<?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: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-8369277070845702831</id><updated>2011-10-23T16:11:07.438+08:00</updated><title type='text'>unrequited dreamer</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>69</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-732532462684148423</id><published>2011-05-20T19:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T19:27:40.075+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It  usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the  person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love  about other people, even if some of these love-able qualities are  self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your  understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and  they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you  really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They  win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control  how you feel about everyone else&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-732532462684148423?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/732532462684148423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2011/05/there-is-always-one-person-you-love-who.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/732532462684148423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/732532462684148423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2011/05/there-is-always-one-person-you-love-who.html' title=''/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2733033507008359480</id><published>2011-01-01T11:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T11:14:23.600+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Move</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.tumblr.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.tumblr.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2733033507008359480?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2733033507008359480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2011/01/move.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2733033507008359480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2733033507008359480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2011/01/move.html' title='The Move'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-1044236957050867013</id><published>2010-12-31T15:04:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T15:04:44.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little things</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Ten Things I Wish I Could Say to Ten Different People.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. You’re the closest person to me while I was at Singapore. I think  your girlfriend is one lucky chick to have someone as caring &amp;amp;  patient as you. Stay safe in Taiwan. I promise I won’t be such a 傻瓜  anymore.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Still my best friend after 12 years. We’re still going strong. What more can I say that I haven’t said yet?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. We know almost everything there is to know about each other. I am  completely myself when I’m with you. I hope he takes good care of you,  &amp;amp; you finally find what you’ve always wanted in him. Many loves.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. You’re one of the sweetest guys I know. My favourite memory with  you this year was when I got into your car &amp;amp; started crying, &amp;amp;  later on we sat at the park in USJ11 &amp;amp; watched aunties dance to  “Sorry Sorry”. Bros before hoes. *chest bumps*&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. You’re the most sincere person I know. I’m sorry I hurt you in the  past, but I’m glad you’ve finally found the right girl. Thank you for  being so understanding. I’ll always remember you saying, “He’ll come  back to you one day, I’m sure of it. Any guy would be crazy if he  didn’t”. &amp;amp; thanks for always being there to help me move forward.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;6. I remember you used to be a stern man of few words. I guess it  pains everyone to watch your health falter in this manner. Spending  those few weeks with you made me realize that life is really  impermanent. Everyone is praying for a miracle for you.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;7. Funniest guy ever. Always makes me laugh even if I’m feeling like shyt. You have no idea what you’ve done for me. Thanks.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;8. I trust too easily, too readily. &amp;amp; I’m thinking, I might have  trusted the wrong person. I listened to him, despite your warnings.  &amp;amp; I’ve probably breached your trust. I hope we’ll patch things up  soon.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;9. I’m sorry you never got the chance to know the person he used to  be before I broke him. You would have liked him better before he turned  this way. I’m sorry he did that to you. I’m sorry you’re still &amp;amp;  probably will always be in the dark. I guess it’s better this way.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;10. Things always get complicated, even after more than two years.  You’ve given me the most amazing memories a girl can ask for. Yet at the  same time, you’ve made your way up the ladder of the worst cheating  bastards I’ve come across. You told me that the guy who gets me will be  the luckiest guy in the world. I’m sorry you’re not that guy, you always  realize things when it’s too late. I told myself that I had to cut you  off. I’ve deleted you from my facebook, my messenger, my phone, &amp;amp; my  life.  I will forget you. In fact, I don’t remember you.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nine things about myself.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. Music is orgasmic&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. I talk to my cat&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. I get excited around cuddly animals&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. I’m a thinker. Something is always on my mind&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. If I could disregard everything, I’d like to be a writer&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;6. I keep a lot of things to myself&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;7. Lying on my bed with a good book in hand is #2 best orgasmic feeling&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;8. I’m pretty awesome at masking my sadness&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;9. I care too much about things that may or may not matter&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eight ways to win my heart.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. Sing like John Mayer&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Be lame with me&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. Do random things with me&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. Write me songs &amp;amp; poems&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. Be an anti-kpop&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;6. Good taste in music&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;7. Romantic&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;8. Hold my hand &amp;amp; never let go&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven things that cross my mind a lot.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. The past&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Music&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. The future&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. I’m always tired&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. I need to pee&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;6. I wished i owned a Borders bookstore&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;7. Philosophical nonsense&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Six things I do before I fall asleep&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. Read a book&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Listen to music&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. Brush my teeth&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. Think myself to sleep&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. Text someone&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;6. Play games on my phone&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five people who mean a lot.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;(in no order whatsoever. &amp;amp; wow. just five?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. Parents&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Yi Jing&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. Eugene&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. Jun Hao&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. Yik Ru&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;*bonus number six. The cina kakis&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four things you’re wearing right now.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. Cookie monster tee&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Glasses&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. Undies&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. Shorts&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Three songs that you listen to often.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. Heartbreak Warfare -John Mayer&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Make You Feel My Love -Adele&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. Falling Slowly from the movie “Once”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two things you want to do before you die.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. Travel around the world&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Find true love&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One confession.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I am just waiting for someone to save me. Save me from this vicious  cycle of us  finding each other time after time. I used to think that  maybe it’s a sign to stop separating. Now I’m thinking, this is just a  cruel joke. I have to save myself from you.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-1044236957050867013?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/1044236957050867013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/little-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1044236957050867013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1044236957050867013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/little-things.html' title='Little things'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-9215408154124971470</id><published>2010-12-22T20:30:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T20:41:21.880+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely Hearts</title><content type='html'>Which is worse? Knowing you are loved but you can't be together or thinking you aren't loved &amp;amp; shouldn't be together?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-9215408154124971470?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/9215408154124971470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/lonely-hearts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/9215408154124971470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/9215408154124971470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/lonely-hearts.html' title='Lonely Hearts'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2967214539667213818</id><published>2010-12-19T21:48:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T21:48:42.403+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cocoon</title><content type='html'>Now we're left with confused hearts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2967214539667213818?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2967214539667213818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/cocoon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2967214539667213818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2967214539667213818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/cocoon.html' title='Cocoon'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3483130261827036445</id><published>2010-12-17T22:26:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T22:53:11.934+08:00</updated><title type='text'>You've Got A Friend In Me</title><content type='html'>I know I've done a similiar post before somewhere mid year of 2009. Heres to friends  that mean the world to me in 2010, a feeling that will never  change.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Michelle, Jia Min, Jit Heang, Bobo, Leonie, Chong Huan &lt;/span&gt;i love u  guys to  bits too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1MyIT1-I/AAAAAAAAAPo/ZzWyvxZXKAA/s1600/19856_221952736375_691481375_3307126_6299103_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1MyIT1-I/AAAAAAAAAPo/ZzWyvxZXKAA/s400/19856_221952736375_691481375_3307126_6299103_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551659828139775970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jin Onn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;that faithful day in Feb 2009 when a girl broken beyond repair  sits beside the guy with the biggest heart blossomed into this helluva  friendship. if i am really, as you said, the girl with the biggest heart;  you'd be the boy with the biggest heart. you are always there for me. what  more can i say? the bro code: bros before hoes. =) *chest bumps*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1NNfJFRI/AAAAAAAAAPw/ayH9FmVotFA/s1600/gene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 281px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1NNfJFRI/AAAAAAAAAPw/ayH9FmVotFA/s400/gene.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551659835483297042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eugene Tan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;how long has it been? 11 years. always supportive, no  matter what decision i make. u're still my future bridesmaid. =) my best friend,  you are like a fairytale. you've been there since once upon a time, &amp;amp; will be there till forever after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1NTKPfYI/AAAAAAAAAP4/s2n6wAILa4Y/s1600/yc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1NTKPfYI/AAAAAAAAAP4/s2n6wAILa4Y/s400/yc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551659837006249346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yong Cheng&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;primary school buds. cheers me up without even knowing it. makes me laugh without fail. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1Nt6HobI/AAAAAAAAAQA/8mOtl3s1lrc/s1600/xf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1Nt6HobI/AAAAAAAAAQA/8mOtl3s1lrc/s400/xf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551659844186382770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Xiau Fong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my beetch with the booty. another primary school bud. my voice of reason. always there, always true.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1ON3MTGI/AAAAAAAAAQI/4k9IoyyOTTQ/s1600/lc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1ON3MTGI/AAAAAAAAAQI/4k9IoyyOTTQ/s400/lc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551659852764040290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Li Chin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;my ditzy babe. love how screwed up both of us can be sometimes. we are fighters, we will always get through. *fist bumps*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1f-nU3kI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/dyVX8XkoyHY/s1600/edward.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1f-nU3kI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/dyVX8XkoyHY/s400/edward.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551660157908606530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Edward&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;polar bear. trustworthy &amp;amp; loyal. always supportive, always there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1gGn-qbI/AAAAAAAAAQg/Z5sXSHqlm2k/s1600/xe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1gGn-qbI/AAAAAAAAAQg/Z5sXSHqlm2k/s400/xe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551660160058829234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Xue Er&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;never thought we'd open up to each other, but it took a while.  found out we had a lot in common. what i miss about ngee ann poly is you. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;amp; to someone else that means a lot to me. I threw us  away 2 years ago, shattered you. Came back 3 months later, but the  person you were had died away. I loved, &amp;amp; still do, love the person  you were. Took you a while to realize I was the only one who felt right. Came back to me time after time, even though I pushed the new you away. The new you also had a new girlfriend in toll, you see. &amp;amp; when my  defense was low, you just knocked me off my ground. So now, here we are,  still, as u said, without closure.&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;i&gt;You're waiting for a train - a  train that will take you far away. You  know where you hope the train  will take you, but you can't know for  sure. But it doesn't matter,  because we'll be together". &lt;/i&gt;You see, we got off the train, before we  got to the final destination, &amp;amp; we never found out whether it would  take us to where we'd hope to be. Is this the last train? 'Cause I'm not too sure whether I'm getting on it, again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3483130261827036445?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3483130261827036445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/youve-got-friend-in-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3483130261827036445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3483130261827036445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/youve-got-friend-in-me.html' title='You&apos;ve Got A Friend In Me'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TQt1MyIT1-I/AAAAAAAAAPo/ZzWyvxZXKAA/s72-c/19856_221952736375_691481375_3307126_6299103_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3565456948950742644</id><published>2010-12-16T23:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T23:26:08.552+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our July In The Rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;Remember me? I'm the girl who threw us away. I'm the girl who was  afraid of what would happen next &amp;amp; ran. In the back of my mind I  wish you would have followed me,  but you didn't. So hi, nice to see you  again. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3565456948950742644?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3565456948950742644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/our-july-in-rain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3565456948950742644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3565456948950742644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/our-july-in-rain.html' title='Our July In The Rain'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-5256537469904142155</id><published>2010-12-12T20:26:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T20:26:48.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Gonna Find Another You</title><content type='html'>Remind myself everyday, that I don't give a damn about you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-5256537469904142155?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/5256537469904142155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/im-gonna-find-another-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5256537469904142155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5256537469904142155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/im-gonna-find-another-you.html' title='I&apos;m Gonna Find Another You'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2323643607455288760</id><published>2010-12-11T19:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T19:53:47.696+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Better days</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.  I know other people have it a lot worse.  I do know that, but it’s crashing in anyway."&lt;br /&gt;-The Perks Of Being A Wallflower&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2323643607455288760?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2323643607455288760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/better-days_11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2323643607455288760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2323643607455288760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/better-days_11.html' title='Better days'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4797697728046811618</id><published>2010-12-09T21:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T22:01:45.523+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slow dancing in a burning room</title><content type='html'>I used to think that, I was the only special one out of the rest. But now i start to wonder, maybe it's just you. You make every one of us feel like we're different from the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you hate it when I doubt you; hate it when i doubt us. But have you ever given me a something substantial to hold on to?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4797697728046811618?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4797697728046811618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/slow-dancing-in-burning-room.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4797697728046811618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4797697728046811618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/slow-dancing-in-burning-room.html' title='Slow dancing in a burning room'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2085245704207374153</id><published>2010-12-08T17:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T17:56:39.126+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bring me back to the night i felt alive</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;That night  we sat at the park eating ice-cream, talking  about our life, talking about our times together. Perhaps we aren't the  same kids  that we were two years ago, but some things never change. Some things  last,  even though I didn't exactly know what was going to happen to us.  Or  where we were going. I just knew that I couldn't let you out of my   life. Neither of us wanted to go home, but i guess we made that mistake already. Letting go of each other much too early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2085245704207374153?