<?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-8615292154806980448</id><updated>2024-08-08T21:53:45.793+05:30</updated><category term="Abstract"/><category term="Others"/><category term="perspicacious"/><title type='text'>Chasm of Life</title><subtitle type='html'>IMPAIRMENT OF PURE VIBES</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-300822970043972041</id><published>2023-02-02T12:12:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2023-02-02T12:12:28.469+05:30</updated><title type='text'>An Ode to *Him*</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A person of strength and grace,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With battles won and scars to trace.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Amidst the struggles, you still stand,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Your spirit unbroken, your heart so grand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You&#39;ve faced the doubts, the questions too,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But you know yourself, and what is true.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You&#39;ve grown from pain and learned to soar,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Your confidence shines, your spirit pure.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You don&#39;t give control to just anyone,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For you are in control, your power has begun.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But one person holds a special key,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The power to hurt, to make you feel.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You&#39;re an overthinker, yes it&#39;s true,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And sometimes words can cut like a knife too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But you rise above, you push through,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For you are a fighter, and nothing can stop you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So here&#39;s to you, a person of might,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With a heart of gold and a soul so bright.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You&#39;ve been through it all and come out on top,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And no one can dim your shining light.&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/300822970043972041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2023/02/an-ode-to-him.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/300822970043972041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/300822970043972041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2023/02/an-ode-to-him.html' title='An Ode to *Him*'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-7414519061302630561</id><published>2018-09-09T13:25:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2018-09-09T13:25:11.427+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Funny Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
After ages of commitment to something, comes a time we stand at a junction - classic imagination - not sure which way to take.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Its not just the fact that things have changed. Its just that the effort seems useless anymore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No one could interest the insides. Nothing could touch the soul as it was once touched..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There would and definitely will be a different tomorrow; probably way better than how it is today. But, its somehow &lt;b&gt;now &lt;/b&gt;that matters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Things weren&#39;t figured out for tomorrow and suddenly you&#39;ve got to take a decision - with no time to waste.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You jot down the pros and cons but somehow, its just what you decide that happens - funny life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Funny post. Helps serve the purpose atleast. ;)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Stay confused.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/7414519061302630561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2018/09/funny-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7414519061302630561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7414519061302630561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2018/09/funny-life.html' title='Funny Life'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-7476927003349907181</id><published>2016-04-11T01:37:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2016-04-11T01:37:09.033+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sleep?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
watching you sleep,&lt;br /&gt;my heart skips a beat,&lt;br /&gt;cuteness overloaded,&lt;br /&gt;brings my love held deep.&lt;br /&gt;all the things I said&lt;br /&gt;and the ones I could&lt;br /&gt;things I did,&lt;br /&gt;and the ones I could.&lt;br /&gt;time with you&lt;br /&gt;is the time I adore&lt;br /&gt;but watching you sleep,&lt;br /&gt;what else could I want more?&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/7476927003349907181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2016/04/sleep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7476927003349907181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7476927003349907181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2016/04/sleep.html' title='Sleep?'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-6412299116328799625</id><published>2015-12-29T01:15:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2015-12-29T01:41:58.517+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Dust Thou Art, Dust Thou Returnest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: xx-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Disclaimer : This might as well be one of the most shittiest posts you&#39;ve seen on the internet of late. Continue at your own risks.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;tr_bq&quot;&gt;
&lt;h4 style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&quot;Life is short. Life is beautiful.&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;h4 style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8o_4YKbdyI6nizH7GuI3e9jSyt05ubD33wYrx-I6EjUA2Nn9ZVGjkZ2Vz6cAUN5xhq1i2ti9NEpgzW6iEr0xbgtsRqLMNE5NO-MeVr8icKLdKoubyCj5iRXICw2M-Nerxnhy8HdASgQ/s1600/dust2.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8o_4YKbdyI6nizH7GuI3e9jSyt05ubD33wYrx-I6EjUA2Nn9ZVGjkZ2Vz6cAUN5xhq1i2ti9NEpgzW6iEr0xbgtsRqLMNE5NO-MeVr8icKLdKoubyCj5iRXICw2M-Nerxnhy8HdASgQ/s320/dust2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Like every other beautiful thing, even this beauty has its own perks and disadvantages. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Of
 all the things that we have, have you ever imagined the number of 
people we meet in our lives? Or think about about the ones you&#39;ve 
already met. Think about that time at school where all the people that 
really mattered was your friends. The fun you had while the teacher was 
inside, the way the lunch boxes were empty even before the break 
started, the gang-ism, the fights. Without a tension in head about the 
future without these people, we just thought they were gonna stay till 
the end. It all sounded so beautiful about how we would all go to the 
same college, get the same job, start &lt;i&gt;our&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;own &lt;/i&gt;company and live happily for the rest of our lives, together. It all so wonderful and &lt;i&gt;depress&lt;/i&gt;ing at the same time to see where we started and interesting plus frightening to see where its heading towards.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Have
 you ever sat back, looked up at the incident that took place in the 
past few months which completely changed your view towards your well 
planned future? Has it so happened that you always knew what you were 
about to do with that one beautiful soul in your life but suddenly it 
all gets messed up in your head? You can do nothing but wonder how 
things changed and why they had to be the way they did.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;tr_bq&quot;&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;tr_bq&quot;&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;tr_bq&quot;&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;tr_bq&quot;&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;tr_bq&quot;&gt;
&lt;blockquote class=&quot;tr_bq&quot;&gt;
&lt;h4 style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Regret. Fear. Loneliness.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Regret&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.
