<?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-8884618760231088594</id><updated>2012-02-12T09:40:48.155-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the walls are so high that i couldn't climb.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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>79</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884618760231088594.post-5083399716261800104</id><published>2012-02-12T09:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-12T09:40:48.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got issues</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was my dad's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;Valentine's day is Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;I told Jamal to be my valentine.&lt;br /&gt;I really do like him, I think.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't want a boyfriend, so even if he liked me back, I'm wasting my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking last night and I realized that I'm scared of any kind of commitment. I don't want to get close to anybody that I'm not already close to. I lost Tanner. I lost RJ. I lost Morgan. People I thought I'd always be friends with. Every girl I hung out with in middle school. Lost them too.&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to hang out with Lindsay last Saturday. She ditched me. Then I remembered why I can't stand girls.&lt;br /&gt;Broderick's gone. Lost him too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't handle change well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to the beach next weekend with Cici. I'm hoping to get my mind off things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5083399716261800104?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5083399716261800104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2012/02/ive-got-issues.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5083399716261800104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5083399716261800104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2012/02/ive-got-issues.html' title='I&apos;ve got issues'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6010293505097222687</id><published>2012-01-23T17:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T17:31:14.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Homework &lt; Blogging</title><content type='html'>So Jamal came to my house one night and kissed me. Things were going great, and then I went to church came. I rededicated myself and tried to break things off with him. I met this kid from Evans, and he is perfect. But we haven't even talked since camp. And now I miss Jamal. We argued yesterday. I told him to call me or text me when he knows what he wants. Hell I don't even know what I want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6010293505097222687?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6010293505097222687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2012/01/homework-blogging.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6010293505097222687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6010293505097222687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2012/01/homework-blogging.html' title='Homework &lt; Blogging'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4446074509546775651</id><published>2011-12-30T11:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T11:11:02.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh yeah</title><content type='html'>And I talked to Tate about weed and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;He is letting me do what I want.&lt;br /&gt;...from a distance.&lt;br /&gt;I think he is avoiding me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4446074509546775651?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4446074509546775651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/oh-yeah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4446074509546775651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4446074509546775651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/oh-yeah.html' title='Oh yeah'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-3860185897381393393</id><published>2011-12-30T11:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T11:08:06.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh,</title><content type='html'>And Jamal likes me.&lt;br /&gt;Crazy ish right dere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-3860185897381393393?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/3860185897381393393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/oh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3860185897381393393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3860185897381393393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/oh.html' title='Oh,'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1411048991439429132</id><published>2011-12-30T11:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T11:07:44.271-05:00</updated><title type='text'>welp.</title><content type='html'>We smoked.&lt;br /&gt;Got high.&lt;br /&gt;High as fuck.&lt;br /&gt;In my room.&lt;br /&gt;Whutduhfack.&lt;br /&gt;It was crazy, really.&lt;br /&gt;We smoked in the bathroom out of like a homemade bong.&lt;br /&gt;It worked really well.&lt;br /&gt;When I think about it I get sick to my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;My parents were right downstairs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1411048991439429132?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1411048991439429132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/welp.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1411048991439429132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1411048991439429132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/welp.html' title='welp.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-8720076710689423328</id><published>2011-12-28T14:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T14:03:07.199-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready for the New Year.</title><content type='html'>Yet another year without a New Year's kiss, I believe...&lt;br /&gt;Christmas was good.&lt;br /&gt;Broderick has a girlfriend. I'm giving up on him. We have no future. I have to accept that. He's moving. I have no chance.&lt;br /&gt;Baylie's spending the night tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to be getting some weed from Caleb today.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so paranoid already. This is the first time that I have my own weed, in my house. I decided to put it in my Beats case, and then put that in a sock at the back of my sock drawer. I think thats safe, and I'm not afraid about them finding it. I'm afraid that they will catch me and Baylie smoking. But I think I've got it planned out. We're gonna wait about an hour after my parents go to bed, maybe longer, so we KNOW they are asleep. Then we are going to open a window and turn on the fan, and its going to be SO cold but whatever, and we'll stand by the window when we smoke. We'll make a home made bowl from a water bottle, which I did not get high from last time I smoked, probably because it was shitty, shitty weed. Whatever. We'll see what happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-8720076710689423328?