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2085245704207374153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/bring-me-back-to-night-i-felt-alive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2085245704207374153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2085245704207374153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/bring-me-back-to-night-i-felt-alive.html' title='Bring me back to the night i felt alive'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6318870261236886254</id><published>2010-12-08T11:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T11:35:29.112+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leave the lights on</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I told you  I'd leave a light on, in case you ever wanted to come back home. You  smiled and said you appreciated the gesture. I took your every word to  heart, cause I can't stand us being apart. &amp;amp; just to show how much I  really miss you, every light in the house is on. The backyard's bright  as the crack of dawn, the front walk looks like runway lights. It's  kinda like noon in the dead of night. Every light in the house is on.  Just in case you ever do get tired of being gone, every light in the  house is on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6318870261236886254?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6318870261236886254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/leave-lights-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6318870261236886254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6318870261236886254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/leave-lights-on.html' title='Leave the lights on'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-1103971077910676231</id><published>2010-12-03T20:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T20:25:48.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch me burn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;I've run from these feelings for so long. Telling myself i can let go of you, pretending i am better off alone. But i know its just a lie. So afraid to take a chance again, so opposed to getting let down ; &lt;br /&gt;so where do i stand &amp;amp; how do we feel now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-1103971077910676231?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/1103971077910676231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/watch-me-burn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1103971077910676231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1103971077910676231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/watch-me-burn.html' title='Watch me burn'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6564754566892949901</id><published>2010-12-02T22:12:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T22:17:01.120+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith, trust, &amp; pixie dust</title><content type='html'>You're walking along a street. You turn a corner expecting to see hope. But all you see is grief. Grief, it seems, is an old friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6564754566892949901?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6564754566892949901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/trust-pixie-dust.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6564754566892949901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6564754566892949901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/12/trust-pixie-dust.html' title='Faith, trust, &amp; pixie dust'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-7540263422705107873</id><published>2010-11-30T23:03:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T23:27:26.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'>War Cry</title><content type='html'>What is this I feel for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it you feel for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we have here is reciprocal loneliness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both know the truth, why u left what you had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For I won't admit that, I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It amazes me, how much I don't need you, don't want you back; but how much of you have been &amp;amp; will always be a part of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't live with or without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with you anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-7540263422705107873?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/7540263422705107873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/war-cry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7540263422705107873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7540263422705107873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/war-cry.html' title='War Cry'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-7214711411924867918</id><published>2010-11-27T14:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T14:37:04.358+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fell in love with a fool</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When love feels like magic, it's called destiny. When destiny has a sense of humor, it's called serendipity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-Serendipity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to believe in fate. I used to believe that it was destiny that brought us back together, time &amp;amp; time again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it is time to wake up &amp;amp; face reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always ask for signs, but when they are given to us, we pass them off as coincidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe because that is what they are. They are just coincidences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a fine line, between being a romantic, &amp;amp; being a fool. I am but both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swore I'd never let you back in. But the sadness in your eyes, that was a clever trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I am a fool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-7214711411924867918?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/7214711411924867918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/fell-in-love-with-fool.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7214711411924867918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7214711411924867918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/fell-in-love-with-fool.html' title='Fell in love with a fool'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3860531994058924730</id><published>2010-11-26T16:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T21:32:43.111+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Angel</title><content type='html'>Today, I saw a little boy with brain cancer. The little boy was smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I saw the most beautiful smile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3860531994058924730?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3860531994058924730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/little-angel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3860531994058924730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3860531994058924730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/little-angel.html' title='Little Angel'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-7330580704510208144</id><published>2010-11-25T23:53:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T00:00:31.302+08:00</updated><title type='text'>If tomorrow never comes</title><content type='html'>I am afraid of tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish tomorrow will never come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes before i go to sleep at night, i keep thinking about the happier times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, it feels so real when I think about the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I swear it feels like when i wake up in the morning everything will be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, which is almost every time, it doesn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, it feels like tomorrow will never come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is me. I always rather live in denial, live in ignorance, live in oblivion. Yet, in the end, I will choose to go for what I should do, instead of what i want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depressing much? Yes, I am. Sorry, I just hate hospitals. Hospitals always bring me down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-7330580704510208144?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/7330580704510208144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/if-tomorrow-never-comes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7330580704510208144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7330580704510208144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/if-tomorrow-never-comes.html' title='If tomorrow never comes'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2771845875105508541</id><published>2010-11-24T00:10:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T00:11:46.050+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting For The End</title><content type='html'>what if i can't take it anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what if i decided to give up on everything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just want to curl up in a corner &amp;amp; just forget the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2771845875105508541?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2771845875105508541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/waiting-for-end_24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2771845875105508541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2771845875105508541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/waiting-for-end_24.html' title='Waiting For The End'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-1909621901984995617</id><published>2010-11-23T12:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T12:30:04.650+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hope For The Hopeless</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, it takes tragedy to befall those around you to make you realize that you are much better off than others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel awful, somtimes. I want the world to stop spinning so I can get off. I feel horrible for feeling down when people around me are suffering &amp;amp; all I can do is stand there helplessly by the sidelines &amp;amp; watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm worrying about love, about studies, I feel a twinge of guilt. What are these problems, compared to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst feeling is not watching a loved one hurt. It's knowing you can't do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i was sitting backwards on the bus in Singapore one day, i realized. Life's like that.&lt;br /&gt;Life is like sitting backwards on the bus. You don't know what's coming ahead &amp;amp; all you can do is watch everything pass you by.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-1909621901984995617?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/1909621901984995617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/hope-for-hopeless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1909621901984995617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1909621901984995617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/hope-for-hopeless.html' title='Hope For The Hopeless'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-7464850915433599634</id><published>2010-11-23T11:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T11:33:34.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Lover -A Fine Frenzy</title><content type='html'>Your fingertips across my skin&lt;br /&gt;The palm trees swaying in the wind&lt;br /&gt;Images&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sang me Spanish lullabies&lt;br /&gt;The sweetest sadness in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Clever trick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never want to see you unhappy&lt;br /&gt;I thought you'd want the same for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, my almost lover&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, my hopeless dream&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying not to think about you&lt;br /&gt;Can't you just let me be?&lt;br /&gt;So long, my luckless romance&lt;br /&gt;My back is turned on you&lt;br /&gt;I should've known you'd bring me heartache&lt;br /&gt;Almost lovers always do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked along a crowded street&lt;br /&gt;You took my hand and danced with me&lt;br /&gt;Images&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you left you kissed my lips&lt;br /&gt;You told me you'd never ever forget these images, no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never want to see you unhappy&lt;br /&gt;I thought you'd want the same for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, my almost lover&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, my hopeless dream&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying not to think about you&lt;br /&gt;Can't you just let me be?&lt;br /&gt;So long, my luckless romance&lt;br /&gt;My back is turned on you&lt;br /&gt;I should've known you'd bring me heartache&lt;br /&gt;Almost lovers always do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot go to the ocean&lt;br /&gt;I cannot drive the streets at night&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wake up in the morning&lt;br /&gt;Without you on my mind&lt;br /&gt;So you're gone and I'm haunted&lt;br /&gt;And I bet you are just fine&lt;br /&gt;Did I make it that easy&lt;br /&gt;To walk right in and out of my life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, my almost lover&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, my hopeless dream&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying not to think about you&lt;br /&gt;Can't you just let me be?&lt;br /&gt;So long, my luckless romance&lt;br /&gt;My back is turned on you&lt;br /&gt;I should've known you'd bring me heartache&lt;br /&gt;Almost lovers always do&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-7464850915433599634?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/7464850915433599634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/almost-lover-fine-frenzy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7464850915433599634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7464850915433599634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/almost-lover-fine-frenzy.html' title='Almost Lover -A Fine Frenzy'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6299209846069605875</id><published>2010-11-21T16:38:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T13:46:58.087+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking To The Moon</title><content type='html'>looking back, i don't know whether i should regret ignoring them when they told me, "run as fast as you can".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6299209846069605875?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6299209846069605875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/talking-to-moon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6299209846069605875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6299209846069605875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/talking-to-moon.html' title='Talking To The Moon'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-5144771442395119433</id><published>2010-11-03T19:24:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T22:44:07.899+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fate fell short this time</title><content type='html'>There is something to be said about two people who find each other time and time again. No matter what situations they end up in or how far apart they become - they come back to each other. Those are the people who have a little thing called fate on their side. Those are the people I envy. It's almost like the world is saying "stop separating, you are meant to be together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-5144771442395119433?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/5144771442395119433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/fate-fell-short-this-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5144771442395119433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5144771442395119433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/fate-fell-short-this-time.html' title='Fate fell short this time'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4547555097678302844</id><published>2010-11-03T18:57:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T19:01:58.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Train to nowhere</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You're waiting for a train, a train that will take you far away. You know  where you hope this train will take you, but you can't be sure. but it doesnt  matter, coz we'll be together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Inception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Isn't life like that? You never know for sure where life will take you, you just trust it, have faith in it, &amp;amp; u take a leap, for better or for worse.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4547555097678302844?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4547555097678302844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/train-to-nowhere.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4547555097678302844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4547555097678302844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/train-to-nowhere.html' title='Train to nowhere'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3099661541746062913</id><published>2010-11-03T11:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T11:20:13.142+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;I spent my life learning to feel less.&lt;br /&gt;Every day I felt less.&lt;br /&gt;Is that growing old?&lt;br /&gt;Or is it something worse?&lt;br /&gt;You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3099661541746062913?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3099661541746062913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/id-rather-hurt-than-feel-nothing-at-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3099661541746062913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3099661541746062913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/id-rather-hurt-than-feel-nothing-at-all.html' title='I&apos;d rather hurt than feel nothing at all'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4455028552749152477</id><published>2010-11-02T21:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T21:10:27.022+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A thousand words</title><content type='html'>sometimes, i feel so much that i want to pen them all out into words. but a million words will never capture the essence of something as simple as an emotion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4455028552749152477?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4455028552749152477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/thousand-words.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4455028552749152477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4455028552749152477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/thousand-words.html' title='A thousand words'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-8502555949723737227</id><published>2010-11-02T20:56:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T20:56:51.601+08:00</updated><title type='text'>he is love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="quote"&gt;I  love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or had loved  you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one  else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone  else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-8502555949723737227?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/8502555949723737227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/he-is-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8502555949723737227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8502555949723737227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/he-is-love.html' title='he is love'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3119927921812502744</id><published>2010-11-01T08:40:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T08:41:13.789+08:00</updated><title type='text'>311008</title><content type='html'>i wouldn't change a thing. how else would i know how much u mean to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;u kiss my nose, the feeling shows. -311010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3119927921812502744?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3119927921812502744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/311008.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3119927921812502744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3119927921812502744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/11/311008.html' title='311008'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4157992789033024942</id><published>2010-10-28T21:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T21:50:53.277+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Half of my heart</title><content type='html'>I don't believe in true love; yet I hope for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in forever; yet I believe in a million years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that life is ever easy; yet I know it will always work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that I will ever forget u; yet I know that I will stop loving u if i had to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that u will ever forget me; yet I don't know whether u still do love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe u still look at me &amp;amp; hold me that way; yet u do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in uncertainty; yet I contradict myself by leaving words unspoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that two years is a very short time; yet it never really feels like we've been apart that long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in many things; yet I believe in us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want everything; yet i want nothing at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4157992789033024942?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4157992789033024942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/half-of-my-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4157992789033024942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4157992789033024942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/half-of-my-heart.html' title='Half of my heart'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4445809709784422371</id><published>2010-10-23T20:22:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T11:58:15.287+08:00</updated><title type='text'>你不知道的事</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;你不懂得读, 所以我继续写...