<?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-7302163406909682199</id><updated>2024-11-05T18:56:43.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MY SELF-INFLICTION OF EMOTIONAL DISTRESS</title><subtitle type='html'>Purely mixed dim emotions</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-4729195802179393250</id><published>2008-11-20T18:39:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T18:49:52.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A teardrop</title><content type='html'>a teardrop...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a mere drop of water cascading down your cheeks a minute particle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;its mainly water.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and yet it concludes an entire story.. &gt;.&lt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/4729195802179393250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/4729195802179393250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/4729195802179393250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/4729195802179393250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/teardrop.html' title='A teardrop'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-2549397523363725207</id><published>2008-11-19T19:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T19:50:29.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustrating realizations</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;You find the perfect love, but in a wrong time&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;You find the perfect person, but he/she is not in love with you&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;you find the perfect one, but you must be loyal to someone else&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;you got the perfect looks, but no one takes you seriously&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;you met the perfect personality, but your bound to be just friends&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;you got brains, but got a frail heart&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;you find the courage, but it&#39;s just too late&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;your ready to love, but you dont know where to start&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;phew! damn how ironic life can be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/2549397523363725207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/2549397523363725207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/2549397523363725207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/2549397523363725207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/frustrating-realizations.html' title='Frustrating realizations'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-3591221245091611378</id><published>2008-11-18T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T19:50:30.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SLEEPING FACT</title><content type='html'>why&#39;s everybody love sleeping? have you ever wondered about that? or have not?&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i love sleeping, i spent alot of my time sleeping nowadays. wanna know why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;well its because sleeping is my only way of escaping from the pain which i cant bear when im awake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/3591221245091611378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/3591221245091611378' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3591221245091611378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3591221245091611378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/sleeping-fact.html' title='SLEEPING FACT'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-6457736582346236024</id><published>2008-11-18T02:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T02:43:22.758-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS IS SO TRUE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;being dumped&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;taken for granted&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;hurt by the one they love&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is the reason why many people choose to FLIRT than to be in a RELATIONSHIP. count me in :(&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/6457736582346236024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/6457736582346236024' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/6457736582346236024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/6457736582346236024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-is-so-true.html' title='THIS IS SO TRUE!'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-7419679609285062890</id><published>2008-11-18T00:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T00:49:13.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What you really afraid of</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;your not scared of the dark. your scared of whats in it&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;your not afraid of heights. your afraid of fallen&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;your not afraid of the people around you. your just afraid of rejection&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;your not afraid to love. your just afraid of not being loved back&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;your not afraid to try again. your just afraid of getting hurt for the same reason.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/7419679609285062890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/7419679609285062890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7419679609285062890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7419679609285062890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-you-really-afraid-of.html' title='What you really afraid of'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-7918778282601635225</id><published>2008-11-18T00:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T00:13:04.