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/8720076710689423328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/ready-for-new-year.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8720076710689423328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8720076710689423328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/ready-for-new-year.html' title='Ready for the New Year.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5803717767591600114</id><published>2011-12-28T13:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T13:59:31.591-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've decided what I believe.</title><content type='html'>I do believe in God and Jesus and stuff, and I believe in what the bible says about history. All the history in the bible, I believe is true. But I do no believe that we should live by the bible. Yes, we should be good people, we should obey our parents, be nice to other, all that stuff, but I think we should live the way we want to live. Its our decision whether or not we drink alcohol, smoke weed, smoke cigarettes, steal things, lie, etc. Our perception of what is right and what is wrong is up to us. I definitely believe in heaven and hell, but I am not sure yet what determines where we go. But I do believe in life after death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5803717767591600114?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5803717767591600114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/ive-decided-what-i-believe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5803717767591600114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5803717767591600114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/ive-decided-what-i-believe.html' title='I&apos;ve decided what I believe.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2356454138617592372</id><published>2011-12-18T17:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T17:04:11.249-05:00</updated><title type='text'>what a dayy.</title><content type='html'>Today did not go as planned, it went even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran errands with my dad this morning, and on the way home Broderick texted me and asked me to go hang out with him and Caleb. So I did.&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I'm still burping out the taste of cannabis.&lt;br /&gt;I smoked out of a blunt for the first time. It was so strong, and burned to bad, even my tongue felt like it was on fire, and I just coughed a bunch.&lt;br /&gt;It was grandaddy purple, and ahh that weed was just great.&lt;br /&gt;I felt like I was starting to like Broderick again.&lt;br /&gt;I can't let that happen.&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;Nooooope.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways though I didn't get high.. Just got a little buzz... yeah. OH well though, hopefully I'm gonna have plenty more oppurtunities before he moves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2356454138617592372?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2356454138617592372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-dayy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2356454138617592372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2356454138617592372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-dayy.html' title='what a dayy.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-312989469508788424</id><published>2011-12-17T18:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T18:05:16.771-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This ish cray.</title><content type='html'>This time last year, me and Morgan were innocent little best friends. I was going out with Jonathan and she was going out with Tyler... There was a certain time about this time in December when we were soo nervous to go to the movies and have our first kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss that, I really do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-312989469508788424?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/312989469508788424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/this-ish-cray.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/312989469508788424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/312989469508788424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/this-ish-cray.html' title='This ish cray.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-945289010501176327</id><published>2011-12-17T18:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T18:00:46.867-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dayyummm.</title><content type='html'>Kay well its been too long.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even gonna bother catching up.&lt;br /&gt;Basically though, I don't really talk to Broderick that much. We're supposed to hang Monday, but it will probably get cancelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamal's coming back soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went ice skating today. Its the first day of Christmas break.&lt;br /&gt;My niece is sleeping next to me. I really need to clean my room. Then I'm gonna do my eyebrows, shower, shave, maybe a read a little, and just try to have a productive evening, and go to sleep at a decent time. I want to start waking up at 7, eating, walking my dogs, and just getting a good, early start on my day. I feel like I would be a lot happier. I also want to start getting fit and in shape, and eat healthy and stuff. Sounds guuud 2 meh. Thats what I'm going to focus on. Getting in shape, eating healthy, and just being happy. And then when school starts again, I'll focus on those things as well as grades. Yeah. I just want to be really confident and happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-945289010501176327?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/945289010501176327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/dayyummm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/945289010501176327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/945289010501176327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/12/dayyummm.html' title='Dayyummm.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6430833362844988075</id><published>2011-10-04T21:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T21:14:40.784-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I should have known you weren't any different</title><content type='html'>Monday&lt;br /&gt;Me (5:52): Okay so I might just be paranoid and I'm probably about to make a complete fool out of myself, but it seems like it got weird after Friday, maybe its just me. I don't know, it just seems like you've lost interest?&lt;br /&gt;BS: Noo babe, I just, I don't know what I want.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well I know I don't want to be friends with benefits, because it was definitely a mistake with TE and I"m not doing that again..&lt;br /&gt;BS: I knoww, in a way I wanna go out but I'm not sure&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well I'm impatient and I am getting kinda tired of waiting, sooo you can just let me know when you figure it out.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Alright babe, well you wanna date me right?