 For the things you did, and the things that you could have but didn&#39;t. 
Instead of thinking what new to try, maybe you could have just 
remembered how beautiful a thing was right in front of you. Each moment 
you wasted on things you wanted to experiment, maybe, just maybe you 
could have spent it with them. Yes, life is short. Days pass. Before you
 can think how its gonna happen, it just happens. Right when you think 
you &#39;will&#39;, all you would be left with is, what you &#39;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;could have&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&#39;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQ2sD6iZRRkGBEzazgWAFMUEKJZ28aIstnZybiEY54EMApC2b8E2KEAWcN6AEaVUV1I65m8GvkURJZDmDhiritGWn02ZpG9tu3X-710Hmf0va9sEFj_3FvY573yr5EncykJ8OhidToH4/s1600/blowing-dust.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQ2sD6iZRRkGBEzazgWAFMUEKJZ28aIstnZybiEY54EMApC2b8E2KEAWcN6AEaVUV1I65m8GvkURJZDmDhiritGWn02ZpG9tu3X-710Hmf0va9sEFj_3FvY573yr5EncykJ8OhidToH4/s400/blowing-dust.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Fear&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.
 Life, it is full of things that we want to happen but not so often do. 
All of us have a tendency to panic when its about a change in the way we
 are used to, a life we are so addicted to where even a hair that falls 
makes us imagine of our life without any hair left on our head. Sounds 
crazy, but true. Deep down, every thing that happens ultimately do drive
 you crazy, maybe even for a second or two. Now, what do you do when the
 change is about that very important person in your life who means the 
world to you now? What would you do if there is a vacuum left by that 
very person you thought the life was about? You fill it. You fill it 
with what you get first. Fear. Yes, the fear of losing them forever. The
 fear of not getting to be a part of their life like they always were. 
The fear of not letting them know how much they mean to you just because
 you think it matters to them &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;no more&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Loneliness&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.
 What could possibly happen when you have so many eyes looking after you
 and so many voices trying to light the darkest corners of your soul? &lt;i&gt;Those&lt;/i&gt;
 eyes, the ones whose gaze, brighter than the sun, the one with so much 
care that you fear will never let you fall an inch above the ground. Its
 just &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; voice, which could elixir the umbra hindered by the agony of their departure. What if they &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;never return&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;Life
 is all about making mistakes, taking chances, loving and caring for the
 ones that matter and choosing to ignore which don&#39;t. But, during all 
these mistakes and taking chances, somewhere, we do change a lot. We 
change from the way we look at the loved ones, to the way they matter to
 us. The way they see this change is really what decides the beautiful 
future that we have in our head which by now has probably staring taking
 a different shape without our knowledge.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;This is life. You come, &lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;face, adjust,&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt; suffer, adjust an&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;d the cycle continues&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;. All that remains of you is memories in the hearts &lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;of those whose life you&#39;ve altered&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;, at least as long as they live and keep your tales told.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/6412299116328799625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2015/12/dust-thou-art-dust-thou-returnest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/6412299116328799625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/6412299116328799625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2015/12/dust-thou-art-dust-thou-returnest.html' title='Dust Thou Art, Dust Thou Returnest'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8o_4YKbdyI6nizH7GuI3e9jSyt05ubD33wYrx-I6EjUA2Nn9ZVGjkZ2Vz6cAUN5xhq1i2ti9NEpgzW6iEr0xbgtsRqLMNE5NO-MeVr8icKLdKoubyCj5iRXICw2M-Nerxnhy8HdASgQ/s72-c/dust2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-7430517506281641404</id><published>2014-11-07T11:56:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2014-11-07T11:56:55.098+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Somewhere In The Middle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;A poem I came across ages back which brings back the pain even when everything is perfect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Somewhere in the middle of those conversations,&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love with you..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being from strangers to friends,&lt;br /&gt;Then the gossips to sharing secrets..&lt;br /&gt;Don&#39;t know when I started to like you..&lt;br /&gt;From those arguments to fights,&lt;br /&gt;From those likes to dislikes,&lt;br /&gt;From laughs to cries..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did share many beautiful moments with you..&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in middle of those conversations,&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love with you..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don&#39;t know how the time passed,&lt;br /&gt;For hours the conversations used to last..&lt;br /&gt;And today, its been ages we talked..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you have a guy by your side,&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow you&#39;d be someone else&#39;s bride..&lt;br /&gt;So today, I wanna tell you : &lt;br /&gt;&quot;Yeah, somewhere in the middle of those conversations,&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love with you..&quot;&lt;br /&gt;And for the rest of my life,&lt;br /&gt;I will cherish my relation with you.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/7430517506281641404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2014/11/somewhere-in-middle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7430517506281641404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7430517506281641404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2014/11/somewhere-in-middle.html' title='Somewhere In The Middle'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-338919964895879613</id><published>2014-03-01T01:43:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2018-09-09T13:47:22.891+05:30</updated><title type='text'>An Ode To My Vibes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
