel. I met the bride and of course him. I fell in love one more time.       But I held back so it wouldn&#39;t spoil what should be the happiest day in       his life. I tried to have fun that night but it was killing me inside       watching him being so happy and me trying to be happy covering up my       sadness tears inside of me. I left New York feeling that I did the       right       thing. Before I left on the flight, he came running out of nowhere and       said his good-byes and how he was very happy to see me. I came home and       just tried to forget about what went on in New York. I had to go on       with       my life. As the years went on, we wrote to each other on what was going       on and how he had missed talking to me. On one occasion he never wrote       back to me at all. I was getting worried as to why he hadn&#39;t written       anything for a long time after I had already written 6 letters to him.       Well, just when everything seemed hopeless and sad in my life, I got a       note that said: &quot;meet me at the fence where we used to talk about       things&quot;. I went and saw him there. I was happy to see him, but he was       broken-hearted and sad inside. We hugged until we couldn&#39;t breathe       anymore. Then he told me about the divorce and why he hadn&#39;t written       for       a long time. He cried until he couldn&#39;t cry anymore. Finally, we went       back to the house and talked and laughed about what I had been going       and       to catch up on old times. But in all of this, I couldn&#39;t tell him how I       felt about him. In the days that followed, he had fun and forgot about       all his problem and his divorce. I fell in love again with him. When it       came time for him to leave back to New York, I went to see him off and       cried. I hated to see him leave. He promised to see me every time he       could get a vacation. I couldn&#39;t wait for him to come so I could be       with       him. We would always have fun when we were together. One day he didn&#39;t       show up like he said he would. I figured that he might have been busy.       The days turned into months and I just forgot about it. Then I got a       call one day from a lawyer in New York. The lawyer said that he had       died       in a car accident going to the airport. And that it took this long till       everything was settled. It broke my heart. I was shocked about what       took       place. Now I knew why he didn&#39;t come that day. Again, I was       broken-hearted. I cried that night, cried tears of sadness and       heartache. Asking questions why did this happen to a kind guy like him?       I gathered my things and went to New York for the reading of his will.&lt;br /&gt;
Of course, things were given to his family and his ex-wife. I finally       got to meet her since the last time we met at the wedding. She       explained       to me how he was and how he always provided. But he was always unhappy.       She would always try everything but she couldn&#39;t get him happy, as he       was that night at their wedding. When the will was read, the one thing       that was given to me was a diary. It was a dairy that of his life. I       cried as it was given to me... As I flew on the plane I remembered the       good times that we had together. I started reading the diary and what       was written. The diary was started with the day we first met. I read on       till I started to cry. The diary told of him saying that he had fallen       in love with me that day I was broken-hearted. But he was too afraid to       tell me what he had felt. That is why he was so quiet and liked to       listen to me. It told of how he wanted to tell me so many times, but       was       too afraid to say anything. It told of when he went to New York and       fell       in love with another. How the happiest time he had was seeing me and       dancing with me at the wedding. He said he imagined it was our wedding.       How he was always unhappy till he had no choice but to divorce his       wife.       How the best time in his life was to read the letters written to him by       me. Finally, the diary ended when it said, &quot;today I will tell her I       love       her&quot;. It was the day he was killed. The day I was going to finally find       out what was really in his heart.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If you love someone, don&#39;t wait till tomorrow to tell him/her. Maybe       that next day will never come at all.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/8492048409558878605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/tell-your-loved-ones-that-you-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/8492048409558878605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/8492048409558878605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/tell-your-loved-ones-that-you-love.html' title='Tell your loved ones that you love him/her'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-5733319556450960833</id><published>2010-06-21T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:39:50.362-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sad Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Sad Love Story......Chris Diary</title><content type='html'>It had been raining for more than a week,                        so much rain it made everyday seemed so restless and gloomy.                        She called and said she was coming up. It was the third                        time she came up to see me that week. I carried her excuse                        of why she came all the way here and went to meet her at                        the nearby seven-eleven. She was standing there alone, carrying                        her red umbrella. Her friend had dropped her off. It was                        raining and she was shivering. She looked weak and fragile                        in the harsh rain, wearing not enough to keep her warm.                                           &lt;br /&gt;
I walked up to her and said, &quot;You shouldn&#39;t come see                        me anymore,&quot; and stuff like how we shouldn&#39;t be together.&lt;br /&gt;