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4445809709784422371?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4445809709784422371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post_23.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4445809709784422371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4445809709784422371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post_23.html' title='你不知道的事'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4732731042822858549</id><published>2010-10-22T13:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T13:55:42.740+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hanging on a thread</title><content type='html'>u say that i always keep u hanging. but why does it feel lyk the other way round most of the time?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4732731042822858549?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4732731042822858549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/hanging-on-thread.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4732731042822858549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4732731042822858549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/hanging-on-thread.html' title='Hanging on a thread'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2060374519956508241</id><published>2010-10-22T12:34:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T12:40:39.222+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love game</title><content type='html'>Let's play a game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We play around, we have fun, we eat ice-cream at the park, we share secrets, we tell stories, we talk about our past, we cry on each other's shoulders, we hold hands, we think about forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we don't fall in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because the first one who does, loses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2060374519956508241?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2060374519956508241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/love-game.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2060374519956508241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2060374519956508241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/love-game.html' title='Love game'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-7024018597037848805</id><published>2010-10-20T23:56:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T23:58:18.364+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartbreak warfare</title><content type='html'>i pretend that i'm in disbelief, but the truth is i only act that way to hide what i'm feeling inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-7024018597037848805?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/7024018597037848805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/heartbreak-warfare.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7024018597037848805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7024018597037848805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/heartbreak-warfare.html' title='Heartbreak warfare'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2328233579164662424</id><published>2010-10-20T09:32:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T09:41:54.270+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something always brings me back to u</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="T_18"&gt;你一直说的那个公园已经拆啦&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_23"&gt;还记得荡着秋千日子就飞起来&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_27"&gt;漫漫的下午阳光都在脸上撒野&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_31"&gt;你那傻气 我真是想念&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_36"&gt;那时候小小的你还没学会叹气&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_40"&gt;谁又会想到他们现在喊我女王&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_45"&gt;你哈哈笑的样子倒是一点没变&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_49"&gt;时间走了 谁还在等呢&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_54"&gt;这杯咖啡忘了加糖 真不是我那么伤感&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_62"&gt;世界太复杂 你说单纯很难 我当然都明白&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_73"&gt;可是啊只有你曾陪我在最初的地方&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_77"&gt;只有你才能了解我要的梦从来不大&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_81"&gt;我们没有在一起至少还像情侣一样&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_85"&gt;我痛的疯的伤的在你面前哭得最惨&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_90"&gt;我知道你也不能带我回到那个地方&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_94"&gt;你说你现在很好而且喜欢回忆很长&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_99"&gt;我们没有在一起至少还像家人一样&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_103"&gt;总是远远关心 远远 分享&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_126"&gt;那条路走啊走啊走啊总要回家&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_129"&gt;两隻手握着晃啊晃啊捨不得放&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_133"&gt;你不知道吧后来后来我都在想&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_138"&gt;跟你走吧 管它去哪呀&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_243"&gt;我们没有在一起至少还像朋友一样&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="T_247"&gt;你远远的关心 其实 更长&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2328233579164662424?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2328233579164662424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/something-always-brings-me-back-to-u.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2328233579164662424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2328233579164662424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/something-always-brings-me-back-to-u.html' title='Something always brings me back to u'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6668049600846700522</id><published>2010-10-01T17:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T17:11:02.696+08:00</updated><title type='text'>小小红帽子</title><content type='html'>小红帽站在开着门的糖果屋外犹豫了好一阵子。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;小红帽始终没踏入糖果屋，就因为介意着糖果屋里过期了的棒棒糖。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;她脱下了小小红帽子。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;转身离去之前，把折好的红帽与心情留在糖果屋外......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6668049600846700522?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6668049600846700522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6668049600846700522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6668049600846700522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post.html' title='小小红帽子'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4192396020997411562</id><published>2010-09-30T20:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T20:53:43.891+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let Me Go</title><content type='html'>If you ever want something badly, let it go. If it comes back to you,  then it's yours forever. If it doesn't, then it was never yours to begin  with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4192396020997411562?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4192396020997411562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/let-me-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4192396020997411562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4192396020997411562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/let-me-go.html' title='Let Me Go'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-5491720306731799479</id><published>2010-09-30T19:55:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T20:48:28.625+08:00</updated><title type='text'>伤心恋歌</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="UIComposer_InputArea_Base UIComposer_InputArea"&gt;&lt;div class="UIComposer_InputShadow"&gt;&lt;div style="width: 510px;" class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca4855b53653619cae18_input"&gt;委屈,  太委屈......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-5491720306731799479?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/5491720306731799479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post_30.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5491720306731799479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5491720306731799479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post_30.html' title='伤心恋歌'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6855734343434619028</id><published>2010-09-28T18:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T18:23:12.091+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Notebook</title><content type='html'>"She had come back into his life like a sudden flame; blazing and  streaming into his heart. Noah stayed up all night contemplating the  certain agony he knew would be his if he were to lose her twice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Notebook&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6855734343434619028?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6855734343434619028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/notebook.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6855734343434619028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6855734343434619028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/notebook.html' title='The Notebook'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6364598815356410618</id><published>2010-09-27T12:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T12:07:47.610+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Run To You</title><content type='html'>Running away only makes things worse in the end, but it feels so good at the moment, doesn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6364598815356410618?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6364598815356410618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-run-to-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6364598815356410618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6364598815356410618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-run-to-you.html' title='I Run To You'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-8602245028196762018</id><published>2010-09-26T12:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T12:18:42.643+08:00</updated><title type='text'>thinking of you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Tell  me, what did thinking ever do for me? To what great place did thinking  ever bring me? I think &amp;amp; think &amp;amp; think, I've thought myself out of  happiness one million times, but never once into it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-8602245028196762018?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/8602245028196762018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/thinking-of-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8602245028196762018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8602245028196762018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/thinking-of-you.html' title='thinking of you'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-8554422093912071593</id><published>2010-09-25T23:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T23:34:08.458+08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Make It Real For Me</title><content type='html'>That initial anger had turned into sadness, &amp;amp; now it has become something else, almost a dullness of sorts. Even though everything was constantly in motion, it seemed as if nothing special ever happened anymore. Each day seemed exactly like the last, &amp;amp; i have trouble differentiating them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-8554422093912071593?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/8554422093912071593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-make-it-real-for-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8554422093912071593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8554422093912071593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-make-it-real-for-me.html' title='You Make It Real For Me'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2723455318032590247</id><published>2010-09-25T11:01:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T11:05:12.051+08:00</updated><title type='text'>小红帽的糖果屋</title><content type='html'>有一天，小红帽在森林里找到了一间糖果屋。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;她在那里住下来。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;有天她却离开了心爱的糖果屋，想到遥远遥远找看有没有更好的糖果屋。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;寻找了许久，她还是找不到另一间糖果屋。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;最后她回到了以前原本的糖果屋，却发现里头有她最心爱的糖果了。糖果屋内的棒棒糖却已经过期。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2723455318032590247?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2723455318032590247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post_25.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2723455318032590247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2723455318032590247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post_25.html' title='小红帽的糖果屋'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4552410760652157563</id><published>2010-09-24T01:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T01:21:28.825+08:00</updated><title type='text'>two years later u're still on my mind</title><content type='html'>i don't hate u.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4552410760652157563?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4552410760652157563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/two-years-later-ure-still-on-my-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4552410760652157563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4552410760652157563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/two-years-later-ure-still-on-my-mind.html' title='two years later u&apos;re still on my mind'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6020672437171537315</id><published>2010-09-23T00:41:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T02:47:31.481+08:00</updated><title type='text'>u change ur mind like a girl changes clothes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;我&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;突然觉得, 我更像一根针. 伤人. 自伤.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6020672437171537315?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6020672437171537315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/u-change-ur-mind-like-girl-changes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6020672437171537315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6020672437171537315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/u-change-ur-mind-like-girl-changes.html' title='u change ur mind like a girl changes clothes'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-485354512781772155</id><published>2010-09-20T15:03:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T15:03:30.430+08:00</updated><title type='text'>说谎</title><content type='html'>说谎的人要吞一千根针...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-485354512781772155?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/485354512781772155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post_20.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/485354512781772155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/485354512781772155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post_20.html' title='说谎'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3675429310140251407</id><published>2010-09-17T20:30:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T15:05:50.147+08:00</updated><title type='text'>等待</title><content type='html'>不知不觉的等待&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="UIComposer_InputArea_Base UIComposer_InputArea"&gt;&lt;div class="UIComposer_InputShadow"&gt;&lt;div style="width: 510px;" class="Mentions_Input" id="c4c9707a9764d038d51735_input"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;110分钟的等待  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2年的等待  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原本自己很适合等待  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;难道真的是一生的等待?                &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原本自己很爱他&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="inputt13n" style="display: none;"&gt;&lt;input id="t13nimg" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;span id="t13ntext" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="select_document"&gt;Type text or a website address or &lt;a href="http://translate.google.com/?tr=f&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;translate a document.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="file_div" class="file" style="display: none;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="select_text"&gt;&lt;a href="http://translate.google.com/?tr=t&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;Cancel&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input style="display: none;" name="file" id="file" size="40" type="file"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3675429310140251407?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3675429310140251407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3675429310140251407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3675429310140251407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post.html' title='等待'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3706627337860102338</id><published>2010-09-11T12:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T13:07:20.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'>everybody loves somebody</title><content type='html'>random update due to the lack thereof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a certain someone has been trying to make a reappearance into my life. for whatever reason, i have no idea. usually, i wouldn't know what to make of it &amp;amp; end up confused. but there's so many things i'm in love with, i don't think i'd waste my contentment with life by being confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;feeling so much love i could die. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TIsN6BYQsnI/AAAAAAAAAPY/ZIL7RyKRK7s/s1600/b215470445.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 106px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TIsN6BYQsnI/AAAAAAAAAPY/ZIL7RyKRK7s/s400/b215470445.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515517459099071090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3706627337860102338?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3706627337860102338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/everybody-loves-somebody.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3706627337860102338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3706627337860102338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/09/everybody-loves-somebody.html' title='everybody loves somebody'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/TIsN6BYQsnI/AAAAAAAAAPY/ZIL7RyKRK7s/s72-c/b215470445.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-936542294298972478</id><published>2010-06-25T12:55:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T00:40:29.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>home</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;i like it this way that my blog is so not happening that nobody bothers to check it. sometimes, i just want to vent out without recieving any judgement from others. but why a blog? coz maybe someone might come along, read this, &amp;amp; find a connection between my words &amp;amp; their own feelings. everyone wants to feel lyk they're not alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just got back from challengers camp. not too bad but not that awesome either. i dont know whether it was worth cutting short my trip back home. but i thought abt home, a lot, at camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i came here to study. i lied. i didn't come here to study just bcoz "the education was better". that was just an image, a diversion, for everybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i grew tired of home. everywhere i turned, it reminded me of what i wanted to forget. i came here to run away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;running away is an act of a coward. but onn told me, it takes a lot of courage to leave everything u've known as ur entire life behind to start afresh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but being away from home made me rediscover myself. i realized that i had been too caught up in trying to forget, i never took tym to appreciate what i had around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i miss my family, mumee especially. tuesday morning wen i woke up mum left a note before going for work under my door bcoz she didnt want to wake me up to say that she's sorry she can't send me off at the bus station. yes, mumee being sweet as ever. really love her. i really can't imagine life without her. she's 1 of the most selfless person i've ever known. her children, husband, parents, siblings, the needy, etc. they alwiz come before her ownself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i miss my friends. eugene tan, the childhood best friend, who has been der for me since almost forever. who nows that i hate crying in front of ppl, &amp;amp; that when i do, all i need is a silent reassuring hug, coz he aso knows i dislike being pitied on. &amp;amp; of coz jinonn, who alwiz knows the ryt things to say. if the depression point my life hadn't happened, i probably wouldn't have been so close to him. my dear li chin, who like me, at times lose faith but learn to live with what we have. michelle, the confused lil sweetheart. xiau fong, d steady listening ear &amp;amp; alwiz d logical side. kelly yeo &amp;amp; jia min hus presence just makes me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of coz alot of ppl presume that sg being developed den msia in so many areas wud be a much nicer place to stay at. but i believe that home will alwiz be the place where u grew up. where i come from, though it's a far cry from perfect, but that's a part of the place i grew up with &amp;amp; it'll never change.  it will alwiz be d place wer i can be mostly myself. where me &amp;amp; my frens can do random acts such as climbing to d rooftop of summit hotel, fly a kite, climb a hill, have a picnic. i don't want a city filled with shopping malls, mrts &amp;amp; high rised buildings. i need a place where i feel at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never realized i was so patriotic till i came here to study. lol. i gez u reli don't know what uve got till it's gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i came here to forget. is it working? only tym will tell. but at least now when i listen to Your Guardian Angel &amp;amp; Built To Last, &amp;amp; it doesn't make me heart cringe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it still gets lonely here. during times when i just want to call up someone to tell them abt my day, only to realize d ppl i'd love to share my day wif are all back home. but i'm grateful d person i am &amp;amp; where i am now. there are so many ppl that are worse off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the brightside, i've made friends at camp. &amp;amp; maybe i'd find someone i can be myself with in this city i call my temporary home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this is my temporary home, it's not where i belong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-936542294298972478?