many a times life leaves us in a dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;
many a time it brings us what we don&#39;t want but badly need. &lt;br /&gt;
gets you hard and leaves you weak.&lt;br /&gt;
holds you bad and leaves you sick.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;you haven&#39;t got a person to cry your pain.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;not a person to tell what you feel&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;and then you realize how badly your into it&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;neither easy to come out nor easy to leave.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;you look around for something to get you over&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;something to hold to, something to stick.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;you give it a shot for that&#39;s all you can&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;get outta the world for that&#39;s all you crave for.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;you discount the life that you once lived&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;those beautiful moments you once adored.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;you leave behind all that you once considered the best&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;fantasies you had that never got concluded.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;falling into the abyss of gravity and distress,&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;you detour your life into futile torment&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;having left behind all you owned, you walk out&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;an odyssey to a route that never ends.&lt;br /&gt;
•to a place that never breathes•&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/338919964895879613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2014/03/an-ode-to-my-vibes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/338919964895879613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/338919964895879613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2014/03/an-ode-to-my-vibes.html' title='An Ode To My Vibes'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-8453948213140771766</id><published>2012-07-24T12:20:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-09-11T08:32:08.055+05:30</updated><title type='text'>She left me.. :(</title><content type='html'>&quot;she left me.. I cant live without her.. She was my life..&quot; :&#39;(&lt;br /&gt;
Well, this is what we get to hear every now n then from, maybe some friend of ours or, a mutual friend&#39;s story.&lt;br /&gt;
It all starts with an extraordianary, beyond explanation, unexplainable, etc etc, feeling, which keeps you out of the world.. Nothing looks better than talking or hanging out with the person, who makes us feel this awesomeness. Every moment with the person feels too damn special. Just TOO special!&lt;br /&gt;
But sometimes, this feeling doesn&#39;t last long. Something happens, something goes wrong, and the person who matter so much, whom you cared for much more than you can even handle, suddenly wants you to be off them. They just want you to forget them. But, mind it, they can never even imagine of you, forgetting them. Something wrong.. Mm.. Unexplainable! It comes to be the time for breaking up and STOP everything! All those moments of love, moments you always wanted to be live, and all those special moments. Oh yeah, hurts too much.. But... DUDE! Wake up! Its not the time to cry. When she/he can stay without you, then even you have to! If she can forget you, even you HAVE TO!&lt;br /&gt;
Okay, starting from scratch, why did you even love her? oh, there was something different in her? Crap it is man. It was just cuz both of you gave more amount of time to just each other than you gave anyone else to enter into you life and matter you as much. It was just cuz the other person let you hug them tight and kiss them. And it was just cuz they cared for you since you were a complete &quot;Idiot&quot;. Get it?! Oh sorry, I forgot that you are still an Idiot. How can you!?&lt;br /&gt;
If you seriously are in something such, lemme tell you, you CAN overcome. Its nothing too big until you really wanna come out of it instead of just sitting and thinking about which memory to recall and start crying all over. As I said, let others enter you life. Try and give them a chance. Not to fall in the EXTRAORDIANARY feeling once again but, to know that there are better relations than those. And we call it FRIENDSHIP. Try it. Experience it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You&#39;ll rock! \m/*.*\m/&lt;br /&gt;
MS</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/8453948213140771766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2012/07/she-left-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/8453948213140771766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/8453948213140771766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2012/07/she-left-me.html' title='She left me.. :('/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-790834057271413708</id><published>2011-11-21T17:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2017-05-24T14:55:06.564+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Mean It..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;h6 class=&quot;uiStreamMessage&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}&quot; style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;