She said, &quot;I miss you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I told her coldly, &quot;Lets go, I&#39;ll take you home.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She did not open up her umbrella, I knew she wanted to share                        mine.&lt;br /&gt;
I said, &quot;Open up your umbrella, let&#39;s go.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Unwillingly, She opened up her umbrella and walked with                        me to the car. She said she hadn&#39;t eat lunch or dinner and                        asked if we could stop at some place to eat.&lt;br /&gt;
Right away I answered with a stoned heart, &quot;No!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Disappointed, she asked me to take her to the train station,                        she said she would take the train back home.&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe it was the rain, all the trains were full of people                        with umbrellas and suit cases who were eager to get home,                        not caring about who just passed by. We waited and waited,                        she looked at me innocently. Being together for so long,                        of course I knew what she meant. I understand how she must                        feel when she came all this way here in this kind of weather                        and I treat her like this. With her soft eyes staring at                        me, I felt guilt and wanted to let her stay for the night.&lt;br /&gt;
But reality struck again, I said to her coldly, &quot;Let&#39;s                        go try the other train station.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
We were living in the same apartment building, on the same                        floor. Back then there were four of us, and we got along                        well. We would always eat dinner together, watch movies,                        and sometimes go camping. We were more like a family, but                        I didn&#39;t know I would end up falling in love with the only                        girl of the four. Maybe it was during the last year of college,                        having living together for two years, we developed deep                        feelings for each other. After she graduated she went back                        home, and I stayed for one more year to finish school. During                        that year I was only able to take the train down to see                        her on holidays, but never for long. That was how we kept                        the treasured relationship.&lt;br /&gt;
We were walking along the side of the road. She was in                        front of me and I was right behind her. Her umbrella had                        a broken spoke. She looked liked a wounded soldier, carrying                        her rusted rifle walking weakly. Many times, she was too                        into thinking or whatever she was doing, drifting off the                        road, she almost got hit by the cars passing by. I wanted                        to just take her in my arms, but with the love I had for                        her and the constant pain in my stomach, I did nothing.                        On the way, we passed by the park where we use to always                        go.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;She begged and said, &quot;Lets go in the park just for                        a little while please, I promise I&#39;ll go home right after                        this.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;With her begging, my cold heart softened,                        but I still put up an annoyed face and walked in the park.                        I was just sitting on the benches looking like I wanted                        to leave. She went to the big oak tree and she was looking                        for something. I knew she was looking for what we wrote                        on that tree with a silver ink pen half a year ago. If I                        remember it right, it said, &quot;Chris and Susan was here,                        Chris had tea and Susan was drinking hot chocolate. Hope                        Chris and Susan would always remember this day, always loving                        each other, forever.&quot; She was looking around for quite                        a while, then she came back slowly with tears on her face.&lt;/div&gt;She said, &quot;Chris, I can&#39;t find it, it&#39;s not there                        anymore.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I felt so sour inside, there was a stream of pain, flowing                        into my heart, the kind of pain I&#39;ve never felt before.                        But all I could do was pretend I didn&#39;t care, and said,                        &quot;Can we go now?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I opened up my big black umbrella, she was just standing                        there, didn&#39;t want to leave yet, hoping there was still                        a chance. She said, &quot;You made up the story of you and                        that other girl didn&#39;t you? I know I frustrate you sometimes,                        but I&#39;ll change, can&#39;t we start over?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I didn&#39;t say a word, just looked down and shook my head.                        After that we just kept on walking towards the train station,                        didn&#39;t say a word to each other.&lt;br /&gt;