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well obviously, but don't just do it because you can.&lt;br /&gt;BS: I know I know.&lt;br /&gt;BS (7:48): Hey babe&lt;br /&gt;BS (8:06): Meatballs &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Me (8:58): Go eat your meatballs. (:&lt;br /&gt;BS: Pssh them meatballs are gone now ahaha&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ahaha, nicee.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Haha yeah wrud&lt;br /&gt;BS: Why are yoou not texting me back this evening&lt;br /&gt;Me: I dunnoo&lt;br /&gt;Me: Blahh broderickkk&lt;br /&gt;BS: waaat&lt;br /&gt;BS: Kirstennnnn&lt;br /&gt;BS (10:30): Hey!&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday&lt;br /&gt;Me: Haha, sooo.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Sooooooo I really can't make up my mind&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well I don't think you should do anything you aren't sure of, so should we just drop it ?&lt;br /&gt;BS: I guess, but I am still thinking&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don't exactly wanna wait&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Its fine&lt;br /&gt;Me (6:10): Broderick&lt;br /&gt;BS (8:03): Kirsten&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6430833362844988075?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6430833362844988075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-should-have-known-you-werent-any.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6430833362844988075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6430833362844988075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-should-have-known-you-werent-any.html' title='I should have known you weren&apos;t any different'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2778724007909394853</id><published>2011-10-01T19:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T19:16:14.591-04:00</updated><title type='text'>what a night</title><content type='html'>I like to think that I'm getting better,&lt;br /&gt;but I think I'm just getting worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a football game last night.&lt;br /&gt;BS told me to come over. So I left at half time and went to his house. His little brother was asleep and his parents were gone. I got there, he came outside and hugged me, and then we went up to his room. He turned his TV on, kissed me a little, and then we went to his bed. He turned off the lights because I wanted to "see the stars on his ceiling" and we ended up making out more. We snuggled a little&amp;nbsp;bit. Then he put his hand on my stomach and asked me if his hands were cold. I laughed and said yes, and he slowly slid his hand down my pants, and fingered me. He's the best one yet. We made out some more, and then snuggled some more. I could tell he wanted a blow job, so I said I was sorry. He was like "Now what?" And I was just silent, awkwardly. Then he put his hand back and said "How about this again?" That was fine with me. Afterwards, he told me how horny he was. I felt really bad. We talked about it after I left, and I explained why I didn't blow him. I just couldn't. &lt;br /&gt;And ever since, he's been acting weird.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I did, but I think he lost interest.&lt;br /&gt;CD likes me.&lt;br /&gt;And I think LH does too.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to cry right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2778724007909394853?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2778724007909394853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2778724007909394853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2778724007909394853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-night.html' title='what a night'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6288845054640891504</id><published>2011-10-01T19:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T19:08:45.263-04:00</updated><title type='text'>well.</title><content type='html'>My attempt at being more independent has completely failed.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot do this anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I'm stuck in this forest of stupidity and weakness.&lt;br /&gt;I can't find the way out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6288845054640891504?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6288845054640891504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/well.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6288845054640891504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6288845054640891504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/well.html' title='well.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-620554656688590358</id><published>2011-10-01T10:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T10:18:31.631-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm losing myself</title><content type='html'>I had to prove to myself that I am capable of controlling myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't I just stay at the game?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm losing my sanity&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-620554656688590358?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/620554656688590358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-losing-myself.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/620554656688590358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/620554656688590358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-losing-myself.html' title='I&apos;m losing myself'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6815144737348075580</id><published>2011-09-28T17:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T17:13:16.860-04:00</updated><title type='text'>But on a positive note..</title><content type='html'>Things I'm excited for:&lt;br /&gt;My birthday&lt;br /&gt;My Vibram Five Fingers&lt;br /&gt;Hoody weather&lt;br /&gt;Ice skating&lt;br /&gt;Haunted houses&lt;br /&gt;Carving pumpkins&lt;br /&gt;Halloween&lt;br /&gt;Sweaters&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving&lt;br /&gt;Christmas trees&lt;br /&gt;Christmas&lt;br /&gt;Hot chocolate&lt;br /&gt;The fair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I love:&lt;br /&gt;I love my dogs&lt;br /&gt;I love night time&lt;br /&gt;I love early mornings&lt;br /&gt;I love Disney movies&lt;br /&gt;I love rain&lt;br /&gt;I love Nike shorts&lt;br /&gt;I love deep talks about life&lt;br /&gt;I love meeting new people&lt;br /&gt;I love long car rides&lt;br /&gt;I love music&lt;br /&gt;I love blue eyes&lt;br /&gt;I love laughing&lt;br /&gt;I love drinking water&lt;br /&gt;I love pictures&lt;br /&gt;I love Organix shampoo&lt;br /&gt;I love mangoes&lt;br /&gt;I love comfortable shoes&lt;br /&gt;I love sweatpants&lt;br /&gt;I love winter&lt;br /&gt;I love traveling&lt;br /&gt;I love scrubs&lt;br /&gt;I love shopping&lt;br /&gt;I love new jeans&lt;br /&gt;I love good causes, like Toms&lt;br /&gt;I love forever 21&lt;br /&gt;I love kid Cudi&lt;br /&gt;I love going downtown&lt;br /&gt;I love fair rides&lt;br /&gt;I love going to the zoo&lt;br /&gt;I love the tiny shops on the beach&lt;br /&gt;I love open houses&lt;br /&gt;I love good hugs&lt;br /&gt;I love socks&lt;br /&gt;I love smoothies&lt;br /&gt;I love St. Augustine, and all of Florida&lt;br /&gt;I love water slides&lt;br /&gt;I love space mountain&lt;br /&gt;I love my family&lt;br /&gt;I love when babies laugh&lt;br /&gt;I love Harry potter&lt;br /&gt;I love pretending&lt;br /&gt;I love wishing&lt;br /&gt;I love running alone&lt;br /&gt;I love memories&lt;br /&gt;I love adventures&lt;br /&gt;I love new things&lt;br /&gt;I love being me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6815144737348075580?