&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;messageBody&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}&quot;&gt;Its not that I dnt trust u.. Its just that I don&#39;t trust others!&lt;br /&gt; Its not that I don&#39;t like you talking to others.. Its just want u to talk to me!&lt;br /&gt; Its not that I don&#39;t like you making new friends.. Its just that I don&#39;t want anymore enemies!&lt;br /&gt; Its not that you&#39;ll do something wrong.. Its just that others are not as good as you!&lt;br /&gt; Its not that I can&#39;t live without you.. Its just that, I wanna live with &lt;span class=&quot;text_exposed_show&quot;&gt;you..&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;feelings. duh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/790834057271413708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-mean-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/790834057271413708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/790834057271413708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-mean-it.html' title='I Mean It..'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-7432271934737436131</id><published>2011-09-19T16:44:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2017-05-24T14:56:42.883+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I am yours and you, mine...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;The wind rushes by yet the sun is steep,&lt;br /&gt;
We get so close, the feelings are deep.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You touch my hand, the current flows&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder what&#39;s next and you pull me close.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You play with letters, i watch your hair&lt;br /&gt;
The messy-ness in which you flair&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The shutter is up, the stereo is on.&lt;br /&gt;
Love flows around, you catch it all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I stare at you with so much awe.&lt;br /&gt;
With love there isn&#39;t really any flaw&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I whisper quietly ; I love you&lt;br /&gt;
N i&#39;m just meant to be with you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/7432271934737436131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-am-yours-and-you-mine.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7432271934737436131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/7432271934737436131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-am-yours-and-you-mine.html' title='I am yours and you, mine...'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-142107293752726091</id><published>2011-09-09T13:07:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-08-28T11:38:14.949+05:30</updated><title type='text'>That day.. This day..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;That was the day I first saw you. Open hair, cute face, sweet smile and everything fine. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As you walked by, people looked at you. I, admired you. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
While everyone spoke about you, I heard them talk and picked out only the positive point and kept them near my heart, always.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As you spoke, people struggled to understand, but me, struggled to hear your voice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember the first time you saw me. Aww. How can I forget that.. Butterflies disturbed me a lot!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember out first chat on fb. As soon as you sent &#39;hi&#39; I jumped around in happiness! (This was a secret)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember the first time I talked to you. It felt like some organ stopped responding. And later, I found it was my heart.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember how you gave me your number on asking once. Many others failed in that!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember the first time you texted me. I felt like &quot;yippee&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember how we chatted for days and nights just asking anything and everything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember how I didn&#39;t eat for long on hearing that you didn&#39;t feel like eating..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember the day you replied &#39;I love you&#39; for &#39;I don&#39;t hate you&#39;. I actually fainted on reading that! When I woke up, there were 4 of your texts awaiting reply!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember the day I met you somewhere out. It wasnt for long, yet, it was long enough...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finally I remember the day I proposed you... &lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
And now you want me to forget that!?&lt;br /&gt;
No! Not possible. At least not with me..!&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/142107293752726091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/09/that-day-this-day.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/142107293752726091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/142107293752726091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/09/that-day-this-day.html' title='That day.. This day..'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-1846881469290271429</id><published>2011-08-31T11:49:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-31T13:37:38.681+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Tech is parting us?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