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotes to live by</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;a day without laughter is a waster day - CHARLIE CHAPLIN&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;a true friend stabs you in the front - OSCAR WILDE&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never explain; your friends don&#39;t need it and your enemies wont believe you anyway - ELBERT HUBBARD&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;if you&#39;re not curious, its a sign that you are stupid - Dr. FRANK CRANE&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;its better to be hated for what you are than be loved for what you are not - ANDRE GIDE&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;its never too late to be what might have been - GEORGE ELLIOT&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/7918778282601635225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/7918778282601635225' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7918778282601635225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7918778282601635225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/quotes-to-live-by.html' title='Quotes to live by'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-2506264352603293538</id><published>2008-11-17T21:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T22:37:21.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Science vs Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;if all sciences in the world can explain everything.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can PHYSICS explain why we fall in love with someone without being affected by gravity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why cant LOGIC helps us make things right when we are in love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;would CHEMISTRY give us the chemical elements of love and its formula?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can ANATOMY locate the scars in our hearts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can PHYSIOLOGY explain why the heart still beats even if its &quot;BROKEN&quot;?&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/2506264352603293538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/2506264352603293538' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/2506264352603293538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/2506264352603293538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/science-vs-love.html' title='Science vs Love'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-5861783575240623449</id><published>2008-11-17T18:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T19:48:32.638-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MOVING BACK TO WHERE I STARTED</title><content type='html'>i just feel like coming back to the place where i truly belong haha&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/5861783575240623449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/5861783575240623449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/5861783575240623449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/5861783575240623449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/11/moving-back-to-where-i-started.html' title='MOVING BACK TO WHERE I STARTED'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-7151669751913053449</id><published>2008-07-27T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T19:48:21.354-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MOVING OUT MY ASS OUTA HERE!</title><content type='html'>yow,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im moving out of this host. we just buyed new host so we can configured our blog more. but personally i love blogspot this is where i start to blog..goodbye blogspot yet still this blog remains unforgotten :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;moving to: &lt;a href=&quot;http://self-inflicted.blog4fun.org&quot;&gt;http://self-inflicted.blog4fun.org&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheers,&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/7151669751913053449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/7151669751913053449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7151669751913053449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7151669751913053449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/07/moving-out-my-ass-outa-here.html' title='MOVING OUT MY ASS OUTA HERE!'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-5822213080086547513</id><published>2008-07-08T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T20:00:35.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE LAST SONG</title><content type='html'>This may be the last thing that I write for long&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear me smiling when I sing this song?&lt;br /&gt;For you and only you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I leave will you be someone to say good-bye?, As I leave will you be someone to wipe your eye?, My foot is out the door and you can&#39;t stop me now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hearts start breaking as the year is gone, The dream&#39;s beginning and the time rolls on, It seems so surreal And now I sing it, Somehow I knew that it would be this way, Somehow I knew that it would slowly fade, Now I am gone, Just try and stop me now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wanted the best It wasn&#39;t me, Will you give it back? Now I&#39;ll take the lead, When there&#39;s no more room to make it grow, I&#39;ll see you again, You&#39;ll pretend you&#39;re naive, Is this what you want?, Is this what you need?, How you end up? Let me know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I go remember all the simple things you know&lt;br /&gt;My mind is just a crutch and I still hope&lt;br /&gt;That you will miss me when I&#39;m gone&lt;br /&gt;This is the last song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AAR&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/5822213080086547513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/5822213080086547513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/5822213080086547513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/5822213080086547513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/07/last-song.html' title='THE LAST SONG'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-7968938209170669077</id><published>2008-07-05T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T08:15:52.225-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Escape</title><content type='html'>There was no reason to believe we had no future… we could have one; we could have everything we wanted together, if only those fools would listen. my eyes flashed dangerously as i remembered how they dragged her away from me. How she screamed, how she begged, how she desperately reached for me and with a final cry admit her love. i could not let them take her away…not from them. Not when we have so much ahead of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;listen to me, my love. We can go someplace, where they can never find us, and we can be together...forever!