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6815144737348075580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/but-on-positive-note.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6815144737348075580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6815144737348075580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/but-on-positive-note.html' title='But on a positive note..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-8947331054984491573</id><published>2011-09-28T16:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T16:59:58.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I feel like being a negative Nancy.</title><content type='html'>Things I'm scared of:&lt;br /&gt;MEP&lt;br /&gt;Failing&lt;br /&gt;People finding out about the weed&lt;br /&gt;Being alone with BS&lt;br /&gt;Losing the few friends I have&lt;br /&gt;And mostly-&lt;br /&gt;See you at the pole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I hate:&lt;br /&gt;I hate trashy girls&lt;br /&gt;I hate being tired&lt;br /&gt;I hate sweet tea&lt;br /&gt;I hate girls who think they are ugly or fat&lt;br /&gt;I hate boys who judge&lt;br /&gt;I hate bullies&lt;br /&gt;I hate the thought of getting old&lt;br /&gt;I hate how much I lie&lt;br /&gt;I hate how we are all hypocrites&lt;br /&gt;I hate writing&lt;br /&gt;I hate government&lt;br /&gt;I hate waking up late&lt;br /&gt;I hate lady gaga&lt;br /&gt;I hate my math teacher&lt;br /&gt;I hate rude girls&lt;br /&gt;I hate TE and CF&lt;br /&gt;I hate secrets&lt;br /&gt;I hate rumors&lt;br /&gt;I hate lies&lt;br /&gt;I hate when people who call ME a whore or a slut while I'm standing right there. Wtf get some manners and some common sense bitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-8947331054984491573?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/8947331054984491573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/sometimes-i-feel-like-being-negative.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8947331054984491573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8947331054984491573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/sometimes-i-feel-like-being-negative.html' title='Sometimes I feel like being a negative Nancy.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6511166904183919805</id><published>2011-09-28T16:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T16:48:59.278-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls are bitches</title><content type='html'>So I'm laying in bed, eating Swedish fish, listening to Lil Wayne and Kid Cudi, drinking water, trying to figure out when I should do my homework. I wanted to go to sleep at 8, but see you at the pole is from 6 30 to 8 30, so there's no point in even trying to go to sleep at a decent time. I don't know how things with Bs are going but I hope it works out. We'll see I guess. Buddy club was today, we square danced which was fun. I'm starting to miss having a best friend. I feel like I am on my own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6511166904183919805?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6511166904183919805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/girls-are-bitches.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6511166904183919805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6511166904183919805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/girls-are-bitches.html' title='Girls are bitches'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-3182555605747274536</id><published>2011-09-24T14:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T14:14:06.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ask me out damnit.</title><content type='html'>So last Sunday, me and bs and ml and sg were hanging out. We went to ep's house and ml doesn't smoke and won't let sg, so the rest of us did. I only got a little buzz so I don't even count it. But bs kept kissing me, and we went downstairs to get a drink and we madeout. He says I'm an awesome kisser, so that's good :) I really like him a lot. I told him that Thursday, and he said "sadly you don't want a boyfriend" so I felt like a complete bitch. But then I told him I change my mind, so now im jut waiting. Last night, I was with sg and bs and ep and we got some more weed and walked by the powerlines and sat down and smoked it. We got really high again, and we just walked aroundand stuff. Me and bs were holding hands the whole time. I had a lot of fun, more than I did the first time. They had to go so I went to Ifs house. Bs hugged and kissed me before I left. He makes me so nervous. When we were walking away, if and sg kept telling him to just ask me out. But he didnt. Idk. &lt;br /&gt;Anyways om and tm were at Ifs. They asked if we smoked. I convinced if I took one hit, and told tm and om that they asked me to but I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;BMs is like a druggie all the sudden. Idk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-3182555605747274536?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/3182555605747274536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/ask-me-out-damnit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3182555605747274536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3182555605747274536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/ask-me-out-damnit.html' title='Ask me out damnit.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2492832017711926376</id><published>2011-09-19T16:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T16:46:48.803-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't like this.</title><content type='html'>TM: Still love you. Just a dumb thing to waste your life on. Don't let it.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I won't.&lt;br /&gt;TM: For real. You have no business doint it. You're a lot better than that.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ahh, stop making me feel bad.&lt;br /&gt;TM: Not trying. Just trying to make you snap out of it.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I was never snapped into it. I know its bad, I was curious. Yes I will admit, after the first ten minutes, it was fun and I did like it. But I'm not doing it again.&lt;br /&gt;TM: Curiosity is dumb first of all. After ten minutes?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah, at first I ahted how it felt. Its really hard to explain. And curiosity isn't THAT dumb. I wouldn't have done it if it was like, physically harmful to me. I'm not that retarded.&lt;br /&gt;TM: It is physically harmful?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Not its not?&lt;br /&gt;TM: Yeah it is.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Haha I'm not going to argue with you about proben faccts that don't even matter because I'm not doing it again.&lt;br /&gt;TM:&amp;nbsp;You're really thick sometiems. Maybe not once it isn't. But after a while. You start depending on it to feel good. Ask GJ.