In this modern world as that of ours, people are not as far as google maps or the atlas tells. We are all coonected with the most common but yet the most powerful gadgets and technology. iPhone, iPads, Tabs, etc, are things which almost all of us own.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW9lQMQhLO3QU3cH5ZnR14daBC1mNqvXVriGGa9zAIwcVNfuAhalrlrS4G-vlV0DQ3loQstrE92cDhUya6NM0NhX9mgLZYJPEfdKVG8jPXS98cqsZciDG8qXQNEoBdismglDTKl4GihQ/s1600/NoTech.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW9lQMQhLO3QU3cH5ZnR14daBC1mNqvXVriGGa9zAIwcVNfuAhalrlrS4G-vlV0DQ3loQstrE92cDhUya6NM0NhX9mgLZYJPEfdKVG8jPXS98cqsZciDG8qXQNEoBdismglDTKl4GihQ/s400/NoTech.jpg&quot; width=&quot;308&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Even a normal street beggar begs with a hand and talks over 3G to his other family members, who do the same &#39;job&#39; at the other corner of the street, asking how much they have earned! :-P&lt;br /&gt;
But, even while having so many gadgets and technology on our fingertips, do we have time to experience the true love with our family members or the other loved ones? Do you think they can talk over &quot;3G&quot; for as long as they would have talked when they were separated for some days or weeks or even months? Do you think they really talk something or is it just a formality to be completed? &lt;br /&gt;
Think Think.. THIS IS 21st century! O:)&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/1846881469290271429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/08/tech-is-parting-us.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/1846881469290271429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/1846881469290271429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/08/tech-is-parting-us.html' title='Tech is parting us?'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW9lQMQhLO3QU3cH5ZnR14daBC1mNqvXVriGGa9zAIwcVNfuAhalrlrS4G-vlV0DQ3loQstrE92cDhUya6NM0NhX9mgLZYJPEfdKVG8jPXS98cqsZciDG8qXQNEoBdismglDTKl4GihQ/s72-c/NoTech.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-3887698596113035921</id><published>2011-08-25T20:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-25T20:55:39.795+05:30</updated><title type='text'>O Girl!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvs3wBxnzzFediQJkK9HUVSx42dJ6AV2zK0PSVChyEIui3WBbqBilw-4Ew_ahINRaqzTjcYnmEHC9H_FIxFWeHXS2HzTHMWfnKsfFirK38SbHUXd25CckaejbmuaHZIg126WsMKmVAbw/s1600/34663566.gif&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;317&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvs3wBxnzzFediQJkK9HUVSx42dJ6AV2zK0PSVChyEIui3WBbqBilw-4Ew_ahINRaqzTjcYnmEHC9H_FIxFWeHXS2HzTHMWfnKsfFirK38SbHUXd25CckaejbmuaHZIg126WsMKmVAbw/s320/34663566.gif&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Each moment feels like an year,&lt;br /&gt;
Each second feels another,&lt;br /&gt;
What have you done to me, O girl!&lt;br /&gt;
Why can&#39;t I just stop to bother!?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All I want is to hear you again,&lt;br /&gt;
that is enough to heal my pain.&lt;br /&gt;
Give me a glance of yourself, O girl!&lt;br /&gt;
You are mine and only my pearl.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thinking of you my day passed by,&lt;br /&gt;
You are the one for whom I can die.&lt;br /&gt;
Trust me always, always O girl!&lt;br /&gt;
Coz you&#39;re mine, making my heart twirl!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is just a few lines describing my love for you. Please. Never leave me alone. I ll have no other alternative than..... :-)&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/3887698596113035921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/08/o-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/3887698596113035921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/3887698596113035921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/08/o-girl.html' title='O Girl!'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvs3wBxnzzFediQJkK9HUVSx42dJ6AV2zK0PSVChyEIui3WBbqBilw-4Ew_ahINRaqzTjcYnmEHC9H_FIxFWeHXS2HzTHMWfnKsfFirK38SbHUXd25CckaejbmuaHZIg126WsMKmVAbw/s72-c/34663566.gif" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615292154806980448.post-643709705620871055</id><published>2011-01-14T20:15:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-18T17:22:27.192+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abstract"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Others"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="perspicacious"/><title type='text'>That someone...</title><content type='html'>Hmm.. I am not so much sure about blogging since&amp;nbsp;I have started it just because I was inspired by someone. Someone who is really a great blogger. That someone who keeps adding posts per posts which are just amazing!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.trulygraphics.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/sad-butterfly.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://www.trulygraphics.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/sad-butterfly.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;That person usually talks about being happy. But unfortunately she is the one who is making me sad. I don&#39;t really think it was my mistake at all. It&#39;s just that I tried to help that person. The same person even tells not to&amp;nbsp;get&amp;nbsp;upset or&amp;nbsp;take small things seriously. But once again it is the same person who&amp;nbsp;is taking the smallest of the &#39;things&#39; fervently.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just wanna tell that it&#39;s almost everything the person does or shows in their online activities is related to their real life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mrinal</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/feeds/643709705620871055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/01/that-someone.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/643709705620871055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8615292154806980448/posts/default/643709705620871055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stumpedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/01/that-someone.html' title='That someone...'/><author><name>Mrinal Singh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04878739694841002154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>