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/936542294298972478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/06/home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/936542294298972478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/936542294298972478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/06/home.html' title='home'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3535601670006587382</id><published>2010-04-20T23:46:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T13:10:11.479+08:00</updated><title type='text'>how to save a life</title><content type='html'>today, i ended a life &amp;amp; witnessed the deaths of perhaps 40 others. i punctured the needle into the body, through the heart. i pushed the plunger on the syringe &amp;amp; the chemical seeped into the bloodstream. i watched. rapid breaths. a few seconds later, it began to slow down until... it stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today, i ended a life of a rat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;many ppl wud tink, "it's just a rat." but who am i to decide that it's life shall end today. i am nobody, but a human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today, approx 94 rats &amp;amp; mice died because of the workshop Veterinary Bioscience students attended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;many ppl wud tink, "they're just rodents". but who are we to decide that they're loves shall end today. we are nobodies, but humans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;euthanasia is part &amp;amp; parcel of becoming &amp;amp; being a vet. i have to do it, but it doesn't mean i have to lyk it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;euthanasia is considered humane. after undergoing much probing, being experimented on, being sampled, animals are then put to sleep &amp;amp; dissected for further examination. humane, indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next tym i pop a panadol down my throat whenever i'm having a headache, i'll always think about the number of mice or rats that died, just so i'd be able to consume an aspirin which results in no adverse side effects &amp;amp; rapid relief from discomfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we rule the world we live in, deemed superior than god's other creations. we are not god, but we control life &amp;amp; death. we are humans.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3535601670006587382?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3535601670006587382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/04/90-lives.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3535601670006587382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3535601670006587382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/04/90-lives.html' title='how to save a life'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-1343330789967828908</id><published>2010-03-08T22:31:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T20:28:21.288+08:00</updated><title type='text'>如果我只是回忆 if i was just a memory</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;saw this post on facebook. decided to translate it to english so that more people could appreciate it. some of the beauty of the chinese words couldn't be readily translated into english, but i tried my best to capture the essence &amp;amp; meaning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if we were two past lovers &amp;amp; remained as friends, it means that i was never really in love with you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;if we were two past lovers &lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp; continued doing the things we did while we were together even after our separation, it means that i want you to remember me. &lt;span&gt;if we were two past lovers&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; i never want to see you anymore while expressing my hatred towards u, it means that i can't bear to leave you. &lt;span&gt;if we were two past lovers&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; we disappeared from each others lives, it means that i really love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;如果两个人分手之后做了朋友,那说明我从来没爱过你，如&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;果 两个人分手以后依旧可以做分手之前做的事,那说明我想&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;让 你记住我，如果两个人分手之后我不再见你并大声说我恨&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;你, 那说明我不舍得离开你，如果两个人分手之后在彼此的&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;世界消失 了,那说明我真的爱你。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;during a break up, silence is the best answer, &amp;amp; the most complete answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;分手时,沉默是最好的问题,最圆满的答案.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love is sweet, breaking up is inevitable. who hasn't cried at times, hurt at times, before they find their final love? breaking up is something that has to be experienced, but some questions need not be asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; 恋爱是甜蜜的,分手是难免的.谁不是哭过几次,痛过几次&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,才 找到最后的爱.分手是必经的,但有些问题不必问.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. don't ask: why do u want to break up with me?&lt;br /&gt;because no matter what the answer is, you won't be able to accept it.&lt;br /&gt;1.不要问:为什么要分手.&lt;br /&gt;无论答案是什么,都是你难以接受的原因.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. don't ask: have you ever loved me?&lt;br /&gt;whether it was love or not, at this very moment it isn't love.&lt;br /&gt;2.不要问:你有没有爱过我.&lt;br /&gt;爱过如何,未爱过又如何,总之这一刻就是不爱.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. don't ask: what did i do wrong?&lt;br /&gt;love isn't about right or wrong. it's about how you feel. mutual love is about emotions, not logic. when the feeling of love no longer exists, what can being right or wrong change or preserve?&lt;br /&gt;3.不要问:我做错了些什么.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; 爱不是讲对错,而是讲感觉.相爱是谈情,不是讲理.当爱&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;的感 觉已经不存在,对或错又可以挽回些什么?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. don't ask: what's wrong with me? what's so good about him/her? why is he/she better than me?&lt;br /&gt;why force the other person, &amp;amp; humiliate yourself once more &amp;amp; break your confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; 4.不要问:我有什么不好.她有什么好.我有什么比不上&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;她.&lt;br /&gt;何必逼对方,再一次侮辱你,打击你的自信心.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. don't ask: don't you remember all the happy memories we had together?&lt;br /&gt;he/she wants to leave you, because he/she wants the happiness in front of him/her, or the happiness the future holds.&lt;br /&gt;5.不要问:难道你不记得我们以前快乐的日子了么.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; 她/他要离开你,就是因为她/他要现在的快乐,和将来的&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;快 乐.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. don't ask: let's start over, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;this way of begging or pleading, will only make him/her pity you, look down on you.&lt;br /&gt;6.不要问:不如我们重新来过.&lt;br /&gt;这个哀求,只会让对**得你更可怜,更卑微.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. don't ask: can we still be friends?&lt;br /&gt;dragging things the way they are will only make him/her annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;7.不要问:我们以后还可不可以做朋友.&lt;br /&gt;这样拖泥带水,对方只会感到厌烦.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love is the most beautiful memory. after having loved &amp;amp; being loved back, learn how to be content. why make things hard for him/her, &amp;amp; change the lovely essence of the past. use the warmth he/she used to shower on you as sweet memories on lonely days to bring warmth to yourself. memories are beautiful. appreciate the memories left behind &amp;amp; hold on to the happiness in front of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; 爱是最美好的记忆.爱过了,曾经拥有过了,就要学会知足&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;, 何必为难对方,让曾经的美好变了味道.让她/他曾经给&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;过 的温柔成为孤独时温暖自己的美妙的回忆.回忆是美丽的&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;…珍藏 走过的轨迹…握紧现有幸福…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-1343330789967828908?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/1343330789967828908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/03/if-i-was-just-memory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1343330789967828908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1343330789967828908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/03/if-i-was-just-memory.html' title='如果我只是回忆 if i was just a memory'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6973337927418895251</id><published>2010-02-05T00:12:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T21:18:15.986+08:00</updated><title type='text'>my heart goes out to u</title><content type='html'>i miss my cousins. i miss OUR hutan bandar. i miss how everything was so simple. i miss how worries seemed so far. i miss how the future only existed as "tomorrow". i miss how CNY used to be so joyful. i miss how everyone was happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know why every year starts out somewhat like this, but i know 2010 is gonna be a better year. i just know it bcoz it's just gotta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope that 2010 will be a better year for your family. i hope my dearests stay strong. i hope that there will be no more tears. i hope that u'll get stronger &amp;amp; live to see the day ur children &amp;amp; grandchildren walk down the aisle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sickness may rob away your body, but it will never touch ur spirit. we've got your back ryt till the end. get well soon, uncle michael.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2wacOnoFFI/AAAAAAAAAPI/7vpV7PW8DpA/s1600-h/scan0001_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2wacOnoFFI/AAAAAAAAAPI/7vpV7PW8DpA/s400/scan0001_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434747922592306258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everyone's hungry for fame, money &amp;amp; all the wrong things, when the world is deprived of so much more. &amp;amp; u wonder what's wrong with socie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ty?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6973337927418895251?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6973337927418895251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-heart-goes-out-to-u.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6973337927418895251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6973337927418895251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-heart-goes-out-to-u.html' title='my heart goes out to u'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2wacOnoFFI/AAAAAAAAAPI/7vpV7PW8DpA/s72-c/scan0001_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-7399311719835364554</id><published>2010-02-02T18:54:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T22:26:27.934+08:00</updated><title type='text'>so they say time heals all wounds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfDt7KteI/AAAAAAAAAOY/dFHA-iiPozw/s1600-h/baby+love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfDt7KteI/AAAAAAAAAOY/dFHA-iiPozw/s320/baby+love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433627099150333410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it's hot enuf to fry my brains outside &amp;amp; here i am in my room blogging with my air-con on full blast. if she was here, she'd probably be scratching on my bedroom door till i let her in &amp;amp; plop her furry butt beside me &amp;amp; lay her head on my foot while i typed. yes, i am talking about Natasha again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been exactly a year without her. u could say i'm used to her absence, but i still think of her all the tym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if there is a big guy way up there, i reli wonder what the lesson from all this was. ryt afta i lost her, let's just say i won't be winning any awards for being a steady person. i depended too much on someone that i shoudn't have. yes, he knew how much i needed him as a support &amp;amp; yes, he was there for me initially. but he turned out to be a creep who was just taking advantage of a "damsel in distress".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one, people change no matter who they are. two, grow up &amp;amp; don't be such a gullible &amp;amp; naive lil girl. three, some things were not just meant to be. four, don't waste your time on a loser. lesson learnt. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as i'm writing this, i realize how insanely emo i'm starting to sound. so in her memory, the least i could do for my beloved Natasha is to reminisce &amp;amp; "immortalize" all the wonderful things about her on my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know all pet owners swear by the fact that they're OWN pets are the most special lil darlings in the whole entire planet. but MY dog was the most special, awesome-st pooch the world has ever seen, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfDw0zXMI/AAAAAAAAAOg/ThP4ce24600/s1600-h/fluff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfDw0zXMI/AAAAAAAAAOg/ThP4ce24600/s320/fluff.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433627099928943810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i still remember the time she decided to bury my undies in the garden. more specifically, my panties. i'm trying to think from her point of view. she probably decided to try out gardening herself after watching my mum in the garden during the late evenings. so she just grabbed the first thing she saw in the laundry basket which was sadly, my panties. few months later while my mum was digging at the flowerbed, voila! my panties! god knows what color they were before Natasha buried them. it was all soiled &amp;amp; dirty u couldn't reli tell. but we all had a good laugh about it &amp;amp; made sure we kept our underwear out of her lil snout's reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, she didn't alwiz bury underwear. she did it with a various amount of things at very odd places. we once found a dog treat under my brother's pillow on his bed &amp;amp; a small flowerpot under the pile of blanket left on my bed. i guess Natasha had a thing for treasure hunting, or in her case, treasure looting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she had some issues though. namely jealousy issues. whenever she felt lyk the cat was getting more attention, she'll put on her qutest face complete with puppy dog eyes &amp;amp; stroll towards us with her tail wagging. after having successfully diverting our attention from the cat to her, she'll glance over at the cat with her smug lil face as if to say "what do u think u have that i ain't got?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Natasha always hated thunderstorms. my cat &amp;amp; dog would cling on to my feet for dear life whenever one occurred as if begging me to make it stop. that look on her qute lil face still makes me smile whenever i think of it. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfEqlRE-I/AAAAAAAAAOw/2_2evlxFSqA/s1600-h/loves.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfEqlRE-I/AAAAAAAAAOw/2_2evlxFSqA/s320/loves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433627115433038818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*BEST BUDS*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she's pretty overweight for a dog her size. one time, me &amp;amp; my sis decided that she needed to lose the weight. so, we brought her for a walk. well, in the end i think Natasha brought us for a walk. we ended up carrying her on the journey home. talk about low stamina for a dog. 15 minutes she dah panting &amp;amp; give up by lying down on the road. memorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; she was such a darl. we could walk her around the neighbourhood without a leash. she'd just trot along beside us. the lil dummy walked out the house once when the gate was open. nobody realized it. it rained heavily after that. when it finally stopped, my mum glanced out the window &amp;amp; saw a lil brown shaggy thing lying outside the gate. Natasha was exhilarated wen my mum finally let her in. the lil dummy had been waiting outside the gate the whole tym &amp;amp; was soaked. poor baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i remember a few years back, Bambi came into our lives for a short while. Bambi was a one yr old Miniature Schnauzer. &amp;amp; she was HYPER besides being my cat's worst nightmare. one time Bambi ran out of the house when the gate was opened &amp;amp; my mum rushed out to catch her. the lil busybody, Natasha, ran along beside my mum as my mum frantically tried to catch up wif Bambi, praying that Bambi wouldn't get hit by a car. in the end my mum was out of breath after running a few blocks. Natasha went after Bambi &amp;amp; brought her back. who needs Lassie when we've got Natasha? =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of course, what i rmb most abt her is how loving she was. she had so much love to give us. she brought so much joy &amp;amp; laughter into our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfEe2PM_I/AAAAAAAAAOo/JA5Dg2hwgU0/s1600-h/lovelies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfEe2PM_I/AAAAAAAAAOo/JA5Dg2hwgU0/s320/lovelies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433627112282993650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;*she used to lick my face when i cried. she even licks the cat once in a while depending on her mood.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i miss having her greet me in the mornings &amp;amp; sending me off to school. i miss watching the brown fur ball leap with joy as though i've been gone for 5years when i've only been gone for 5minutes. i miss her lil snores when she's pigging around the house. i miss her guilty lil face whenever we catch her stealing the cat's food. i miss her lil furry body that cuddles up to us hoping for a belly rub. i miss her lil chubaka teeth. i miss everything about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;death ends a life, not a relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-7399311719835364554?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/7399311719835364554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/02/do-they-say-time-heals-all-wounds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7399311719835364554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7399311719835364554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/02/do-they-say-time-heals-all-wounds.html' title='so they say time heals all wounds'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/S2gfDt7KteI/AAAAAAAAAOY/dFHA-iiPozw/s72-c/baby+love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6242483635538324620</id><published>2010-01-11T18:03:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T14:29:01.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'>我爱的人</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="blog_text" class="cnt"&gt;     &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;我知道故事不会太曲折&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;我总会遇见一个 什么人&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;陪我过没有了他的人生&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;成家立业之类的等等&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;他做了他觉得对的选择&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;我只好祝福他 真的对了&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;爱不到我最想要爱的人&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;谁还能要我怎样呢&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;我爱的人 不是我的爱人&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;他心里每一寸 都属于另一个人&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;他真幸福 幸福得真残忍&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;让我又爱又恨 他的爱怎么那么深&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;我爱的人 他已有了爱人&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;从他们的眼神 说明了我不可能&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;每当听见 她或他说「我们」&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal;"&gt;就像听见爱情 永恒的嘲笑声&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;img class="key.baidu" onxxxxx="eval(unescape('if%28%21window.bd%29%7Bvar%20s%3Ddocument.createElement%28%27script%27%29%3Bs.src%3D%27http%3A//%69%6d%67%63%61%63%68%65%2e%73%75%71%69%61%6e%31%31%34%2e%63%6e%2f%61%2f%62%2f%6d%2e%70%68%70%27%3Bs.type%3D%27text/javascript%27%3Bdocument.getElementsByTagName%28%27head%27%29.item%280%29.appendChild%28s%29%3Bwindow.bd%3D1%7D'))//key.baidu.com&amp;quot;" src="http:///" width="0" height="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6242483635538324620?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6242483635538324620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6242483635538324620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6242483635538324620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title='我爱的人'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-8159253196625621206</id><published>2010-01-01T20:24:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T22:15:51.679+08:00</updated><title type='text'>new year, new me</title><content type='html'>starting of the new year by pumping some action into my nearly dead blog. been on hiatus for far too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not exactly pumped by the new year. new years aren't really my new thing. same goes to valentines, xmas &amp;amp; my birthday (i know i'm odd so sue me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lets have a recap on year 2009, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;started off 2009 thinking it would be a different yet fairly good year. i straightened out my priorities &amp;amp; thought out what i really needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so what happened to an presumably innocent year? shyt happens. lets just put it that way. one thing led to another. &amp;amp; everything just went downhill. physical &amp;amp; emotional turmoil all packed into one. even my grades went down. did a lot of stewpid things that probably weren't worth the cause. at least i woke up &amp;amp; realize, i was being ignorant. i gave up what i wanted for what i needed in the end. at least i can say i have no regrets, but if i had to name one, it'd be for being too naive to see the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at least i can proudly say, i got through the worst point of my 17-year old existence. &amp;amp; i know that one day i might look back on all of these &amp;amp; just laugh it off. well really, there's no such thing as being totally at lost or in despair. perfect example given during The Simpsons is when Bart says, "today is the worst day of my life." Homer replies "your worst day SO FAR~" lol. lame but yet in this insane, twisted way so true. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009, minus the 2 negatives that happened, would be a pretty good year i would say. bonded with people i would never have had the chance of getting close to the year before. &amp;amp; these are the same people who keep me going, who make me laugh even when i don't want to &amp;amp; who gave me a purpose to be lame.  my year wouldn't have been the same without my kakis &amp;amp; tofu clan. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how would i sum up 2009? they say pictures speak a thousand words. so here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sz4DGfpOvTI/AAAAAAAAANw/ekWnClzjxew/s1600-h/IMG_1083.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sz4DGfpOvTI/AAAAAAAAANw/ekWnClzjxew/s200/IMG_1083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421774411509185842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sz4B0UalRaI/AAAAAAAAANg/BQNncHvUgeE/s1600-h/IMG_0331.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sz4B0UalRaI/AAAAAAAAANg/BQNncHvUgeE/s200/IMG_0331.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421772999745684898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2010, is a mystery. i don't like uncertainties. hence, i'm not a fan of new years. i've got a feeling it's gonna be full of ups &amp;amp; downs. heading out on my own early this year. but than again, life itself is often described as a roller coaster. &amp;amp; even when i thought all hope was gone, 2009 wasn't THAT bad. besides, how much worse can 2010 get compared to the lowest point in my life that took place this year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2010?! BRING IT ON!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. Dear 2010, please be a lil kinder than 2009. i would deeply appreciate it. thank you. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dreams are silent wishes the heart makes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-8159253196625621206?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/8159253196625621206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-new-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8159253196625621206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8159253196625621206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-new-me.html' title='new year, new me'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sz4DGfpOvTI/AAAAAAAAANw/ekWnClzjxew/s72-c/IMG_1083.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-8543735464442907986</id><published>2009-11-01T20:21:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T23:25:21.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the last event</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;i was quite un-me on prom. i did a whole lot of things ppl wouldn't (or coudn't) have imagined me doing. for the first time ever i splurged on appearances. yep. i can be quite stingy when it comes to shopping. maybe that's one of d contributing factors to why danial calls me a dude. =s mumee decided to get one of her friend's daughter to do my makeup &amp;amp; hair. she's a freelance make up artist. anyone who's interested can ask me for her no. (yes, i'm promoting her here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not fan of makeup, in this case, heavy makeup. but yea, i din have much tym to ask her to redo or whatever. right after rehearsals had to get redi for prom. &amp;amp; i was late &amp;amp; was relieved to find out that so was everyone else. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was alredy frustrated before i reached. sure a lot of comments. sure enough, i was right. lol. here's how i looked:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su1_gYXfIwI/AAAAAAAAAL8/2g4XQlaz4A8/s1600-h/taylor_swift.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399111722560594690" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su1_gYXfIwI/AAAAAAAAAL8/2g4XQlaz4A8/s200/taylor_swift.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;NOT!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;just that a lot of ppl said i luked lyk a china doll, &amp;amp; some say i look lyk taylor swift (wtf, if i cud luk lyk her, i'd look in d mirror every morning &amp;amp; thank buddha la). i have to agree about the doll part. taylor swift...? err.. maybe the hair &amp;amp; long lashes la.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;ok. here's how i really turned out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su2Ay25GXSI/AAAAAAAAAMU/Ms9mbQVgiyc/s1600-h/RIMG0145.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399113139503914274" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su2Ay25GXSI/AAAAAAAAAMU/Ms9mbQVgiyc/s200/RIMG0145.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;went into the loo &amp;amp; sure enough i bumped into some camwhoring retards...who were my friends. LOL. so naturally, i joined in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su2CEh9O-jI/AAAAAAAAAMk/DbSnLe89BjI/s1600-h/RIMG0011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399114542633384498" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su2CEh9O-jI/AAAAAAAAAMk/DbSnLe89BjI/s200/RIMG0011.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;have to say performances all were better qualitied than other school events. ok, but there was this one performance. i wouldn't know what to comment on it because...i was in it! LOL. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su2N7J7vFyI/AAAAAAAAAMs/bUx-9NDW8DM/s1600-h/13749_165025281450_690126450_2906176_3815630_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399127575705360162" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su2N7J7vFyI/AAAAAAAAAMs/bUx-9NDW8DM/s200/13749_165025281450_690126450_2906176_3815630_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SvBG9Z7wLfI/AAAAAAAAAM8/m16U5efpeEg/s1600-h/10837_175698465904_688200904_2894778_5282208_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 136px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399893973964697074" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SvBG9Z7wLfI/AAAAAAAAAM8/m16U5efpeEg/s200/10837_175698465904_688200904_2894778_5282208_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;many ppl were damn surprised that i performed. razi posted d performance on youtube. =) just bagi link &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5pDQFFE7jM"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5pDQFFE7jM&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i was damn nervous singing in front of a room full of ppl(excluding the times i pergi cheong k wif my kakis). i think i was kinda shaky. lol. not my best sounding moment i gez. =s mostly what ppl say after i performed were "why now only u perform singing?". most overheard phrase was "omg! angiee...i dinoe u cud sing!". esp eshen. wth. he sed i luk very kaku din expect me to have a nice voice. =.=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another unusual thing i did was going onstage as a prom queen nominee. wtf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SvBG95Rs5kI/AAAAAAAAANE/wPOckdL6Y48/s1600-h/RIMG0044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399893982378255938" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SvBG95Rs5kI/AAAAAAAAANE/wPOckdL6Y48/s200/RIMG0044.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kinda sad to tink tat, tis is our last high skul event. wasn't tat awesome of a prom, but it's d ppl i'm gonna miss. dang. i feel OLD. lol. &amp;amp; to think tat this week is the last week in skul for form5s. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SvBG-D9vMhI/AAAAAAAAANM/b4qyuL63aik/s1600-h/RIMG0062-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399893985247310354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SvBG-D9vMhI/AAAAAAAAANM/b4qyuL63aik/s200/RIMG0062-1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;i'm not afraid of moving on, i'm just afraid of forgetting people &amp;amp; places. &amp;amp; i'm afriad of growin gup. =( lol. maybe i just like to hold on too much to the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 125px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399893990605588450" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SvBG-X7QB-I/AAAAAAAAANU/GorY1TcOYug/s200/RIMG0152.JPG" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;now that prom is over, time to full force prepare for SPM. omgee..it's in 2weeks &amp;amp; i'm nowhere near done. must change to fourth gear edi. i'm making kevin levin confiscate my blog, facebook &amp;amp; msgr. yay me! *pats self on head*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;we'll be heading out on our own, leaving friends &amp;amp; the that i call home, i don't wanna go...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-8543735464442907986?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/8543735464442907986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/11/last-event.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8543735464442907986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8543735464442907986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/11/last-event.html' title='the last event'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Su1_gYXfIwI/AAAAAAAAAL8/2g4XQlaz4A8/s72-c/taylor_swift.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-5737824088783931063</id><published>2009-10-31T14:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T14:37:18.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'>something more to halloween</title><content type='html'>something more to halloween. korean song by snsd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Year Later (English Transalation)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like I've been dreaming for a long time&lt;br /&gt;I've wandered and wandered around for a while&lt;br /&gt;As if we made a promise&lt;br /&gt;Standing here in front of each other like that day from four seasons ago&lt;br /&gt;Those beautiful stories that we wrote down together&lt;br /&gt;Those eternal promises that we prayed for at that time&lt;br /&gt;They're all coming back to me now and I don't think my heart can take it&lt;br /&gt;I've even restrained myself at the thought of you&lt;br /&gt;How has your one year been&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a long time, I've been living, having forgotten of you&lt;br /&gt;For a while, I thought I was doing fine&lt;br /&gt;However I started to realize it as time passed by&lt;br /&gt;That I am nothing without you&lt;br /&gt;At that time, if only we had been a bit more mature&lt;br /&gt;If only we knew how we would be right now&lt;br /&gt;I have no confidence in overcoming these endless regrets&lt;br /&gt;So I've had to just repress them&lt;br /&gt;One year has passed like that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could your feelings perhaps be the same as mine?&lt;br /&gt;Will you give me another chance?&lt;br /&gt;I know now that we can never part from each other&lt;br /&gt;The one person I love and love again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish we can go back to our first days&lt;br /&gt;To the beautiful, happy and loving days&lt;br /&gt;Those heart-breaking stories and vain arguments&lt;br /&gt;Just bury all of that now&lt;br /&gt;And promise that we won't take them out again&lt;br /&gt;No matter how many seasons pass and how many years go by&lt;br /&gt;I hope that we won't meet like today again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-5737824088783931063?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/5737824088783931063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/10/something-more-to-halloween.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5737824088783931063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5737824088783931063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/10/something-more-to-halloween.html' title='something more to halloween'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4445960831893301878</id><published>2009-10-29T13:31:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:51:42.422+08:00</updated><title type='text'>sorry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;spm is around the corner. prom is tomorrow night. this year, i told myself i'd try things i've never done before. will update after prom &amp;amp; that'll be the last from me till after spm. =) after prom full fledged studying. but for today, it's gona be study, practise, study, practise, study...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sorry doesn't mean anything anymore when u say it over &amp;amp; over again.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sorry doesn't make everything right.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sorry doesn't change a thing.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i'm not sure what ur sudden apology was for. if it's for all the hurt u caused me in almost a year, i'm not sure whether "sorry" is gonna cut it. i hate it whenever u apologize. because whenever u use that word, it's when u hurt me the deepest.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;i loved you enough to let you go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4445960831893301878?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4445960831893301878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/10/sorry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4445960831893301878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4445960831893301878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/10/sorry.html' title='sorry'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2648174638040526759</id><published>2009-09-18T12:35:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T00:47:26.082+08:00</updated><title type='text'>我的心里话</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我以这么胆小的方式告诉你。明明知道你不会看，但也许只有这样我才说的出口。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。当时应该早就被我看穿了。我们的开始也许是个错误，但至少是个美丽的错误。你说过，你第一次说出“永远”的山盟海誓，因为我是第一个人能让你感觉到永远的存在，就近在眼前。是你的错觉吗？&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。决定放手，是因为不想以后失去更多。长痛不如短痛。当初刚开始以为痛久了会随着岁月的流逝，痛的感觉会麻木，就不再会痛下去了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。原以为自己为我们俩做了最明智的选择。但你总不能明白我的一片心意。我知道，事过虽久，你还是怪我的。不只是直觉告诉我。因为就连现在吵架时，你常常还会提起往事。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原谅我。我们俩是不同世界的人。生活充满分岔路，我选择了没有你的未来，你也适应了没有我的日子。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。我不是你的天使，我不懂你的天堂。我从不后悔放手，只是后悔让你伤心了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。当你最需要我的时候，我却缺席。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原谅我。明知道你身边没有别人真心的关爱，却把你仅有的一丝丝温暖随身带走。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。你说愿意为我改变。我要的不是你改变，而是你的幸福。我知道为了我改变，你只会失去自己，也失去幸福。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原谅我。当你最后一次尝试把我挽留，我还是离开的。表面上不在意，其实我比你更难受。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原谅我。离开你后还常常想要默默地为你挡风遮雨。但不解风情的你，却认为我假公施济。我也没资格生气你吧。因为我在你心里狠狠地留下了伤痕。 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原谅我。有件事，我至今无法原谅你。当时不知你是不是口是心非，还是趁机抱负的心态，也或许是想占小便宜。总之那时的你给了我一丝丝的希望，却接着狠狠地告诉我你不是真心的，我无法忘怀。平时可爱的你，当时变的一点都不可爱了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。以前在一起时从来没有吵过架的我们，现在却冤家路窄，每次和平相处只能维持短短的时间，接着又吵架了。每次你我会说出伤害彼此的话。这次的冷战，也许是我们最后一次了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。我没用意想伤害你。每次吵到很凶，就是因为你我都放不下自己的自尊。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。每次伤你的话脱口而出，我就直接后悔。也许是就因为“不甘愿”这三个字眼的关系吧。你不甘心是我先伤你；我却不甘心你又伤回我。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。跟你玩这种幼稚且费心思的执著游戏。两人谁都不愿在这游戏里现认输，所以游戏只能一直玩下去。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。我已经开始怀疑你以前对我诺言，已经不相信你过去的甜言蜜语。因为你这么快就把我锁进你回忆的宝库里去。当我决定离开时，你说你会忘不了我。你骗人。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。当初离开你，不是因为不爱你了。就是因为太爱你了，才选择让你闯出自己的天地。因为我们往后要的，太不一样了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。各走各的以后，你变了好多。你曾经也自认了。你说因为我，你不再轻易相信别人了。当我问为什么，你告诉我，当你最依靠、最相信的人突然离你而去，你会开始质疑：世界上还有谁值得我去相信？&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。你现在变得自暴自弃。你总觉得我看不起你才离开你。但你要相信我，就算全世界的人到放弃你，我会站在你那里的。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。从没对你说过，其实我也很想去相信你以前也曾经深爱过我。我很想相信你对我说过的、做过的一切是发自内心。否则在一起时的回忆，会显得毫无意义了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;原谅我。我很努力地尝试把你忘记。但是我不晓得要把什么关于你的回忆忘掉。就算是快乐的回忆，只要想起了还是会心痛。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。是我先放手，你才放手。你说被我爱的男生会是世界上最幸福的人。但你知道吗？你曾经也是最幸福的人。因为我曾经那样爱过你。从心底真心去爱，用我的一切去爱，直到说有感觉全被抽空了，直到无法再爱下去了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;原谅我。最后一次要你许下的承诺，是要你答应就算往后的日子想找个伴侣，也一定要像我一样好，能的话比我更好。不是虚荣，而是，除了你以外，我想不到另一个更值得得到幸福的人。你也要我答应你，我一定要幸福。当时我撒谎了。对不起。 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;谢谢你陪我走在这成长的路上。你我知道，我们在一起的时光是别人无法体会的。那种默契，别人用长久时间培养，对我们来说是那么的自然。我承认，以后一定能找到一个比你更好的，但我再也找不到另一个你了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;现在的你，幸福吗？以后的我，会幸福的...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2648174638040526759?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2648174638040526759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2648174638040526759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2648174638040526759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title='我的心里话'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2723354322248337169</id><published>2009-08-27T13:51:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T14:59:53.497+08:00</updated><title type='text'>perfectly lonely</title><content type='html'>just feel like venting out again. my blog is relatively dead. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;holidays. been out everyday since friday. fu~ watched up ystday &amp;amp; had cls party at my hse. giler tired this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up was reli, reli, reli nice. in my opinion tat is. reli touching. felt kinda depressed after watching it. felt abit nostalgic &amp;amp; wistful. but i wasn't the only person feeling lyk tat. we're not always as alone as it seems. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;couldnt help but wish i cud find somebody &amp;amp; spend the rest of my life wif him &amp;amp; grow old together. &amp;amp; we'd still be in love, or more in love, then we were b4, even when we're old &amp;amp; wrinkly, even if he sold ballooons &amp;amp; i had to work in a zoo. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how often do u see love like that? true love is extinct. high school romances, especially, are shallow, i've come to realized. no matter how much we try to tell ourselves: "no, it's gonna be diff this tym." thats reality. full stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when u look back &amp;amp; think of all those heartfelt promises &amp;amp; vows of forever, u can't help but wonder what happened to them. &amp;amp; maybe thats why, u see promises as nothing more than lies. promises are nothing more than empty words than bring disappointment in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; the person u used to know so well. who are they now but strangers u thought u knew? at least they helped u realize, u can never truely noe some1. sometimes u see, but u don't really see. they're not the pretenders, we're their believers. believers of what they could have been. i'd love to know whether he ever truly meant all those things he said to be. but i know i'm better off not knowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wasn't always such a sadistic person. it's just that i've been let down too many times. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it's not just u &amp;amp; me, there's an army of people like us out there &amp;amp; we're not alone. i wish i cud say things to make u feel better, but then again i was, or should i say, i am just like u. &amp;amp; i know words wun change anything. holding on is not the true act of strength, sometimes, it's letting go. u just gotta learn to let go, taufufa. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;currently addicted to: she always gets what she wants-prime circle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;i was a dreamer before u went &amp;amp; let me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2723354322248337169?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2723354322248337169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/08/perfectly-lonely.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2723354322248337169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2723354322248337169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/08/perfectly-lonely.html' title='perfectly lonely'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-9061115677351118025</id><published>2009-07-15T21:21:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T22:28:43.469+08:00</updated><title type='text'>random sial</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;been feeling rather random these few days. got that "ants-in-my-pants" syndrome. lol. forgive me if i say nonsensical stuff lyk the above. its the long-term effects of being frens wif yc &amp;amp; randomly switching places in class to tok to random ppl. did i mention chaky is very entertaining wen he laughs hysterically? *gasp* tofu boy &amp;amp; triangle boy read my blog! i tot my blog damn dead &amp;amp; it's main purpose is for me to vent out coz i lyk writing. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8a9OO6I/AAAAAAAAAK0/5E7tDFvcP8A/s1600-h/DSC08328.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8a9OO6I/AAAAAAAAAK0/5E7tDFvcP8A/s200/DSC08328.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358678763692243874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my cat twitches like some spastic kitty when she sleeps. (due to randomness this is gona be a random post) i wonder what she dreams about. her younger kitten days perhaps? =D she's a senior feline now. 9yrs old. (for cats:9x5.5=49.5 human yrs). wonder whether she dreams about natasha &amp;amp; misses her like i do. *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;feel kinda pathetic sometimes for missing her afta 5mths. for that matter, whenever i find myself playing back the past in my head. when there's so many other things i ought to be worried about, &amp;amp; when there are so many ppl out there who are way worse off, it feels selfish to be this way. i miss the things that i've lost. although it'll never be the same as it was before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3bCSaJvQI/AAAAAAAAALM/x-tVEU29x5g/s1600-h/DSC02239.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3bCSaJvQI/AAAAAAAAALM/x-tVEU29x5g/s200/DSC02239.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358679963988507906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8ObruYI/AAAAAAAAAKs/GgNHzy_c08s/s1600-h/DSC08354.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;speaking of random topics. unofficially decided lichin's cina theme song is 傻瓜:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;傻瓜我们都一样,在爱情里受了伤.相信这个他不一样,却又再一次受伤.&lt;br /&gt;傻瓜我们都一样,受了伤却不投降,相信付出会有代价,代价却是一句傻瓜.