&lt;br /&gt;Me: If by some crazy chance it became a normal thing for me, it still wouldn't be that often, becaues I'd have no way to get it unless I was with people, and I'd have to be with them for at least like three hours. Its expensive and I have no money. Not to mention I'm to scared to but it from anyone. I did it once, I told you I'm not going to do it again, so I don't understand what point you are trying to get across. I've screwed up a lot before, I know what I'm capable of handling emotionally/mentally, trust me. I can decide for myself, I know how to make good decisions, even if I get curious sometimes. I'm not going to do it again. I was just having fun. One time. And now that my curiosity is out of the way, its not going to happen again.&lt;br /&gt;TM: Okay.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Love you.&lt;br /&gt;TM: You too.&lt;br /&gt;TM: So wrud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HA, I'm not replying to that ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2492832017711926376?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2492832017711926376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-dont-like-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2492832017711926376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2492832017711926376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-dont-like-this.html' title='I don&apos;t like this.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4607921596376192184</id><published>2011-09-17T23:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-17T23:03:03.335-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Please don't interupt my partyyyy</title><content type='html'>Okay,&lt;br /&gt;so much has changed since the last time I wrote a legit post.&lt;br /&gt;Me and BS had a thing, since like&amp;nbsp;the first weekend of school. It was pretty off and on though, and we were constantly trying to hang out and then yesterday we FINALLY did.&lt;br /&gt;I went over to his house a little before four, and SG and IF were there. They started talking about getting weed. I started thinking and I DID want to know what it felt like to get&amp;nbsp;high, and I wouldn't see my parents until after the football. So I had about six hours. It was perfect. Some seniors brought us the weed, IF paid. It was 1.6 grams aaand a bowl. IF had to go, so once he left, we walked in the wood and sat down in a little clear spot. It was the first time I'd used a bowl. And it was amazing. My throat burned so bad though, and I couldn't stop coughing. We were sitting in a circle, playing kid cudi, it was great. SG kept saying stuff like "You're really cool" and "I wish all girls were like you!" Then they started talking about how high they were, and I still wasn't fill anything. I kept getting the first hits, and I was started to get soo pissed that I wasn't high. But then we started walking out of the woods to go to the football field, and BS started holding my hand, and I didn't really care. Then I looked down at the straw I was walking on, and there was&amp;nbsp;little cities, and I was the giant.&amp;nbsp;I don't remember anything about walking across the street, and then all the sudden everything was kind of slanted. Every ten seconds, I was remember I was high, and I would get so scared. It felt like I was in a movie. I didn't like it, at all. I got so scared I was going to get in trouble. That was going on all the way to the field, every fucking ten seconds. It was hard as shit to carry on a conversation. Anyways, I don't even remember if we were holding hands or not, but SG asked me and BS if we were dating yet, and BS was like "I dunno, are you my girlfriend?" and I just said yes. It wasn't like "Oh, that doesn't seem like&amp;nbsp;a bad idea" it was like "dang, thats a really good idea" But after it came out of my mouth, I realized I was high and I was going to regret saying that. Anyways, once we got to the field, we started talking to Andrea. My mouth got so dry at that point, it was insane. Forgetting and remembering everything started happening less frequently when I was standing still, so I tried not to walk alot. I don't remember alot, but I kept talking to people. It felt like a test, trying to focus and maintain a conversation so they wouldn't know. I started to have fun- a LOT of fun. The lady I bought a fanta from was like from willy wonka, I swear. Anyways, me and broderick half cuddled because I kept remembering it was a bad idea. Once the high was gone, I kind of ditched him and didn't come back. I could tell I really pissed him off, and I felt bad. I left at the third quarter and I went to go give him his hoody, and when I gave him a hug to leave, he kissed me. And man it was kind of great. I toold him last night through text that I didn't know what I was talking about when I said yes to him, and I was completely out of it. We're good now and we've been texting a lot, but I still feel bad. We might hang out tomorrow. I'm excited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4607921596376192184?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4607921596376192184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/please-dont-interupt-my-partyyyy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4607921596376192184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4607921596376192184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/09/please-dont-interupt-my-partyyyy.html' title='Please don&apos;t interupt my partyyyy'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7685854473776311600</id><published>2011-08-28T10:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T10:36:16.749-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gajdndkdkde</title><content type='html'>So I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, a little too much. I'm at my dads right now but I plan on spending my night at moms typing up a big long post. Of course I've said that before and when I go to do it, I'm too embarrassed to really show my feelings. But I will tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7685854473776311600?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7685854473776311600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/gajdndkdkde.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7685854473776311600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7685854473776311600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/gajdndkdkde.html' title='Gajdndkdkde'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2570223713921943434</id><published>2011-08-15T22:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T22:12:28.416-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I always fucking want what I can't fucking have.</title><content type='html'>Fuck this Michael.&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;I do.&lt;br /&gt;Finallly.&lt;br /&gt;I'm saying it.&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;I need you.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't deserve you.&lt;br /&gt;So go off and live the fairy tale romance with Baylie that you deserve.&lt;br /&gt;She didn't fuck up her life with some guy that didn't care about her.&lt;br /&gt;She's fucking perfect.&lt;br /&gt;And she's got boobs.&lt;br /&gt;You love those.