&quot;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/7968938209170669077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/7968938209170669077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7968938209170669077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/7968938209170669077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/07/great-escape.html' title='Great Escape'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-927081300074180117</id><published>2008-06-14T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T08:54:52.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Send my love to heaven</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight:bold;&quot;&gt;Just a short but a must read story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can I say about a girl I loved since I was ten... that I love the way she laughs at me when I commit mistakes, the way she fusses over silly things and even the way she cries over some sad silly late night show...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was my best friend and I have known her since we were small. She knew all my secrets, which reveals my feelings for her, that I love her not only because she&#39;s pretty and smart but also the way she laughs at everything and the way she sees life and love. I could still remember the first time we met; I was five years old then. It was one windy afternoon having no one to play with except for my best friend, Troy. He and his family just moved out to a neighboring state at transfer because his father got promoted. And so I climbed up our tree house, I saw a moving truck coming down the street. I watched it approaching and noticed a family station wagon following it. It stopped in front of the house and out came a family. I was about to glance away when came out the loveliest girl I&#39;ve ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was four years old that time but then even at an early age she was a beauty. She had long curly hair, which reached almost to her waist. She had fair complexion and eyes which could make a man lose his heart into them. I continued to watch her when suddenly she looked up and saw me watching them in the tree house window. I was about to duck when she smiled and waved her hand. I waved back and then watched in amazement as I saw her running towards the tree house. So I went to the edge of the ladder and said, &quot;Would you like to come up?&quot; she answered, &quot;May I?&quot; So I help her climb up and when she reached the top she then turned to me and said, &quot;By the way, my name&#39;s Sam, what&#39;s yours?&quot; I answered, &quot;My name is Christopher but then you can call me Chris.&quot; She smiled and said, &quot;Well I like your name. Hey your tree house&#39;s neat!&quot; then I replied, &quot;Thanks! Troy and I made this. This used to be our hide out. We used to goof around, play ball and go biking together. He was my best friend and I kind of miss him you know.&quot; She smiled and said &quot;I&#39;m here now, we could do things you do with Troy and I could be your new best friend too. I never had a boy for a friend before so it could be exciting to have one. I could learn how to play ball and I have my bicycle so we could go biking together. Now how does that sound to you?&quot; I smiled and said, &quot;Well that sounds good enough.&quot; Then she held her hand and said, &quot;It&#39;s a deal then!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that&#39;s how it started. So we became best friends and it was kind of strange at first for she was a girl and there are things which I was little bit hesitant to indulge her like catching frogs, swimming in the lake and climbing trees, but then she tried and did everything just to please me. There was even a time when she fell off the bike trying to catch up with me in a race we had and I was the one who bandaged her scraped knee. I could still remember the time when she hit the window of our neighbor when we were playing baseball and it was I who talked to Mr. Chambers and promised to pay for the damage, which meant having to loose a week&#39;s allowance. I remembered the time when I fell off the tree when I tried to rescue a little kitten because Sam was near to tears when she saw the helpless kitten trapped in a branch. I even fought with the tough guy when they teased Sam and made her cry and I ended up having a black eye and a bruised cheek. I remember Sam crying as she placed an ice bag over the damaged eye and later gave it a get-well kiss. I did everything to please her and gave everything her little heart desires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lake was our favorite hang out. We had our Saturday swim routine. We would pack food and later eat them under the big oak tree. There was a special branch in which the two of us could sit together and tell each other&#39;s dreams. She dreams of being a Ballerina and she knows my dream of becoming a doctor. She never laughs at my dreams and pursuits even if they were quite impossible. It made me like her even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As years went by, I noticed that my feelings towards her were slowly changing. Somehow, I thought it was just a simple crush case. But when I started thinking about her at night, dreaming of her and having the feeling of wanting to be with her all the time, I thought it was something different, something that made me feel strange, but then it was exhilarating feeling. It made me feel so alive. Whenever our hands touch, I could feel the tingling sensation in my spine. Once when we were at the lake having our Saturday swim routine and as I carried her towards the water edge, I had the feeling of not wanting to let go. I just wanted that moment to continue hoping it would never end. I then realized I was slowly falling in love with my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times I tried to deny the feeling for I was scared to imagine what would happen if ever I&#39;d try to tell her how I feel about her. I was scared because she might think that I&#39;m taking advantage of her and our friendship. I was afraid of losing her so I just kept my feeling hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We reached the age of fifteen and I noticed that Sam grew lovelier each day. How my heart aches wherever I see boys glance her way. I want to punch their noses as I watch them talking to her giving compliments, flowers and chocolates. There were times when I watch her at a distance with mixed feelings of anger and hurt! Because it hurts so much to know that there were so many things I wanted to tell her but then I could not do so. There were so many presents which I long to give her but then I could not for she might see me only as a friend. I was also scared of letting her know how I feel about her as much as losing