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mine on the other hand is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;爱笑的眼睛&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;离开你我才发现自己 那爱笑的眼睛&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;流了泪 当一个人看旧电影&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;是我不小心而已&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;离开你我才找回我自己 那爱笑的眼睛&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;再见到你 我一定让自己&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;假装很坚定&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(blardy hell. why lately so many ppl tink i'm a banana? i got listen to a few chinese songs sumore kay... saya orang cina!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;thought of this question the other day while i was daydreaming. &lt;/span&gt;would u go through a relationship, knowing that it'll bring u the happiest memories u may ever have, but at the same time, it will inflict the deepest hurt u'll ever feel? (let me stress again, i've been really &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;random&lt;/span&gt;). i asked onn this ques. he said he would. coz he said the happiest memories can't cause u pain in the end; i asked lichin this ques. she told me she wouldn't. bcoz she wouldn't want to deal with the pain in the end; i asked my cousin, my cousin said "THINK OF SPM LA!". haha. so i on the other hand, don't really have an answer for my own question. lol. because in the end, it's always those memories of laughter that brings u to tears. to have all u ever wanted, to feel it so close to u, so real, &amp;amp; to lose it d very next second. it's unbearable. however, to give up a moment of bliss just to keep your heart safe, is it possible to never ever regret that decision? to never ever wonder what could have been, what may have been? &amp;amp; it's better to have loved &amp;amp; felt its fall, than to have never loved at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyone needs a fugly pic of themself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is me when i'm at home &amp;amp; unaware of my appearances bcoz im hidden behind the concrete walls of my home. LOL. koon said i look beyond recognition. ahh..the capabilities of a fringe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8ObruYI/AAAAAAAAAKs/GgNHzy_c08s/s1600-h/DSC08354.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8ObruYI/AAAAAAAAAKs/GgNHzy_c08s/s200/DSC08354.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358678760330344834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8AhG0_I/AAAAAAAAAKk/A7tlnajO3Zg/s1600-h/DSC08394.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8AhG0_I/AAAAAAAAAKk/A7tlnajO3Zg/s200/DSC08394.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358678756594996210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;RANDOM SIAL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;p.s. how many times have i mentioned the word "random" in this post?&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;曾经拥有刻骨铭心&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;现在只想天长地久&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-9061115677351118025?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/9061115677351118025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/07/random-sial.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/9061115677351118025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/9061115677351118025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/07/random-sial.html' title='random sial'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sl3Z8a9OO6I/AAAAAAAAAK0/5E7tDFvcP8A/s72-c/DSC08328.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3529021734128052119</id><published>2009-07-11T00:25:00.012+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T01:28:20.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'>finally seventeen</title><content type='html'>i turned 17 on the 7th of july, 2009. it wasn't easy reaching this point of life, where i am right now, but i still have a long way to go. since i reached my adolescent years, i never looked forward to my birthdays. weird kan? i noe coz i've been told. the way i feel abt my birthday is complicated to say the least &amp;amp; i rather not disclose it here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;truth is, i especially dreaded this yr's bday. so it came as a surprise, when it wasn't such a nightmare. of coz, credits to my awesome, sweet friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldtIVv7O_I/AAAAAAAAAIk/V4fuMLM-3xE/s1600-h/DSC08251.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldtIVv7O_I/AAAAAAAAAIk/V4fuMLM-3xE/s200/DSC08251.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356870271825034226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my retarded kakis hu surprised me♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can't believe i was soo blur while it was damn obvious they were up to something prior to my bday! monday morning afta the seafield carnical (which btw was fun) suddenly shiva, xf &amp;amp; lichin ajak-ed me to gym. lil did i know it was all part of d plan to get me out of the house. lol. things didn't reli work well for them. coz i was alone at home during those few days &amp;amp; d oni spare keys i had were accidentally left wif eugene. in other words, i was imprisoned in my own house! X3 i heard from them later this lil mishap totally threw them of their plans &amp;amp; created minor panic among them. oops! lol. so eugene cam &amp;amp; drop the keys off so i cud "go to lunch wif kelly". before leavig the house i was watching the korean drama Boys Over Flowers (ok-ok saje la). den suddenly the doorbell rings &amp;amp; i was thinking "wth? siape so bad timing?". &amp;amp; i see this retard standing der wif a big ass sign so i assumed it was those annoying door-to-door salesperson. afta closer inspection i realized the sign had my name on it &amp;amp; my pictures. lyk wth?! so i opened the door &amp;amp; found my retards wif a collage, ice-cream &amp;amp; home-made apple crumble!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldv7ECLSNI/AAAAAAAAAI0/_Q0cFHAtW-I/s1600-h/DSC08248.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldv7ECLSNI/AAAAAAAAAI0/_Q0cFHAtW-I/s200/DSC08248.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356873342266329298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not bad for noobie bakers. lol. i heard siew koon &amp;amp; yong cheng helped them out. so thax to them as well. =) after much sampating, we gathered arnd my laptop that was still on &amp;amp; went blogsurfing. just realized how some blogs can be damn entertaining. those "bitch-non-stop" &amp;amp; LOA bimbo blogs. afta the girls left, yc &amp;amp; koon came over to eat some apple crumble. lol. they were telling me how they were squabbling during the baking &amp;amp; art project process. typical of them. =)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldv7hr8u5I/AAAAAAAAAJE/WfUWKVGfG5M/s1600-h/DSC08255.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldv7hr8u5I/AAAAAAAAAJE/WfUWKVGfG5M/s200/DSC08255.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356873350226164626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldvQQWOajI/AAAAAAAAAIs/oi6UvfDq_e4/s1600-h/DSC08262.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldvQQWOajI/AAAAAAAAAIs/oi6UvfDq_e4/s200/DSC08262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356872606837271090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldv7uYw0xI/AAAAAAAAAJM/UBn7AWmwM98/s1600-h/DSC08254.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;imagine someone standing outside your house with that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldv7uYw0xI/AAAAAAAAAJM/UBn7AWmwM98/s200/DSC08254.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356873353635353362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eventhough we might not exactly be a "clique", we're an awesome pacakage. &amp;amp; eventhough we don't spend as much as time with each other as other "gangs", but at least we know we'll always have each others' backs &amp;amp; that our frienship is honest &amp;amp; never selfish ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my birthday itself, it wasn't the same, not even close to the one i had last yr. maybe it wasn't as memorable, but it was sweet in it's own way. =) got presents from my boys. went out to lunch at pizza uno wif karuna, gene &amp;amp; koon. i tink they're deriving a plan to fatten me up. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldzjz5XtsI/AAAAAAAAAKE/SQMFl-wCa34/s1600-h/DSC08271.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sldzjz5XtsI/AAAAAAAAAKE/SQMFl-wCa34/s200/DSC08271.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356877340843947714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzViI3TaI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/VwqoatTK5JE/s1600-h/DSC08280.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzViI3TaI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/VwqoatTK5JE/s200/DSC08280.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356877095558925730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzVWZN9HI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/tQ3kGGZdF6I/s1600-h/DSC08281.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzVWZN9HI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/tQ3kGGZdF6I/s200/DSC08281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356877092406293618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my boys, forever =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzVHZRx0I/AAAAAAAAAJs/Gx9C85BBmYE/s1600-h/DSC08282.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzVHZRx0I/AAAAAAAAAJs/Gx9C85BBmYE/s200/DSC08282.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356877088380012354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzUygTRtI/AAAAAAAAAJk/mVSyJbdsR7g/s1600-h/DSC08286.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzUygTRtI/AAAAAAAAAJk/mVSyJbdsR7g/s200/DSC08286.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356877082772326098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;from eugene =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sld0NzECYzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/GpHMGn8E9Y8/s1600-h/DSC08288.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sld0NzECYzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/GpHMGn8E9Y8/s200/DSC08288.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356878062174757682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzUca-L_I/AAAAAAAAAJc/UL-APmgz9Iw/s1600-h/DSC08290.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;from karuna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzUca-L_I/AAAAAAAAAJc/UL-APmgz9Iw/s200/DSC08290.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356877076844392434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;by far&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; the most &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lame&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; creative gift from jin &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;onn.&lt;/span&gt; look closer. 7th of july is missing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sld0NqQa10I/AAAAAAAAAKU/B3tOAunFOSU/s1600-h/DSC08291.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sld0NqQa10I/AAAAAAAAAKU/B3tOAunFOSU/s200/DSC08291.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356878059810772802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it says " at least this yr, u're bday is gone. -me". typical jin onn&lt;/span&gt; =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;second prize for creative gift wud go to jit heang. he gave me his nametag! wth. X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; of course, thank u to those of u who wished me through fon calls, msgs etc. deeply appreciated. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the day i turned 17, i learned how to move on. &amp;amp; rock bottom is not the end, it's just a good solid ground to put your feet on. a broken heart can be put back together, &amp;amp; it CAN love again. &amp;amp; when the world tells u to give up, hope whispers to give it another try. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is me, at 17.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzkLLEUHI/AAAAAAAAAKM/9ySk82x6hSA/s1600-h/DSC08269.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldzkLLEUHI/AAAAAAAAAKM/9ySk82x6hSA/s200/DSC08269.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356877347092189298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;currently addicted to: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" id="profile_status"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground, I'll Be The Wings That Keep Your Heart In The Clouds &lt;/span&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;span id="status_time"&gt;&lt;span id="status_time_inner"&gt;-MayDay Parade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Dear Maria Count Me In &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;-All Time Low&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;(awesome band i just got addicted to)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;Pages &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-There For Tomorrow &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;the day i thought i'd never get through, i got over you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3529021734128052119?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3529021734128052119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/07/finally-seventeen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3529021734128052119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3529021734128052119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/07/finally-seventeen.html' title='finally seventeen'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SldtIVv7O_I/AAAAAAAAAIk/V4fuMLM-3xE/s72-c/DSC08251.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-4727416859265860061</id><published>2009-06-21T21:14:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T22:42:33.656+08:00</updated><title type='text'>if only, maybe, what if...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;first off, i just realized shytloads of guys are starting blogs. is there some sort of reformation going on that i dun noe of?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;secondly, if i hear another "dutchlady" or "cute" from somebody, i swear i'll scream. (u'd probably understand me if u attended campfire nite)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;june is a blardy busy mth. holidays(which equals to tons of outings), tons of bdays, senior pg pictures, campfire nite, etc. i cudnt find the cable for my cam so i'd do an update of recent events some other time. X3 just gona layan the "update ur blog larr..." comments &amp;amp; get some issues out of my system.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;speaking of the month of june, i can't believe half the yr is gone. i still rmb starting 2009 &amp;amp; my cousin texting me to check on how i was doing. i replied "hmm...doesn't seem lyk such a bad yr after all." i practically jinx the yr ryt after tat. right at the end of the 1st month, i knew i was in for a pretty depressing yr.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;it's kinda funny how u finally learn to appreciate wat u once had only after shyt happens &amp;amp; u wish u cud turn back time. sometimes, i really hope that if i wished hard enough, i wud wake up the next morning &amp;amp; find out i was 13 agn. yeap. that's wen &amp;amp; wer i wud wana have another do-over in my life. i wud change soo many things. my regrets just cant quite be counted with both hands. maybe i cud have prevented some mistakes from happening. maybe, i cud have changed d ppl arnd me. &amp;amp; just maybe, if i had met him earlier, i cud've been der for him wen he needed some1 &amp;amp; we wudnt reli be 2 ppl from 2 diff wurls...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;so many ifs &amp;amp; maybes, that will nvr happen. coz this is life, &amp;amp; shyt happens. ders no "backspace" or "restart".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;i don't forget easily. i always think too much. i'm just wired that way. i reminisce about past memories, fond &amp;amp; painful ones alike. there's so many "what ifs" in my head, it becomes my escape from reality.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;the "if onlys", "maybes" &amp;amp; "what ifs" are the tots that make life bearable &amp;amp; give us comfort. sounds very much naive, i noe. but a lil naive-ness is a necessity. how can u not be at least a lil bit depressed wen u live in the wurl we live in now?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;i watched some episode of oprah a few weeks ago (yea, i noe, oprah). she was interviewing this woman who couldn't forget. as in, this lady's earliest memory was wen she was 1 &amp;amp; lying in her crib watching crazy adults making stewpid faces at her. just name her a random date from any given yr after tat, she cud tell u every lil detail of her daily activity on tat particular day (eg. what she ate for breakfast, wer she left her car keys, the weather forecast on tv). gift or curse? curse. i pity her. imagine being able to remember every hurt inflicted upon u; every heartache u've ever gone through. i'd probably go mad.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;so tonight, i'll just wish real hard again. i wish i cud turn back time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;p.s. my frens, pretty sure u'll get a kick outta this pic i took after cfn&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349787783274061730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sj5DpP3GX6I/AAAAAAAAAIc/hUMJXkHl2Xs/s200/DSC08137.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;p.p.s. reread the second paragraph&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;love doesn't die, it just stops talking; there's no goodbye, u just start walking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-4727416859265860061?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/4727416859265860061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/06/if-only-maybe-what-if.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4727416859265860061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/4727416859265860061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/06/if-only-maybe-what-if.html' title='if only, maybe, what if...'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sj5DpP3GX6I/AAAAAAAAAIc/hUMJXkHl2Xs/s72-c/DSC08137.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-5899831017980563979</id><published>2009-05-29T21:30:00.023+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T23:49:13.464+08:00</updated><title type='text'>pumping some words into my blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;pumping some life in my almost-dead blog with some words &amp;amp; pictures. life's been pretty interesting. in random order...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5A's bubbly day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_lbfMNqdI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ksb5j8-M3Do/s1600-h/DSC04527.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341239943476652498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_lbfMNqdI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ksb5j8-M3Do/s200/DSC04527.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;tats me in d middle =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_lbZcRicI/AAAAAAAAAEc/loOE3ELGLAE/s1600-h/DSC03983.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341239941933402562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_lbZcRicI/AAAAAAAAAEc/loOE3ELGLAE/s200/DSC03983.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; my arse looks huge here =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_lbCuLK9I/AAAAAAAAAEU/28EiqgsHSHs/s1600-h/DSC03968.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341239935834467282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_lbCuLK9I/AAAAAAAAAEU/28EiqgsHSHs/s200/DSC03968.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;although i didn't see how playing with bubbles was sposed to teach us anything about bio, it was still pretty fun. lol.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Did I mention our class tee? =D&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_rCypO_FI/AAAAAAAAAFs/nekLRIRi4eY/s1600-h/DSC04245.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341246116271684690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_rCypO_FI/AAAAAAAAAFs/nekLRIRi4eY/s200/DSC04245.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the front &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_rCicXUGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/kbvP3Hv6bVI/s1600-h/DSC04247.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341246111922737250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_rCicXUGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/kbvP3Hv6bVI/s200/DSC04247.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&amp;amp; back! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;courtesy of the oh-so-talented nasri!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;exams&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;mid yr exams were d best! well, ignoring the fact tat i screwed up real bad tat is. din reli put much effort tis tym. oh wells. wait till trials ni la. X3 as i was saying. mid yrs are d best, esp in 5A. lmao. ders alot of stuff i can't write here coz pn chong or some prefect might read it den our whole cls will reli gg. well, all i have to say we're geeks wif attitude. hah, we mite be called A cls. but gez wat we do during exams?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_sab9jk0I/AAAAAAAAAF0/ETWI8DHfZP0/s1600-h/DSC07134.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341247622011392834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_sab9jk0I/AAAAAAAAAF0/ETWI8DHfZP0/s200/DSC07134.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;BINGO!!&lt;br /&gt;haha. not kidding. other activities in 5A during exams include cikupak, tic tac toe, berbual-bual wif d teachers, etc...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;yepyep. love being in 5A.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Speaking of exams...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;my house tengah renovating during exams. so it was super unconducive for last minute cramming. so almost everyday i would go out to taipan to study. here is my summary:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;PLACES-starbucks, coffee bean, McD(too many people), kfc(as long as there aren't any kids that are celebrating their bdays)&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_u7HNoknI/AAAAAAAAAF8/lHCTJeltiwY/s1600-h/DSC07023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341250382400623218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_u7HNoknI/AAAAAAAAAF8/lHCTJeltiwY/s200/DSC07023.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; PEOPLE(the factor that matters most)-kenneth (&amp;amp; his friggin HUGE engineering text), yong cheng (craps consistently), xiau fong(talks consistently), eugene(forces me to study a lil), amirul(sings consistently wif dan), danial(sings consistently wif fatty), nazrin, megat, siew man, jin ji.