&lt;br /&gt;She's unique,&lt;br /&gt;she isn't like every other fucking girl in Georgia.&lt;br /&gt;I care too much what people think.&lt;br /&gt;Why the hell would you still like me?&lt;br /&gt;I'm too fucked up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2570223713921943434?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2570223713921943434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-always-fucking-want-what-i-cant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2570223713921943434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2570223713921943434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-always-fucking-want-what-i-cant.html' title='I always fucking want what I can&apos;t fucking have.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4858942538965159061</id><published>2011-08-15T21:35:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T21:43:39.875-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Well I'm stuck in rewind, though I'm looking forward. Damn I wish I knew what went wrong.</title><content type='html'>I'm going to start posting more often so that when I do post, I won't have as much to say. But I do. I have a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is great. The first day sucked because of just everything, but it has definitely gotten better.&lt;br /&gt;Theres this kid MM in my first period, and I've only talked to him like once, but he seems pretty cool, and he's reaaaaally attractive. Then in biology I have a ton of people I don't knoww, third with WC in front of me (SCOREEE.), fourth with sophomores, but they're pretty cool. RB was scary at first, but she's pretty cool. I met TG at lunch, shes cool. Fifth is fun. Then gym.. Theres this kid SR. I think he's wonderful, we've only talked a couple times but he is really... charming, as cheezy as that sounds.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways.&lt;br /&gt;Friday was a football game, nothing interesting happened.&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night,my parents friends came over. They are TE's neighbros, they talked about what&amp;nbsp;a good kid he is.. Awkward. Then late that night&amp;nbsp;I passed out.. GAhhhhh. Then&amp;nbsp;I stayed at MP's. TE, CB, CA, and RM came over at like midnight? I think me and TE are.. I don't even know. I hate him for the whole brown thrasher hting..&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we hung out with BS and IF.... I think I like BS. We were tesxting last ngiht, and he told me I deserved better than TE, and that I was preetty cute.. thennn...&lt;br /&gt;BS: Could you see us together?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Possiblyyy&lt;br /&gt;BS: Cooool, your turn.&lt;br /&gt;ME: Since you know about me, how far have you gone with a girll?&lt;br /&gt;BS: I've gotten a bj, and fingered a girl&lt;br /&gt;Me: OHhh haha.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Haha yepp, umm would you ever do anything with me?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeahh. Haha. It kinda depends on the situation, but I'm pretty sure I would.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Awesooome, I totally wanted to kiss you today.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Haha I totally would ahve kissed you abck! Especially when we were under that bridge thing.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Haha ohh I know that wouldd have been perfect, haha your turn&lt;br /&gt;Me: HOw many girls have you fingered?&lt;br /&gt;BS: two.&lt;br /&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp; OHhh haa&lt;br /&gt;BS: Yeah haha, if we were to hang next time and we were alone, would you wanna do anything?&lt;br /&gt;Me: If you wanted to, then yeahh.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Cooool:) your turn.&lt;br /&gt;Me: HOw many bjs have you gottennn?&lt;br /&gt;BS: Haha idkk like three, same person wanna make it four? hahah jk&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hahah funny(:&lt;br /&gt;BS: :) How many bjs have you given?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Three, same personnn haha.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Haha ohh alright. Your turnn&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don't knoww I'm running out of questionnss haha.&lt;br /&gt;BS: Hah yeahh me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't ever date him, and that fact keeps coming up in my head.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know waht to do I'm so stuck I hate this I hate this I hate this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4858942538965159061?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4858942538965159061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/well-im-stuck-in-rewind-though-im.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4858942538965159061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4858942538965159061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/well-im-stuck-in-rewind-though-im.html' title='Well I&apos;m stuck in rewind, though I&apos;m looking forward. Damn I wish I knew what went wrong.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7396136191167978268</id><published>2011-08-03T12:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T12:34:25.463-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I haven't posted much and I lot has changed.</title><content type='html'>School in five days, and I'm terrified.&lt;br /&gt;RM lied and told me he got and trouble and our date (we had planning it for a month) was off. The next day he lied and said he had a girlfriend. I bawled. Now he says they aren't dating yet, but I'm done with his shit. Or I'm trying to be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried so hard last night, I had to make myself stop because I was about to throw up. I've neverrr cried that hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate who I am, I'm never meant it more than I do now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7396136191167978268?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7396136191167978268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-havent-posted-much-and-i-lot-has.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7396136191167978268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7396136191167978268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-havent-posted-much-and-i-lot-has.html' title='I haven&apos;t posted much and I lot has changed.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7778808291985534989</id><published>2011-07-21T22:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T22:14:19.980-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wowwww haven't been on in a while.</title><content type='html'>Me and RM are really good friends now, we might go to a movie tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and MM rarely talk now, we used to talk everyday.&lt;br /&gt;Its painful to talk to him now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told LO that I was sorry if I ever came off as rude. She said "I forgive and forget." I hope she doesn't expect me to do the same thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents are seperated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to cry, all the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7778808291985534989?