her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day, I just learned from a friend that she already had a boyfriend. At first, I tried to convince myself that it was just a rumor. Her boyfriend was Mark, a popular senior, who was the heartthrob of the campus. She, being the cheerleader was close to the basketball team to which Mark was the captain. When I saw them walking together at the parking lot that afternoon, I watched her with my heart slowly breaking into pieces. I saw her wave at me but I just pretended not to see her for I was scared that she might see in my eyes the pain I&#39;m feeling inside because of seeing her with another guy. Those days that followed where the saddest days of my life. How my heart aches when I see her walk by me with him at her side. Every time we meet in hallways and I see him around her, there&#39;s a feeling inside me that makes me want to grab her away from him. How it hurts to see the girl I long possess was now owned by somebody else. That special smile I long for her to cast on me was now casted on him. As she passes by me she doesn&#39;t know that I whisper the words &quot;God how I love you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one faithful day they broke up. She came too me that evening crying on my shoulder. They had a big fight and it ended up with their break up. Mixed feelings were scaring me inside. I was happy because she was free and maybe I would have the chance of telling her my true feelings for her but then I was feeling so bad because she is crying her heart out just for him. At that time, I was not quite sure of what I wanted to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we found ourselves doing what we did in old days with our Saturday swim routine, spending time in our tree house. We still enjoyed doing childish pranks for we still are both young at heart. So many chances I had for me to confess my feelings for her but still I couldn&#39;t bring myself to her for I was scared of losing her once more. I once lost her, now I could not bear of losing her again by telling her, &quot;I love her&quot;. So I just kept my feelings even if it was bursting to be expressed from my aching heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a week from our JS Prom, we were seated at the branch of an oak tree drying ourselves after our afternoon swim when she said, &quot;I was wondering Chris if you would like to be my partner?&quot; It just got out of my wits for it was like a dream I never thought would happen. It took me awhile to answer her, &quot;I thought there are so many boys who would die for you to be their partner?&quot; So she turned away and quietly said, &quot;Well I just thought I would like to spend that night with my best friend.&quot; Then she continued in a whisper I could barely hear, &quot;Don&#39;t you want to die just like them to be my partner Chris?&quot; I was too stunned to speak for it came close for me to blurt my feelings for her. We… we&#39;re silent for a while until I finally whispered, &quot;I would be happy to be your partner Sam. &quot;The she smiled and suddenly kissed my cheek. I could hardly contain the joy I felt that time. I saw her turned red and bowed her head. Suddenly she stood up and run towards the water saying, &quot;Last one to reach the water treats to sundae fudge!”I ran slowed up so that I would lose which meant having to have her with me for another three hours or more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Prom night came. I bought a new tuxedo and poured almost the entire bottle of perfume. I went to fetch Sam. Sam&#39;s mother greeted me and I went to sit in the living room waiting for her to come down. I was talking to her father when I heard her say, &quot;How do I look?&quot; I look up and saw her lovelier than ever in a strapless white dress with her hair flowing around her face. I stood up and opened my mouth but found out I could not find my voice. Then I got her hand shakily fastened the corsage around her wrist and whispered, &quot;To the loveliest girl in the whole world.&quot; She then asked, &quot;Is that true?&quot; I nodded and she smiled and I smiled back then I turned to open the door for her. When we arrived at the gymnasium we hardly recognized our classmates. Gone were the jeans and T-shirts. They were replaced with tuxedos and gowns. Then I held out her hand bowed and said, &quot;Would you give me the honor of your first dance?&quot; She laughed and curtseyed. Then I led her to the dance floor. It was like a dream coming true, a moment of enchantment. I was there dancing with the only girl I ever loved. She was smiling up to me, as we were slowly moving in a smooth gliding motion. I found myself lost as I stared down to her sparkling eyes. The curls of her long hair were like waves enhancing her beautiful face. There were so many things I wanted to tell her that moment. I wanted to tell that she was the most beautiful girl that night. I wanted to tell her that she would always be the beacon of light in my darkness, but what I wanted to tell her the most was that I love her. I drew up all my courage and bent to whisper it in her ear but suddenly the music stopped and the magic was gone. I came close to telling her, but still haven&#39;t done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked towards the table and found ourselves surrounded by friends. I asked her if she wanted a drink, she nodded and so I went to get one. It took me a long time to get one and when I returned to our table, she was gone. I asked her friend, Katie, where she was but she told me that she doesn&#39;t know. So I went to search for her. As I was searching for her, I reached the garden. There I saw two silhouette figures outlined by the moon&#39;s silvery light. They were so close to each other that I could never describe the feeling I had when I recognized the white dress that Sam was wearing that night. I just turned and left the gymnasium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since that night, I avoided her. Many times she tried talking to me but I never gave her the chance to do so. I was afraid to hear her say that she loves Mark and not me. I would rather have left in ignorance of her true feelings for me than to hear from those dreaded words and feel my hope crush and my heart break. I didn&#39;t return her calls. I would not see her if she comes into our house. In the hallways, as she approaches I would go to another direction. It also hurts to do those things but then I thought that was the best way to forget her. Those months were tormenting but still I kept my pride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day of our graduation came. I was planning to take up medicine at a neighboring state and was to move