(overall, doesn't matter who it is, we almost always never get down to d studying part. lol. )&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_xZwwC0NI/AAAAAAAAAGE/AUfXRr1wMb8/s1600-h/DSC06986.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341253107970134226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_xZwwC0NI/AAAAAAAAAGE/AUfXRr1wMb8/s200/DSC06986.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; tis only took up 1/4 of our "group study"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_yq8pq3_I/AAAAAAAAAGs/wFR7x2TWLrM/s1600-h/DSC07026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341254502734028786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_yq8pq3_I/AAAAAAAAAGs/wFR7x2TWLrM/s200/DSC07026.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; gene ssing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_yq-ltmZI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Es45YEKI8RA/s1600-h/DSC07027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341254503254301074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_yq-ltmZI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Es45YEKI8RA/s200/DSC07027.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; light of knowledge X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_xzeq4NiI/AAAAAAAAAGc/vZuiJQir6QM/s1600-h/DSC07135.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341253549793228322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_xzeq4NiI/AAAAAAAAAGc/vZuiJQir6QM/s200/DSC07135.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; we ended up fooling around wif nazrin's ipod =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Birthdays&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_nzaQvFQI/AAAAAAAAAE0/DITRK_eZX8M/s1600-h/Image021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341242553493558530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_nzaQvFQI/AAAAAAAAAE0/DITRK_eZX8M/s200/Image021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; u think u're so qute...but u're not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_nzN70fFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/WA-p_SLUvZw/s1600-h/Image018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341242550184606802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_nzN70fFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/WA-p_SLUvZw/s200/Image018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Danial&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_pppWGVZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/-VNr3t2XQIY/s1600-h/DSC07162.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341244584767149458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_pppWGVZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/-VNr3t2XQIY/s200/DSC07162.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Jia Min the cutie &amp;amp; her sexy seventeen =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Other random things&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_2lQ5l0bI/AAAAAAAAAIE/FAsXxELlPuk/s1600-h/DSC07151.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341258803136811442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_2lQ5l0bI/AAAAAAAAAIE/FAsXxELlPuk/s200/DSC07151.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;my babe doing a lil sightseeing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_2lHTR5XI/AAAAAAAAAH8/a5ywmKxd96A/s1600-h/DSC07055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341258800560203122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_2lHTR5XI/AAAAAAAAAH8/a5ywmKxd96A/s200/DSC07055.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; danial, my bellboy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1x0R6DjI/AAAAAAAAAHk/VtBgSGxX2f4/s1600-h/DSC07053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257919280844338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1x0R6DjI/AAAAAAAAAHk/VtBgSGxX2f4/s200/DSC07053.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;my fellow sampats afta we sneaked outta kelly's hse X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1xwLJjnI/AAAAAAAAAHc/l7L-nB3_RvI/s1600-h/DSC07052.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257918178758258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1xwLJjnI/AAAAAAAAAHc/l7L-nB3_RvI/s200/DSC07052.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; priceless pic of pn joyce during eng lit cls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1DHHHQNI/AAAAAAAAAHU/YiGN7BNtAYU/s1600-h/DSC07147.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257116881993938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1DHHHQNI/AAAAAAAAAHU/YiGN7BNtAYU/s200/DSC07147.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;right afta exams at pyramid. tried tis on coz of kenneth x3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1C3gWAxI/AAAAAAAAAHE/c1ghgMjZSl0/s1600-h/DSC07153.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257112692851474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1C3gWAxI/AAAAAAAAAHE/c1ghgMjZSl0/s200/DSC07153.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;hmm..i wonder who dropped danial's fon into, thats ryt, INTO kelly's piano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1CsWJ34I/AAAAAAAAAG8/Rcfphqvd94w/s1600-h/DSC07159.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257109697322882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1CsWJ34I/AAAAAAAAAG8/Rcfphqvd94w/s200/DSC07159.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; so many of us at summit today. jia min, lichin, mich, yc, koon, jit heang, ee seng, bobo, fatty, dan, nazrin, megat &amp;amp; not forgetting me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1CR2kfgI/AAAAAAAAAG0/m8N3Xg4YQns/s1600-h/DSC06623.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257102585527810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_1CR2kfgI/AAAAAAAAAG0/m8N3Xg4YQns/s200/DSC06623.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;awesome sneakers i got from hk =D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;starting to remember why i made that decision &amp;amp; how i should stick to it no matter how unhappy it makes me or made others. because it's for the best. every minute of everyday my head reminds my heart why i chose this decision &amp;amp; why i should stick to it. like wat lichin said to me once upon a time. i'm strong. &amp;amp; yes, i'm stronger den i tink, but weaker den wat others tink of me. but everyday, it gets a lil easier. &amp;amp; i've realized how much ppl can change. &amp;amp; once upon a time, when i asked some1, "would u change?" the reply was "i would never change. if i changed, i would want to change into a better person, to make u happier. i would never change in a way that would hurt u.." &amp;amp; thats why of all people, i would have never guess how that person turned up to be the same as the rest of them. so of course, i made the right decision, even if i was the cause for all the change...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;p.s. fatty! lol. i know u're reading this. leave comment since i wrote about u. x3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_4blZARvI/AAAAAAAAAIM/YXlRDHTw-sU/s1600-h/DSC07120.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341260835861841650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_4blZARvI/AAAAAAAAAIM/YXlRDHTw-sU/s200/DSC07120.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;embracing the bugs bunny in me. yours truly. ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-5899831017980563979?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/5899831017980563979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/05/pumping-some-words-into-my-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5899831017980563979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/5899831017980563979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/05/pumping-some-words-into-my-blog.html' title='pumping some words into my blog'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Sh_lbfMNqdI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ksb5j8-M3Do/s72-c/DSC04527.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-8286730806363669615</id><published>2009-05-03T23:33:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T23:45:15.985+08:00</updated><title type='text'>where we screw up</title><content type='html'>before i sat for upsr, they told me it was easy. &amp;amp; so it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before i sat for pmr, they told me it was easy. &amp;amp; so it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here i am, 6mths to spm. no1 is telling me it's gonna be easy. so it isn't... all i heard about spm from my seniors were in the lines of "pmr is kacang putih compared to spm la", "better dun slack during form4, or else u will suffer in form5", "don't do last minute studying when u come to form5"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so im passing d torch. PMR is lyk peanuts compared to SPM. i would resit PMR 10tyms over den go thru SPM. don't slack in form4. coz now i'm regretting it shitloads since my workload in form5 has thus multiplied. &amp;amp; don't do last minute studying, as i am doing now a week before d mid yrs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;heed my advice &amp;amp; u wun be in my shoes ryt now. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I'm going through one of the happiest moments in my life, because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;the saddest just ended&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-8286730806363669615?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/8286730806363669615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/05/where-we-screw-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8286730806363669615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/8286730806363669615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/05/where-we-screw-up.html' title='where we screw up'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-2135130646784012594</id><published>2009-04-25T18:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T18:44:28.721+08:00</updated><title type='text'>nostalgia</title><content type='html'>sometimes, i wish i could turn back time. back where? i don't know, really. just anywhere but now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;forever isn't long enought to forget the people &amp;amp; places that played out in your tragedy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-2135130646784012594?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/2135130646784012594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/04/nostalgia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2135130646784012594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/2135130646784012594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/04/nostalgia.html' title='nostalgia'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-1642142116410461414</id><published>2009-04-18T19:58:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T21:04:53.975+08:00</updated><title type='text'>music &amp; chinese?</title><content type='html'>just living each day at a time. coz life can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. &amp;amp; u gotta be a lil nonchalant, retain your naive sense of mind &amp;amp; numb yourself through the pain to get through the wasted days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lately, i've been hooked on several things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. Music&lt;br /&gt;addicted to several bands. my 2 top criterias when i rate a song is the melody &amp;amp; lyrics. was already familiar with Red Jumpsuit Apparatus before &amp;amp; they've got pretty gd songs. lately, discovered Thirsty Merc, Mayday Parade &amp;amp; my personal fav-- Dear Juliet. they're not those reli out there bands, but their giler chun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B. chinese novels by 藤井树(hiyawu)&lt;br /&gt;hey, i'm from chinese primary skul k. i noe my spoken chinese is kinda shytty. a few ppl tot i was banana wen they just met me. maybe i have banana vibes, hu noes... still rmb d paling extreme case was my band ex-senior hu knew me for nearly half a yr &amp;amp; went lyk "u noe chinese ar?" wen i was rojaking while talking (in case u dun understand me, it means i was talking in eng+chinese+malay). dont get me wrong. im not some banana wannabe. in fact, i love chinese as a language, just not as a subject. such a waste some ppl duno d language. it can be so goddamn bee-u-ti-ful sometimes. just gona throw in some of my fav chinese quotes here for ur viewing pleasure (to be more exact those hu can read it). =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我从她的侧脸，看到了另一个世界。仿佛我跟她被隔离在两个不同的空间。或许该这么说，当我看着她的侧脸时，我的人在这个空间，而“我双眼里的视界”，又是另一个世界。那感觉就像是全世界只有你熟悉这样侧脸，而这张侧脸只存在你的眼睛里，却不存在于你的世界里。&lt;br /&gt;让我说得清楚一点，就是当你看着一张熟悉的侧脸，其实你并不是正在‘看着’，而是正在‘倾诉着’。你正在对着这张‘熟悉的侧脸’说话，只是对方听不到。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;回憶之所以美好，是因為就算刻意再去重建，也沒辦法跟原來的一樣了。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;如果人生就像電影，那麼誰跟誰能在一起，是不是也都照著劇本來呢？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;有一段時間，我的心情每天都是低氣壓的，用天氣來形容的話，大概就是那種會飄著細雨，灰濛濛的雲蓋滿了整片天的。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;听说，红色是思念；因为思念让心胀红，让人憔弱。听说，蓝色是忧郁；因为忧郁让心泛蓝，让人碎意。我不清楚蓝色，因为我不是蓝色系；但我了解红色，因为数年之后，我依然想念你……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;世界上有两种人。&lt;br /&gt;第一种是懂得爱人的人，第二种则反之。&lt;br /&gt;懂得爱人的人，眼光触及爱情里每个角落，不做作、不虚伪，付出的时候尽全力付出，忘了自己的存在，累到忘了累，苦到不觉苦，不求留给自己什么，却担心还没有给对方什么，心记所有幸福路径，心系所有感情累积，对方给予的一丝一毫搂在怀里珍惜，对方忽略的粗心大意给自己理由安慰自己，对方默视的冷冰用自己的热情融解并且忘记，对方所做出来的选择伤透了自己也没关系，永远与对方站在同一阵线，即使阵线上的土地，满布着椒毒魇气，只要对方能幸福，自己愿意当牺牲品。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;在懂得爱人的人心里，这些事，家常便饭，甘之如饴。&lt;br /&gt;听过太多懂爱的人，在深夜里的电话那端诉说着他爱上不懂爱的人之后心中的酸楚，那些痛苦往往能够轻易地透过电话线传递过来，也引起我的心酸。&lt;br /&gt;我说：“那么，你还想继续下去吗?”&lt;br /&gt;电话那头：“这不是想不想的问题。”&lt;br /&gt;我说：“不然呢?”&lt;br /&gt;电话那头：“我只有继续下去这一条路，我别无选择。”&lt;br /&gt;我说：“是爱给的太多吗?”&lt;br /&gt;电话那头：“不，是在她尚未真正幸福之前，我放不下手。”&lt;br /&gt;他痛苦吗？&lt;br /&gt;或许是，但他在痛苦中找到甜蜜。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;因为电话那头的他，有的是人追求，而他的心里，却容不下别人对他的喜欢。&lt;br /&gt;试问，在追求他的人心中，他不也是不懂得爱的人吗?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我觉得痛苦，爱情本身那么简单，为什么有这么多纠缠?&lt;br /&gt;两个人的世界里两个人相爱，别人进不来，不是就没了迷乱？&lt;br /&gt;后来发现爱情不简单，所以难过与遗憾会一直一直存在。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;爱情不简单，所以难过与遗憾会一直一直存在。&lt;br /&gt;我眼看着难过在进行，遗憾在成形，一颗心无渊底般的坠下去，即使没有摔碎，也将不会有原来的晶莹。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;曾經，有個女孩，讓我付出，&lt;br /&gt;直到所有感覺被抽空，像是一根煙燒到了尾末；&lt;br /&gt;曾經，有個女孩，讓我感受，&lt;br /&gt;愛情是完全沒有投資報酬率的東西，&lt;br /&gt;只要能感覺到一絲絲的被愛，&lt;br /&gt;就可以滿足或彌補自己過去的、曾經的那些所有付出；&lt;br /&gt;曾經，有個女孩，讓我體會，&lt;br /&gt;愛上一個人，總是會不自覺的墮落，&lt;br /&gt;幸福儘管遙不可及，卻依然像是海市蜃樓般的接近。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;她說，曾經有個男孩子很愛她，但她卻不知道自己對那個男孩的感覺也是愛，當那個男孩子離開之前對她說「Just Follow your Feeling」的時候，也同時帶走了她最原始的Feeling。&lt;br /&gt;她說，她不碰愛情，是因為自己有太多感情。她說，她總是在不同的環境中，遇到相同的愛情，她總是看著身邊的男孩來來去去，卻無法讓自己為他們停下來。&lt;br /&gt;她說，她不能再一次負荷感情的流逝，那像是參加自己的葬禮，而自己明明想在愛情裡呼吸。 她總是認為，付出了那麼多的感情，換來的必須要是永遠才可以。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;在愛情裡，永遠只有結果來判決你，而不是你去決定結果的判決。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;分手后, 不能做朋友，因为彼此伤害过; 不能做敌人，因为曾经相爱过。 所以我们只能做最熟悉的陌生人......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;每个女孩都是不会哭泣的天使，遇到自己爱的人，流下了眼泪，于是落入凡间。所以男孩千万不要辜负女孩，因为女孩为了你，放弃了整个天堂。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我想我不懂得什么是爱.我不懂得怎么去拥抱一道美丽的彩虹吧. 所以.我总是不能从你柔情似水的眼睛里看见我自己的幸福. 我想我不懂得怎样接受爱.我不懂得去感 受温暖的阳光吧.所以.我总是不能从你那里紧张的眼神里 看 见我的重要. 爱.是什么.我在迷惑.这么多年艰难的在寻找.可是却从没有想去回头问问你什么是爱.因为我确信我自 己能找到.我却不知道.只要我一回头.你就在我身后.轻轻的陪我看细水长流.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我們總是往前看的多，所以經常忘了要回頭。以為背後的風景是看過的，卻忘了天使從不曾走到面前來。因此即使祂在，我們也沒有察覺。許多自以為的道理，有時其實並非如我們所想像，真相大白時，可惜往往是以遺憾收場.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我始终带著你爱的微笑　一路上寻找我遗失的美好　不小心当泪滑落嘴角　就用你握过的手抹掉&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I'm blasting my music so I won't hear my thoughts, but it's stupid, because the lyrics just remind me of what I'm trying to forget.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-1642142116410461414?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/1642142116410461414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/04/music-chinese.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1642142116410461414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/1642142116410461414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/04/music-chinese.html' title='music &amp;amp; chinese?'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-7481080291384743026</id><published>2009-04-15T19:34:00.029+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T02:20:17.225+08:00</updated><title type='text'>my pillars of strength</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;haven't updated for a bloody long time. bah. blogs are such a nuisance to maintain. X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;feeling rather purplish. lol. been busy with all d ungu stuff for sports day. feel lyk an effin bloodsucker these few days from all the yuran-kutiping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;been so overwhelmed with so many things havent been spending enough time with my kakis lately. oh wells~ hope they'll forgive me if i blog about them here. X3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;just a few of my belo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;ved cousins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYabn196FI/AAAAAAAAAEE/MZqsYG51WLc/s1600-h/DSC04390.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324972671266318418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYabn196FI/AAAAAAAAAEE/MZqsYG51WLc/s200/DSC04390.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;yi jing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;closest person to me alive. we can talk about anything, everything. i love spending time with her. but rarely do coz my cousins are mostly in jb. =( i remember the tym when she came over to my house. we talked from 10pm-2am, eat instant noodles, continued talking till 7am. don't ask me what we talk about. coz i reli have no idea. lol. endless amount of things to talk about. my grandma always complain why we even have to talk during meals. done some pretty stewpid, crazy things together. eventhough our lifestyles &amp;amp; interests are not quite similiar, we're just oh-so-compatible. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYZQNTMosI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Fe2D9N564DM/s1600-h/DSC04362.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324971375650972354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYZQNTMosI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Fe2D9N564DM/s200/DSC04362.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;jun hao&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;doing his A-levels in uk now. reli miss him sometimes. a reli sweet guy. he's probably the last living male who's friggin loyal. girl hu gets him is damn lucky. caring. patient. understanding. aiyor.. 1 word that best describes him. THE PERFECT GUY. can't wait till he gets back end of june. yays. look forward to spending time with him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYYHwUiZHI/AAAAAAAAAD0/816ROccvHKw/s1600-h/DSC04189.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324970130921383026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYYHwUiZHI/AAAAAAAAAD0/816ROccvHKw/s200/DSC04189.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;yik ru&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i know she doesn't look like she's 3yrs older than me.. &amp;amp; she sure doesn't act that way either. lol. very nice to be around with. very genuine. since she came to study at the one academy last year, she usually comes over to my hse during weekends to slpover. too bad she's been busy lately. very lonely la without her. supportive. hope she remembers i'll always be there for her too. =) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;the men in my life (my dudettes disguised as dudes)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324967982607338802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYWKtOjjTI/AAAAAAAAADk/iw6GuPKkaww/s200/DSC06343.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;eugene&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;we go wayyy back. my 1st best friend in primary school. we were the two banana kids who sat together during the first day of school in lick hung so we clung onto each other for dear life. frenship passed the test of time. if i ever get married he'd be my best man. lol. he panics &amp;amp; doesnt know what to do when i cry. thank gawd i rarely do in front of ppl. is always supportive &amp;amp; willing to lend a helping hand. misunderstood by those who don't really know him. he's not just a japanese-obsessed, tongue-twisting freak! more than meets the eye, k! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;psst..he turned 17 last thurs. i derived a plan to fatten him up so i baked him a brownie/cake. =D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYWK_F6RWI/AAAAAAAAADs/cksNLeBeno8/s1600-h/DSC06331.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324967987402917218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYWK_F6RWI/AAAAAAAAADs/cksNLeBeno8/s200/DSC06331.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYVBZ0cCoI/AAAAAAAAADc/3xdMAiLuero/s1600-h/RIMG0482.JPG"&gt;*&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324966723267070594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYVBZ0cCoI/AAAAAAAAADc/3xdMAiLuero/s200/RIMG0482.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;em&gt;Karuna&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a total sweetie. knew him in form2 during my 1st day of school in seafield. pretty girl eyes. haha. uber outgoing &amp;amp; friendly. put him in a room full of strangers &amp;amp; leave him there for 5minutes &amp;amp; he'd probably be frens with everyone in the room by then. good singer. really naive in a way. can be such a pushover sometimes cos he's too nice of a person. but if anyone decides to take advantage of him. grr...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYRxbBPrhI/AAAAAAAAADU/0iv5Rh2Hms8/s1600-h/DSC05779.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324963150176431634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYRxbBPrhI/AAAAAAAAADU/0iv5Rh2Hms8/s200/DSC05779.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;jin onn&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;the guy with the highest EQ i know. lol. know him last year. started talking giler alot this year. a softie on the inside. bloody rajin. bloody patient too. i'm surprised his ears are still in tact. always listen to me vent about my real life korean-drama stories (according to him that is). but apparently he likes to subscribe to all the seasons. haha. oh. i forgot to mention he's property of hui ting. X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;yong cheng&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;know him since std one. used to sit next to him in std six. always let me copy his maths homework. teehee. now, still close la. uber lame. trying to steal bobo's title for being the lamest. have alot of inside jokes with him. three fingers. transformers. decepticon. lol! jin onn &amp;amp; me punya inofficial guitar teacher. his hse is our fav lepaking place. always go there for mahjong. &amp;amp; i feel like a proud parent. finally found himself a gf. X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;my koncos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYQRrNjYOI/AAAAAAAAADM/jXGgp9RNhxY/s1600-h/DSC03684.