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7778808291985534989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/wowwww-havent-been-on-in-while.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7778808291985534989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7778808291985534989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/wowwww-havent-been-on-in-while.html' title='Wowwww haven&apos;t been on in a while.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-977791137636670603</id><published>2011-07-07T11:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T11:13:18.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Everytime I think it can't get worse, it does...</title><content type='html'>"When I saw you, I was afraid to meet you. When I met you, I was afraid to like you. When I liked you, I was afraid to kiss you. When I kissed you, I was afraid to love you. Now that I love you, I'm scared I'll lose you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love RM. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm beginning to think I'm in love with MM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what it feels like to be in love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know that the reason I ended things with him was because I didn't want to hurt him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never cared about anyone so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was up bawling from 1 AM to 3 AM last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey. So I've been thinking for like the past hour, and I can't let anything happen between us. I'm really sorry. It evventually wouldn't work out (nothing ever does), and I can't risk losing you as a friend. I'm not over RM, at all.&amp;nbsp;I thought I was and I tried to tell myself I was because honestly, I know I'm better off with you. I've been kind of unsure about it since when you told me how you felt, and I'm incredibly sorry if I led you on. I do like you though, don't get me wrong, but ever since all that stuff happened, I've just been really fucked up. I've been wanting all the wrong things, if that makes sense. This all probably sounds so cheesy because I'm half aslepe, but I do mean all of it. I really hope more than anything that this doesn't change how close we are, because I really do love you, and I still think and always will think that you are the most amazing person I've ever met. Theres always going to be a part of me that likes you (there always has been) but like I said, I'm really fucked up. I just don't feel like the same person I used to be. I'm confused about eeverything. I don't want anything to happen between us because I do not want to hurt you. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;MM: I'm always here to help, but of course, you already know that (:&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah. I know (:&lt;br /&gt;MM: Can't sleep. Wanna talk about it?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sure, but I don't have much to say, so you go.&lt;br /&gt;MM: Yeah obviously.. (: That was a really long message.&lt;br /&gt;Me: (:&lt;br /&gt;MM: Okay. I wanna start with the stuff. When you first told me, I was crushed. I was so crushed because you're like my little sister (even though you're older) and I would do anything to protect you and the thought of him hurting you would get me so angry and so upset to the point where I just built up this huge and deep resentment toward him.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I understand that... But I don't blame it all on him. We both agreed before anything happened that he wouldn't pressure me to do anything... And he didn't. It was completely and totally up to me. It was my mistake, and I take full responsibility for it.&lt;br /&gt;MM: I know, but all the stuff after is his fault.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah, but if it wasn't for everything after, I wouldn't have learned from it. I'd probably still be doing it with someone else. Don't get me wrong though, I hate him for it.&lt;br /&gt;MM: When you started dating RM, I felt better because I knew he was a nice guy, and that you found someone you actually like. And if you have feelings for him still you should definitely go for him(: And if you don't want anything to happen between us thats totally fine. And in all honesty, you're not the only girl I have strong feelings for.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm not going after him, he doesn't like me. And really?&lt;br /&gt;MM: Really. In fact, she was the one that convinced me to tell you how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh dang. Haha. Who?&lt;br /&gt;MM: BS. I've spent the last few days thinking. Her and I are sooo much alike in every single way imaginable, and after I told you how I felt, she told me how she felt. And I absolutely felt awful. Because she was the one who told me to tell you how i felt.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Aww(: You and her are cute(:&lt;br /&gt;MM: Thanks(: Hey I'm sick right now and I need to get somme sleep. We'll hang out soon (:&lt;br /&gt;Me: Okay, goodnight (:&lt;br /&gt;Me: I know you need to sleep but now I can't. I just have one thing left to say. I am terrified of losing you, or not being as close to you anymore. Lately we've already been drifting..&lt;br /&gt;MM: I can tell. I would rather have you close to me than sleep. So lets talk more.&lt;br /&gt;Me; I'm not happy with my life anymore, or anything about it. I feel like I used to be constantly happy, but now its just fake or for the wrong reasons. I'm bawling my eyes out right now, I feel like i'm constantly getting something else to be upset about. i'm begining to hate my life, and I know I've said that before but I haven't ever meant it like this.&lt;br /&gt;MM: You shouldn't hate your life, everything happens for a reason, and it may not seem like it now but it will get better. I'm feeling the same way, I sometimes cry myself to sleep at night. But its healthy, it lets you drain all those bottled emotions so&amp;nbsp;they don't become repressed memories, and those are bad. I know first hand.&lt;br /&gt;Then he started sending me FMLs, saying those help.&lt;br /&gt;They didn't.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like throwing up, maybe that will make me feel better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-977791137636670603?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/977791137636670603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/everytime-i-think-it-cant-get-worse-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/977791137636670603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/977791137636670603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/everytime-i-think-it-cant-get-worse-it.html' title='Everytime I think it can&apos;t get worse, it does...'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7009261387775367988</id><published>2011-07-07T02:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T02:34:07.981-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Love hurts...</title><content type='html'>Worst night of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't sleep no matter how hard I try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7009261387775367988?