out the next day. As the program ended, she approached me and handed me a rose. As she stared at me, there was something in her eyes I couldn&#39;t describe. There was sadness in them and when she smiled it wasn&#39;t the same smile she had. I wanted to hug her at that moment, tell her that I love her but then she turned and walked away from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I moved out the next day as I planned. Luckily, I was accepted at the university. I concentrated with my studies but still I think of her at night. I was always wondering if she thinks of me too. I tried hard not to think of her but still I could not stop myself from loving her. Each achievement I have was done for her. I thought that if I will be successful one day, I would be able to tell her that I love her and by that time, I&#39;m worthy of having her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a year after our graduation when I decided to return home and see her again. I thought a year is too much for me not to see her and during the past year I felt like a person lost in the desert and only the sight of her could quench the thirst I have inside. As I got off the plane, I went home directly, desperate to get to her house desperate to see her, to hug her. Then I would tell her that I missed her and that I have loved her for a long time. This time I am determined to let her know my true feelings for her and I could not contain anymore the love I have for her. I reached their house; I saw her elder sister and I approached her. I smiled at her but I noticed she didn&#39;t smile back. I was confused for she used to be a cheerful lady just like my dear Sam. I then asked, &quot;Hi Jen! I guess you&#39;re surprised why I&#39;m here. Well I just want to visit you and I was also hoping to see Sam. I kind of miss her you know. Mmm… by the way have you seen her?&quot; All I saw was sadness in her eyes as she replied quietly &quot;Come follow me.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was confused with the way she&#39;s acting but still I followed her. As we were walking, I was trying to indulge her in a conversation but she just answered my question briefly. Then I realized that she was leading me to the direction of the lake. It was still the same as I left it, with the same oak tree, Sam and I used to climb up. I smiled upon remembering the kiss Sam gave me when I agreed to be her partner. It&#39;s been one of the happiest days in my life and I realized that I missed Sam more than I thought. Then Jen stopped walking and pointed to the tree. She then whispered, &quot;There&#39;s Sam.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at where she was pointing and saw a newly dug tomb with the name of the girl I ever loved. I could not believe at what I saw and desperately tried convincing myself that this is all just a nightmare and I would soon wake up. I stared at Jenny in disbelief with her eyes searching for explanations and she slowly started saying, &quot;It has been a week since she died. She died of Leukemia, but even though she was sick, she never stopped thinking about you. It was even your name she uttered before she died. She asked us to bury her here for she always regards this place as a place of LOVE. She said that this is where she had spent the happiest days and that was when she was with you. By the way, she also asked me to give you this.&quot; She handed me a parcel and with that she left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slowly opened the parcel and saw that it contained the dried orchid from the corsage I gave her for our prom. Then at the bottom I saw a letter. It was dated last month. I opened it with shaking hands and started reading........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******************************&lt;br /&gt;I know… by this time you read this letter I&#39;m gone. I just want to tell you that I feel very lucky and thankful to God that I had a friend like you. I would also like you to know that I had left something inside, something I kept from you all these years. I love you Chris, not in a friendly way but as one who would feel like spending the rest of my life with. I have always loved you even from the start. I guess it just bloomed each day that&#39;s why the happiest days of my life was… when you were by my side. You just don&#39;t know how I dreamed of you at night and wake up in the morning and dream no more for you were with me. When you were away, I can&#39;t stop crying because I was afraid to think that you are with another girl. I just can&#39;t bear to see you with another girl. I just want you all to myself. I may sound selfish but that&#39;s how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each time, you held me close to you, was like a dream coming true, for to be close to you and feel your heart beating next to mine was like heaven. So many things I did so that you will learn to love me but I NEVER saw a hint. I did everything to please you because I love you so much that I even tried to fool myself that you&#39;re in love with me too. So many nights I&#39;ve cried when I think of myself unloved by you. Well you might think that what I&#39;m saying are lies but, I tell you, my heart speaks the truth for I cannot bear telling a lie to the one I love. I know you might be thinking of Mark; but I just did that to make you jealous, to make you see me as a young woman, capable of loving and not as the little girl you used to play with. Sometimes I imagined that you were jealous and fooled myself that it was a sign that you feel something for me too. When Mark and I broke up and I came crying, I just did that to know… how you would react and with that I&#39;ll know that you love me too. But I failed for you didn&#39;t give me any clue. When our prom night came, you just don&#39;t know how happy I was when you handed me the corsage and saying that I was the loveliest girl in the whole world. While we were dancing, I wanted so desperately to hear you say that you love me too but you NEVER did. When Mark came and pleaded me to give him a second chance, I was scared that you might see us talking. I didn&#39;t want you to get the wrong impression so I told him we would talk in the garden. There I explained to him that it&#39;s you whom I really love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened next was that I found you missing and later learned that you were searching for me, I just concluded that you saw us together. The next day, I tried to explain but then you never gave me a chance to do so. You continuously avoided me and never knew how much pain I&#39;ve experienced that time. I felt the world crushing on me. In our Graduation day, when I approached you, I wanted to tell you… how much I loved you but I decided that I just couldn&#39;t do it. I could not bear to hear that all you feel for me is just brotherly hand of love. For I want you to love me as a woman and not as a girl or playmate. So I just turned away and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that saying I LOVE YOU might be too late, but still I want you to know that I will always love you and my heart has always been and will be yours alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: Think of me sometimes... and always remember that loving you was the best thing that ever happened in my life.