Four years ago, the doctor said I had cancer, but it was                        found early, so it was still curable. Thinking that it was                        okay, I started living my normal life again, and even forgot                        about the cancer. I didn&#39;t think about the cancer again                        and did not go back to the doctor. Until a month ago, my                        stomach was hurting for two weeks straight, and the nightmare                        awakened me again. First I thought the pain wouldl go away,                        but it grew stronger until to the point that I couldn&#39;t                        take it anymore. I went back to the doctor and took an X-ray.                        The picture came out and there was a big black spot, which                        proved the truth that I did not want to believe. I was at                        the most glittering part of my life, but it was coming to                        an end. I wanted myself and the people around me to go through                        the least pain possible, so I decided to commit suicide.                        But I couldn&#39;t let people find out about my intentions,                        especially Susan, the person I love the most in this whole                        world, who still doesn&#39;t know about the truth. Susan was                        still young, she shouldn&#39;t have to go through this. So I                        made up some stories and lied to her. It was a cruel thing                        to do, and it broke her heart, but it was the fastest way                        to wipe out three years&#39;s feelings. I didn&#39;t have much time,                        because I would soon start to loose hair and she would find                        out eventually. But now I&#39;m close to succeeding, this drama                        would soon be over. Thirty minutes more this would all come                        to an end, that was what I had in mind.&lt;br /&gt;
The train had stopped running so I called a taxi for her.                        We were just standing there, waiting, loosing our last moments                        in silence.&lt;br /&gt;
I saw the taxi from far away, I held my tears and said                        to her, &quot;Take care of yourself, take good care of yourself.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
She didn&#39;t talk, just nodded lightly, and then opened up                        her misshaped umbrella and stepped out on the street. Out                        in the rain, we became two single life forms, one red, one                        black, so far away from each other. I opened the door for                        her and she got in, then I close the gate that would separate                        me from her forever. I stood by the car, staring in the                        dark window, at the first love in my life, also the last                        one, walking out of my life. The car started, driving into                        the street. Finally I couldn&#39;t hold my sorrow and the twist                        in my heart any longer, waving my arms rapidly chasing after                        the taxi, because I knew, this would be the last time I                        see her. I wanted to tell her I still love her, I wanted                        to tell her to stay, I wanted to tell her so much, but the                        taxi had already turned in the corner. Warm tears kept falling                        down my face, blended with the cold rain drops. I was cold,                        not because of the rain. I was cold inside.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;She left, and I didn&#39;t get anymore of her phone calls even                        until today. I know she didn&#39;t see my tears, because they                        were washed away by the rain. I left without regrets. But                        I&#39;m not Chris, I&#39;m that girl Susan, using my memory, and                        his diary I found after one year since he left, writing                        down these last words.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/5733319556450960833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/sad-love-storychris-diary.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5733319556450960833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5733319556450960833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2010/06/sad-love-storychris-diary.html' title='Sad Love Story......Chris Diary'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576044057276223846.post-5597288839391891672</id><published>2009-09-13T04:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T06:15:21.694-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Feel Love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Is it a Love Game?"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Games"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Letters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Matters"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Moments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love Stories"/><title type='text'>Valentine Loves</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;  &lt;a target=&quot;_blank&quot; href=&quot;http://www.3mints.info/upload/uploads/cc42dbcc31.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;width: 517px; height: 805px;&quot; src=&quot;http://www.3mints.info/upload/uploads/cc42dbcc31.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; vspace=&quot;5&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; hspace=&quot;5&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;                                                       &lt;script type=&quot;text/javascript&quot;&gt;                           //  clearFormat($(&quot;comb_-1&quot;));                             &lt;/script&gt;                                                    &lt;script type=&quot;text/javascript&quot;&gt;                             adJustImgs($(&#39;comb_-1&#39;));                         &lt;/script&gt;                                                                            &lt;!--投票--&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;script src=&quot;http://www.tocomet.com/js/Vote.js&quot; type=&quot;text/javascript&quot;&gt;&lt;/script&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/feeds/5597288839391891672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2009/09/valentine-loves.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5597288839391891672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5576044057276223846/posts/default/5597288839391891672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://loveatglance.blogspot.com/2009/09/valentine-loves.html' title='Valentine Loves'/><author><name>Muhammad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10509307104577608268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyN3FwVyryfiGJsSk4hR0Jqi94JREndkogxUcTWyyrGdmzecQ7i0CRGlfeJSOw-kgmo0Vp4icX0oyok45I0Ia7OP0M01maRyXoboB7fWoXo7jzbtawFwavwDQMmyGlw/s220/Image003.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>