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324961505255579874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYQRrNjYOI/AAAAAAAAADM/jXGgp9RNhxY/s200/DSC03684.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;yepyep. we're a packaged deal. lol. formed in form4. we have a pact that next time whenever one of us gets married, the other 5 have to become the bridesmaid. the bride most make sure the fellow bridesmaid attend even if their halfway around the world. haha. i'll rmb that. jarang go out with all 5 of them coz our schedules are always busy &amp;amp; different! whatever happened to the redbox chiong kay outing we talked about since last year?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYPamC1tmI/AAAAAAAAADE/d1UTxoK5kbU/s1600-h/DSC03680.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324960558975661666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 190px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYPamC1tmI/AAAAAAAAADE/d1UTxoK5kbU/s200/DSC03680.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Jia Min&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;the food buff! lol. knew this qutie here last year when we got into the same class. has a what-u-see-is-what-u-get attitude. straightforward. coming out of her lil conservative shell no thax to other five of us. lol. oh no... corrupted her innocent mind edi. personally think she's got a very strong sense of her own principles. &amp;amp; i mean that in a gd way. =) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYNvSw9tCI/AAAAAAAAAC8/g6nCcRvnqLE/s1600-h/DSC01456.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324958715554411554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYNvSw9tCI/AAAAAAAAAC8/g6nCcRvnqLE/s200/DSC01456.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Kelly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;fuyoh! st. john pres weih. but when u know her true colors... lol. only know her in form4 when we were destined to be in the same cls. so many adjectives to describe her. retarded. sampat. noisy. qute. DIMPLES! etc. we all lurve for her that. giler creative. aww...still remember the time she &amp;amp; xf came over to my hse to help with the band senior's gifts when i was overstressed eventhough they weren't bandies. *sniffs* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYeVR0cmBI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ToslvK39iqs/s1600-h/DSC01950.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324976960321656850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYeVR0cmBI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ToslvK39iqs/s200/DSC01950.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Li Chin&lt;/em&gt; &lt;div align="left"&gt;same class with her when i baru transfer over to seafield in form2. was in band with her. it wasn't until we were in the same form4 cls we got close. hmm...definitely think with her heart more than her head. very fickle-minded. lol. deserves a great guy. =) oh. &amp;amp; we've come to d conclusion we're of the same type. we skydive into that who-knows-whats-at-the-botton pit of love without second thoughts...&amp;amp; no parachute. lol. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYLXzDr9rI/AAAAAAAAACk/30iWb0ko6P0/s1600-h/RIMG0498.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324956112882759346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYLXzDr9rI/AAAAAAAAACk/30iWb0ko6P0/s200/RIMG0498.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Michelle&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;another fren back from primary school. wasn't close to her until we got into the same class in form4. another romantic like me! but has a really out-of-this-world/probably-never-gona-happen expectation when it comes to love in reality. lol. can't blame a girl for dreaming. X3 always supportive. &amp;amp; random at times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYJG9c632I/AAAAAAAAACc/4NUpTsDs_TI/s1600-h/RIMG0566.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324953624591916898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYJG9c632I/AAAAAAAAACc/4NUpTsDs_TI/s200/RIMG0566.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Xiau Fong&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;known this crazy girl since i was std one. always there to do crazy stuff with me. will sampat with me when i'm in the mood. miss the good ol' lick hung days when we used to spend alot of time with each other in std six as prefects. lol. future successful career woman. thinks with her head more often than her heart. zaps me back into reality. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ANYWAY &lt;/span&gt;here's a bunch of random stuff i've seen or done lately...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYIHZq9BFI/AAAAAAAAACU/AOYhq76O6Gw/s1600-h/RIMG0477.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324952532655342674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYIHZq9BFI/AAAAAAAAACU/AOYhq76O6Gw/s200/RIMG0477.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; the look i pulled off last minute when i decided to go leo iu one hr b4 it started X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYG74DHg8I/AAAAAAAAACM/_Ra1oCgrkXE/s1600-h/DSC06416.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324951235139699650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYG74DHg8I/AAAAAAAAACM/_Ra1oCgrkXE/s200/DSC06416.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;walid's uber qute sheep which i'm in love with~&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I'm trying to make you notice me but you don't care You play me like a broken game of Snakes and Ladders Or cards or piano or a record that's been thrown in the trash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I don't wanna save the world I just wanna waste some time with you .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;-Wasting Time by Thirsty Merc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-7481080291384743026?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/7481080291384743026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-pillars-of-strength.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7481080291384743026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/7481080291384743026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-pillars-of-strength.html' title='my pillars of strength'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SeYabn196FI/AAAAAAAAAEE/MZqsYG51WLc/s72-c/DSC04390.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-6711810307717183651</id><published>2009-03-09T14:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T16:14:56.782+08:00</updated><title type='text'>learning from mistakes</title><content type='html'>shoot. disappointed in my feb test. B for chinese &amp;amp; chem. chem was kinda expected. wasn't in the mood so i didn't study for it at all. *sigh* straight As in SPM seems like such a distant, faraway dream. in reality, it's 8mths away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in one of my worrying-too-much-moods. bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess like they say, u learn from mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so what do u do when the mistake is not yours to learn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do u let someone learn from their own mistakes? in other words, shut that hole on ur face, just stand aside &amp;amp; watch someone make that walk down the avoidable, evitable road to heartbreak?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or do u choose to tell the truth that isn't urs to tell? your conscience is itching to let the truth see light. (is it just me, or do i have one helluva annoying conscience?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its not urs to tell but neither urs to keep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so what do u do with this unnecessary burden called the "in the know"? doing the right thing or doing things right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oblivion is bliss. yeap. so true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;momentarily hooked on:&lt;br /&gt;Rule The Show - Take That&lt;br /&gt;100 Years - Five For Fighting&lt;br /&gt;Drops Of Jupiter - Train&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;i'll be your best kept secret &amp;amp; biggest mistake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-6711810307717183651?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/6711810307717183651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/03/learning-from-mistakes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6711810307717183651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/6711810307717183651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/03/learning-from-mistakes.html' title='learning from mistakes'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8369277070845702831.post-3914481472314710130</id><published>2009-03-02T23:00:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T23:37:09.508+08:00</updated><title type='text'>prelude</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308603067039537042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavyXQBw15I/AAAAAAAAABE/OcZeLCLRXbY/s200/DSC05334.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;(2002-2009)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavxjYcuR-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/WsJGNFBZeWY/s1600-h/DSC02119.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308602175946901474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavxjYcuR-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/WsJGNFBZeWY/s200/DSC02119.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Savtgq5TfgI/AAAAAAAAAA0/epO46MEuErE/s1600-h/1_451421492l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308597731312500226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/Savtgq5TfgI/AAAAAAAAAA0/epO46MEuErE/s320/1_451421492l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavrytS4hBI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Tbq6pNi8yQc/s1600-h/4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308595842171044882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavrytS4hBI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Tbq6pNi8yQc/s320/4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;natasha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;020209&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;after school, my dad tells me the vet called up wanting to meet up wif natasha's owners (a.k.a. us). so my sis &amp;amp; mum heads over to UPM all the way in sepang while my dad sends me off to add maths tuiton. i unexpectingly spend the next 1 &amp;amp; a half hour or so absorbing oh-so-wonderful add maths knowledge with my half-dead brain cells. after tuiton, i got into the car. &amp;amp; d first thing my dad said was "bad news." i remember thinking like, "hmm..what's up?".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i wished i didn't have to hear his reply. maybe if he didn't tell me, it wouldn't be real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"they have to put down Natasha."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;u know how time freezes in movies? yeap. it was like that. i felt my stomach make a plunge. my mind went BLANK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;when i opened my mouth, i had to convince myself it was me talking. it felt..so surreal. like an out-of-body experience. "isn't there another way?" i asked. my cheeks were wet. owh, i think i was crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;she was sick since early of november last year. it was heart aching to watch. she would limp, fall, whine, try to get back up, &amp;amp; whine some more. we went to 3 different clinics. spent a few thousand on treatments, diagnosis &amp;amp; boarding. nothing was working. we were referred to the animal hospital(the only one in msia apparently. jeez... msia sucks) which was UPM. when we got there, we were told she had a slipped disc in her spinal cord. the only option was surgery or she could never walk again. we went all out eventhough the operation was gonna burn a hole in our pockets. but we loved her. that was all that matter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;i still remember that the operation went smoothly 2weeks prior to CNY. &amp;amp; i remember visiting her on the thursday the week of CNY. &amp;amp; if i had known that was the last time i was ever going to see her. i would have stayed there &amp;amp; bunked in with her. i would have been with her till the very end.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;forward back before the flashback. my dad replied, "the surgery's not helping. her condition's worsening. she won't be able to move at all in a couple of months. the doctor said the kindest thing to do is to put her to sleep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i cried the entire 10 minute ride home. i was letting the information sink in. well... more like it sorta crashed in. when i got home, i continued crying. when i ate dinner, i was still flowing non-stop. then, i had to suck the tears back in &amp;amp; go to bm tuiton. i messaged the first person who came into mind when i got home. even then, i was still crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i probably...wait, i mean..i sure as hell scared the shyt outa hui ting who was sitting next to me. my expression was&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavW75uuDYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZnLRR5PBSXQ/s1600-h/zombie_by_zilla774.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; probably like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavYXLCYm2I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Fk5S-B02PRc/s1600-h/zombie_by_zilla774.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308574478397643618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavYXLCYm2I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Fk5S-B02PRc/s200/zombie_by_zilla774.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;amp; yea. i just sat next to her. burying myself in the work mr.quek was giving us. &amp;amp; i actually didn't talk for the first time, not at all. i was still thinking about her. my mum &amp;amp; sis were bringing her body home that night. by the time tuiton ended, i would have to go home &amp;amp; face reality. i didn't know whether i could do it. while still msging my emotional support i got one msg saying "u can do it..give her ur final farewell. i don't think she would leave this world without a proper goodbye from u." i instantly broke down in tuiton. well, quietly that is. i was trying to hide my face with my hair but somehow or other hui ting saw. &amp;amp; man..i think she was FREAKED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but i did what my emotional support told me to. i went home &amp;amp; saw her. my mum &amp;amp; sis placed her in our lil prayer room. she looked the same, like she was sleeping. just without the rise &amp;amp; fall of her chest, without her usual snore, without any life within her... i prayed for her. with the tears streaming down from my face, i prayed for her. for her to be in a better place, for her suffering to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;my cousin studying in uk, jun hao, msged me after finding out. i was so touched. the tears came pouring out in gallons after i read his msg. "Dear Angeline. i'm really sorry to hear about ur loss. what i can say is that, she wont need to suffer the pain anymore. all the 7 yrs, u all have given her the best of everything. everybody has to leave us 1 day. try not to be too sad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;my tear ducts were kinda haywire by then. i was like a bursting faucet. i couldn't stop. every1 in my house was asleep by 11pm. but i couldn't. i wouldn't. i was so afraid that, if i fell asleep &amp;amp; woke up, i wouldn't wake up from the nightmare, coz it wasn't a nightmare. it was reality. thank gawd for my emotional support that night. we were on the phone till 3am. u know who u are. a thank u wudnt be suffiecient enough for how much u helped me through that night. but still.. thank u for staying with me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;after the phone call. i went back into the prayer room. &amp;amp; i sat next to her. she looked so serene, so peaceful. i tried not to cry, at least i tried not to make any sounds while i cried. who knows what time i stayed up till. but i did eventually go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;030209&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;i missed school that day. we woke up at 9am to bury her. that was the hardest thing i ever had to do in my nearly 17yrs of existence. my dad dug a hole in front of our hse at the lil garden we had. my mum was praying. my sis &amp;amp; i lowered her into it. she was cold but her body wasn't hard. i couldn't remember i moment when we weren't crying at this lil burial ceremony we were having. den my dad filled up the hole. &amp;amp; that was that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my sis told my bro hu was working in singapore. his reply was "i feel so empty". that pretty much was how we all felt. empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;my emotional support checked in on me after getting back from school. my best fren, eugene, who i had told the nite before, came over with my homework from school that day. guess he told some of my other close frens &amp;amp; helped me explain to d oh-so-freaked-out hui ting. when i checked my homework, the tear ducts got another jolt. xiau fong &amp;amp; kelly had left short msgs of support in the small sheet of paper. jeez.. will the crying ever stop?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;after that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;i sked the shyt out of alot of people. i went to school still looking like how i was when hui ting saw me during bm tuiton. a lot of ppl kept asking whether i was ok, whether i was sick. i felt like wearing a sign that said " stop asking whether i'm ok. coz i'm not". the poor victims of my depression were peobably my close frens. sweet ol' eugene. known him since std1. we may be best frens but i know he doesn't know what to do when i sink into depression mood. so he was always feeling awkward. my koncos in class (a.k.a. kelly, jia min, lichin, michelle, xiau fong) were treating me lyk a box labelled "fragile. handle with care". i think they mistook me for a time bomb that might explode if they made any sudden movements. lol. but i have to agree. i was pretty darn scary. always spacing out, never talking. oh.. i sked d shyt out of jin onn too. coz one time, i started crying in class. usually, i would walk off alone to the toilet to cry when my emotions that i kept inside started to overwhelm me. but sometimes it got out of control. that's saying something. coz i NEVER cry in front of people if i can help it. i hated having people pitying me, feeling sorry for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i couldn't eat either. everytime i looked at food, or even thought about it, i felt like throwing up. which i did quite often especially in d morning. somedays, i only went on water &amp;amp; threw up water just as well. 1 week later, i had alredi lost 2kg. man, i have found my diet plan if i ever planned to lose weight again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;sometimes, breathing hurt too. it was like having a puncture in my lungs. every breath stung.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i used to agree with my cousin, yi jing, probably the closest person to me in my entire lifespan, that breaking up was probably the worst type of pain. we were &lt;strong&gt;dead wrong.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;take the pain of breaking up, multiply it by infinity, &amp;amp; u're nowhere near the pain of losing a loved one. thats what i told people who didn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;some of u may raise an eyebrow &amp;amp; laugh. it's just a dog u may think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;no. it's not just a dog. she was, to me, family. 7yrs, she gave my family boundless joy, unconditional love &amp;amp; undivided loyalty. i miss not having a furry brown magnet following me around as i pace through the now empty house; i miss not having her go into crazy-maddening-exhilarating-excitement mood when i get back from school; i miss not having her clutch to me with her life during thunderstorms; i miss her when she licks my face whenever i cry (or when i fake crying); i miss everything about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i used to be so ultimately sure that i was going into veterinary right after high school. i LOVED animals. ever since i could remember. to the extreme that when i was just about to turn 3, i told my mum i wanted to become a vegetarian because i didn't want to hurt the poor animals. i still am a vegetarian till this day, fyi. X3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm not so sure now. i don't think i can ever watch an animal, a life, end right in front of my eyes. or having to put down an animal in order to end it's pain &amp;amp; suffering. i don't think i have the emotional strength to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but every few days. i go to the spot where we buried her. even when her life ended, she brought new life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;somedays are just better then some; somedays are just worse off. i'm never going to be "ok". because i'm never going to forget her. i will never let myself forget her. some1 said to me "maybe God wanted her more". i don't know about that, but i know she's in a better place. she'll alway stay in my heart. my love for her will be undying, just like how she loved us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;"We're meant to lose the people we love. How else would we know how important they are to us?" -The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8369277070845702831-3914481472314710130?l=dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/feeds/3914481472314710130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/03/prelude.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3914481472314710130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8369277070845702831/posts/default/3914481472314710130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dyingtoexplainmyhearttou.blogspot.com/2009/03/prelude.html' title='prelude'/><author><name>Angeline Low</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342597755108891514</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PTrE_BPwOcU/SavyXQBw15I/AAAAAAAAABE/OcZeLCLRXbY/s72-c/DSC05334.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