&lt;br /&gt;************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt my tears falling as I folded the letter. I wanted to shout out to let her know that I love her, if not as much, but more than she did for me. I love her more than anything in this world. I knelt touching the soil of her grave and rain started to fall. I continued crying softly and whispered, &quot;Oh God, send my love to heaven.&quot;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/927081300074180117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/927081300074180117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/927081300074180117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/927081300074180117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/06/send-my-love-to-heaven.html' title='Send my love to heaven'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-8452909780246328623</id><published>2008-06-11T03:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T03:46:29.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One upon a June</title><content type='html'>Such happy memory… Finished. The scenery changed. The gathering illusion went back to its present state. My eyes filled with tears and i let them roll down, as well as your imaginary face, appearing back into a blank wall. everything changed back to what it was before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then i had enough. I heard the voice of you calling me during my disaster. I gasped, almost laughing, and pronounced the feeling i felt for you.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/8452909780246328623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/8452909780246328623' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8452909780246328623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8452909780246328623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/06/one-upon-june.html' title='One upon a June'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-3108534467729079060</id><published>2008-06-06T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T21:07:09.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gitchi gitchi goo</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width=&quot;425&quot; height=&quot;344&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;movie&quot; value=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/v/j3lplAHNg6k&amp;hl=en&quot;&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/v/j3lplAHNg6k&amp;hl=en&quot; type=&quot;application/x-shockwave-flash&quot; width=&quot;325&quot; height=&quot;344&quot;&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bow, chicka, bow-wow&lt;br /&gt;That&#39;s what my baby says&lt;br /&gt;Mow, mow, mow&lt;br /&gt;And my heart starts pumpin&#39;&lt;br /&gt;Chicka, chicka, chew-op&lt;br /&gt;Never gonna stop&lt;br /&gt;Gitchi-gitchi-goo means that I love you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wew, this song tight cant get out of my head..kids can tell! :]]&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/3108534467729079060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/3108534467729079060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3108534467729079060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3108534467729079060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/06/gitchi-gitchi-goo.html' title='Gitchi gitchi goo'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-3262772501579423376</id><published>2008-06-05T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T06:12:07.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dressed to kill</title><content type='html'>I know it&#39;s hard for you&lt;br /&gt;To understand what I&#39;m going through&lt;br /&gt;But now I sit here to remind myself&lt;br /&gt;You&#39;re always dressed to kill&lt;br /&gt;And you feel like you owe it to the world&lt;br /&gt;But you owe it to yourself&lt;br /&gt;And you&#39;re, you&#39;re not here&lt;br /&gt;And I can&#39;t stop pretending&lt;br /&gt;That you&#39;re forever mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheer up my friends all say&lt;br /&gt;You&#39;re better alone anyways&lt;br /&gt;But you&#39;re always on tour&lt;br /&gt;And you&#39;re never home&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;m always dressed to kill&lt;br /&gt;And I feel like I owe it to the world&lt;br /&gt;But I owe it to myself&lt;br /&gt;And you&#39;re, you&#39;re not here&lt;br /&gt;And I can&#39;t stop pretending&lt;br /&gt;That you&#39;re forever mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can&#39;t dream anymore since you left&lt;br /&gt;I miss you singing me to sleep&lt;br /&gt;I can&#39;t wake anymore in your arms&lt;br /&gt;I miss you singing me to sleep&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/3262772501579423376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/3262772501579423376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3262772501579423376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3262772501579423376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/06/dressed-to-kill.html' title='Dressed to kill'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-6393490639152569361</id><published>2008-06-04T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T09:22:09.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In to you - always be my baby</title><content type='html'>I don&#39;t think we ever thought of one another as friends. Or maybe we did...it was long ago right?, I can&#39;t remember much anymore. But whatever we were then, it doesn&#39;t matter now. I love you, that all that matter for sure and it will be forever. You may think forever is a lie, yet never my love speak false. i wanted to live for you until the end of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..must have faith!&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/6393490639152569361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/6393490639152569361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/6393490639152569361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/6393490639152569361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/06/in-to-you.html' title='In to you - always be my baby'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-8647138063122277454</id><published>2008-06-03T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T02:30:09.329-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep bleeding</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggamscJIagWCFVE3gIZtA-ULHM4j9oIPDYaV4H86Z1qzxxWizufIhEwaCdi6HOl0rLf0XQi8naLexuAE9A9CbD9lUdeKfEZHWX7nq8SPcJNCMK77QaOrp_ekRQaxoSiVq_5iF1PHJ-y3lY/s1600-h/beebEe+koh..+mwah.._edited.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggamscJIagWCFVE3gIZtA-ULHM4j9oIPDYaV4H86Z1qzxxWizufIhEwaCdi6HOl0rLf0XQi8naLexuAE9A9CbD9lUdeKfEZHWX7nq8SPcJNCMK77QaOrp_ekRQaxoSiVq_5iF1PHJ-y3lY/s400/beebEe+koh..+mwah.._edited.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208017741916304850&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time you smile it cuts my heart open and makes me love you even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are my escape. When the world is bad, I picture you telling me everything’s okay. And I get through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, no matter what anyone says. You are my stronghold, you are everything to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you touch me it feels like all my love is coming out of the spot where your hand lays. And it’s draining all of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart’s crippled by the vein that I keep on closing&lt;br /&gt;They can tell me all they want that you’re not right for me, so not care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All i know, i love you my little miss sunshine.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/8647138063122277454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/8647138063122277454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8647138063122277454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8647138063122277454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/06/keep-bleeding.html' title='Keep bleeding'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggamscJIagWCFVE3gIZtA-ULHM4j9oIPDYaV4H86Z1qzxxWizufIhEwaCdi6HOl0rLf0XQi8naLexuAE9A9CbD9lUdeKfEZHWX7nq8SPcJNCMK77QaOrp_ekRQaxoSiVq_5iF1PHJ-y3lY/s72-c/beebEe+koh..+mwah.._edited.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-3902393626915107744</id><published>2008-05-30T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T17:03:02.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the past be buried</title><content type='html'>How i missed her so very much. So much that it hurt to watch the scene unfold, hurt to be reminded of something we once had, and what would never be mine again. She was gone, and too far to be seen. While i once would have marked the sunset as beautiful, i now passed over such grandeurs with a grunt and slight annoyance. for each whole day shed been debating whether or not to just look at my past anyway, but a deeper feeling, and my self-made barrier, said that it would be better to move on.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/3902393626915107744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/3902393626915107744' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3902393626915107744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3902393626915107744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/let-past-be-buried.html' title='Let the past be buried'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-8817510877551228552</id><published>2008-05-29T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T09:12:00.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Left Over</title><content type='html'>Living from the passed.. trapped beyond it all, in a vertible hell. It seems that my life is over. My imprisonment is forevermore there is no escape.. all I can do sit here and seem shallow sore. Face streamed with tears, always seeming a smile Is nothing but a shadow of my former self. My mind had gone crazy with sadness, an emotion I thought I didn’t possess, and I had fallen to my knees, sobbing. I hadn’t feel that in ages, she had awakened an unknown emotion inside of me, something I had known long before...alone!&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/8817510877551228552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/8817510877551228552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8817510877551228552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8817510877551228552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/left-over.html' title='Left Over'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-4114293238461749103</id><published>2008-05-26T01:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T02:01:23.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello</title><content type='html'>rain come to play again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared into the dark sky of cerulean. the watery elusion comforted me in unearthly way. my eyes flamed for a moment as you turned your back and walk. If I smile and don’t believe, maybe soon I know I’ll wake from this nightmare,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hello.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t try to fix me I’m not broken, i knew that there was nothing i could do for now. I just wished i could kiss you one last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don&#39;t wanna cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i cried for you then, not caring what people thought. i loved you more than anything. still not believing and just stared..and stared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;suddenly i know im not sleeping,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hello?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m still here all that’s left of yesterday...&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/4114293238461749103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/4114293238461749103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/4114293238461749103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/4114293238461749103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/hello.html' title='Hello'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-3754314707947038149</id><published>2008-05-22T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T08:15:27.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Through the hidden holes in time</title><content type='html'>for some reason i am forced to believe a place that is actually not existed in this world. a place called BEND OF TIME..it is an enchanted place where you can use time travel portal, a wormhole that will take you anywhere in time. if only i knew where it was, then ill disperse all the things, thoughts and even my memories i have from my present and cross from time to time wishing ill find myself having you in my life..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...somewhere on my future.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/3754314707947038149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/3754314707947038149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3754314707947038149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3754314707947038149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/through-hidden-holes-in-time.html' title='Through the hidden holes in time'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-727848604324400542</id><published>2008-05-22T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T08:01:25.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When lost souls wander...</title><content type='html'>I thought about a lot of things...&lt;br /&gt;like where I was, what I&#39;d got myself into.&lt;br /&gt;I started to feel light-headed... and then, sleepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I had a dream.&lt;br /&gt;A dream of being alone.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted someone--anyone, beside me...&lt;br /&gt;so I didn&#39;t have to feel alone... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..anymore.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/727848604324400542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/727848604324400542' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/727848604324400542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/727848604324400542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/when-lost-souls-wander.html' title='When lost souls wander...'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-1160506892830927928</id><published>2008-05-20T00:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T01:01:17.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Abduction Is Over</title><content type='html'>I always talked about you. How you were a very special person to me, because you teach me the proper meaning of love. You taught me that life doesn&#39;t last forever. That&#39;s why we have to help each other and live our life to the fullest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What to do when I felt lonely... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the only thing you couldn&#39;t teach me. But we need to figure out the answer for ourselves... I&#39;m so happy I met you... I wish we could&#39;ve patch things up and be together that day. But I guess we have to say goodbye someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our memories will be part of the sky...&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/1160506892830927928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/1160506892830927928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/1160506892830927928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/1160506892830927928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/abduction-is-over.html' title='The Abduction Is Over'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-3799227049829551153</id><published>2008-05-17T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T20:23:09.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing has changed but everything!</title><content type='html'>As always, I feel the loss as I&#39;m pulled awake by the usual summons. Every moment seems like forever and I count the minutes until it&#39;ll be time to do something else, but whenever sunset approaches, I find it hard to believe the whole day is over.  A day just like any other, a wave of frustration hits me. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hell, my whole life up until now has meant nothing, and it doesn&#39;t look like it&#39;ll change anytime soon.  I&#39;ve accomplished nothing and benefited no one.  The world&lt;br /&gt;hasn&#39;t changed at all as a result of my existence.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/3799227049829551153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/3799227049829551153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3799227049829551153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/3799227049829551153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/nothing-has-changed-but-everything.html' title='Nothing has changed but everything!'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7302163406909682199.post-8615847383807594892</id><published>2008-05-17T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T05:59:15.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In search of the key to the past</title><content type='html'>My life since then is empty. I don&#39;t know what it is that&#39;s missing - a dream? a memory? - actually, it&#39;s like the memory of a dream. I know I&#39;ve forgotten something, and the vaguest hints of it that I get sometimes are enough to stir my soul.  &lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;    What I&#39;ve lost was important to me, precious to the point that living without it&lt;br /&gt;seems pointless.  It&#39;s totally removed from my life, yet the brief almost-tastes of it I get are more real than reality.  At night, in my dreams… whatever it is&lt;br /&gt;keeps calling to me, with its little tantalizing hints.  But I&#39;ve never quite been able to reach it, or even figure out what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      Maybe it makes me a bad person, or maybe it&#39;s the logical extension of my desire, but I know with sudden clarity that I would give anything in my power to find out what I&#39;ve lost.  I&#39;d give my life if, before I died, I could get back what&#39;s been&lt;br /&gt;taken from me.&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it&#39;s like I&#39;m in another world without you.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;Subscribe&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/feeds/8615847383807594892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7302163406909682199/8615847383807594892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8615847383807594892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7302163406909682199/posts/default/8615847383807594892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myself-infliction.blogspot.com/2008/05/in-search-of-key-to-past.html' title='In search of the key to the past'/><author><name>Malice</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13055715519705055605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xLrZOTbTEDo/SSJ_vA6cFXI/AAAAAAAAACM/n8axuuP7nxw/S220/the+art+of+Photography.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>