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7009261387775367988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/love-hurts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7009261387775367988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7009261387775367988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/love-hurts.html' title='Love hurts...'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-8371509617907774852</id><published>2011-07-05T23:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T23:17:53.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Casey Anthony isn't found guilty..</title><content type='html'>I wanted to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOBODY deserves to get away with a murder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Casey Anthony did NOT win. She has a dead daughter, a guilty conscience, a society that hates her, and a date with the devil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-8371509617907774852?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/8371509617907774852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/casey-anthony-isnt-found-guilty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8371509617907774852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8371509617907774852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/casey-anthony-isnt-found-guilty.html' title='Casey Anthony isn&apos;t found guilty..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2925673215419053356</id><published>2011-07-05T23:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T23:15:17.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Craziest Fourth of July EVER.</title><content type='html'>So MM told me he loved me, like love-loved me.&lt;br /&gt;I told him I liked him too, and I think I'm leading him on now.. I feel HORRIBLE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially becasue after me and RM got in a big fight and then I forgave him, we kissed.&lt;br /&gt;We fucking kissed.&lt;br /&gt;While fireworks were going off.&lt;br /&gt;Oh. My. Gosh.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe I did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though it was planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew it was going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't think it'd feel like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had his arm around me, and tried holding my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I left, he gave me a big, tight hug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if MM found out?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I'd do.&lt;br /&gt;I'd probably lose him as a friend forever.&lt;br /&gt;I feel horrible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2925673215419053356?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2925673215419053356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/craziest-fourth-of-july-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2925673215419053356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2925673215419053356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/craziest-fourth-of-july-ever.html' title='Craziest Fourth of July EVER.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2910474081422462283</id><published>2011-07-01T17:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T17:37:30.422-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Next Summer.</title><content type='html'>My summer has been a total DRAG. So, I'm creating a bucket list for next summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;get bellybutton pierced&lt;br /&gt;go skinny dipping&lt;br /&gt;go camping&lt;br /&gt;lay out in the backyard&lt;br /&gt;pull an all-nighter&lt;br /&gt;go stargazing a 2 in the morning&lt;br /&gt;wake up at 5 for no reason &lt;br /&gt;send a letter to a martyr&lt;br /&gt;take a babysitting class&lt;br /&gt;go to carowinds&lt;br /&gt;lie in bed&amp;nbsp;in the morning&amp;nbsp;morning, with the windows open &amp;amp; good music playing loudly&lt;br /&gt;Two words: Sidewalk Chalk&lt;br /&gt;work&lt;br /&gt;take a photo everyday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll add more as I think of them.&lt;br /&gt;I really want to be a CIT at a camp, I think that'd be so fun.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't know?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2910474081422462283?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2910474081422462283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/next-summer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2910474081422462283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2910474081422462283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/next-summer.html' title='Next Summer.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2900054740649192957</id><published>2011-07-01T16:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T16:49:12.932-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I WANT A JOB.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://lemon-popsicles.tumblr.com/post/7040278661" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lm4n0cRfZw1qgidvho1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, not a relevant picture,&lt;br /&gt;but I like it&lt;br /&gt;and I love summer&lt;br /&gt;but&lt;br /&gt;even though I have sooo much to do already&lt;br /&gt;I WANT A JOB AND I WANT MONEYYY.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2900054740649192957?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2900054740649192957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-want-job.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2900054740649192957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2900054740649192957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-want-job.html' title='I WANT A JOB.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1837455122204860069</id><published>2011-07-01T16:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T16:24:12.947-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"'depression' is so underrated"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;"Do you have any idea what it's like to not want to get out of bed every morning, not wanting to go and deal with all the bullshit outside your bed? Do you even know what it feels like to feel completely alone while you know there are millions of miserable people just like you? How about what it's like to be completely repuled by things you used to love? To feel completely lost in the dark and not really knowing if thereis a way out? to not have the strength to feel like you can make it through the whole day, let alone the next one, without breaking down? To not be able to explain how you feel at all? To have everyone constantly asking if you're okay until it gets to a point where no one asks, making you wonder if they don't notice or just don't care? To have no energy or drive to do anything? To feel completely worthless? To hate who you are and how you look/ To feel like you have control over nothng? To know you don't belong? To feel rappedi nside a world full of ugly things but being scared of what on the other side? To be hurting constantly? To know there's no one to save you from the way you feel/ To know the only one who's really hurting you is yourself?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I only halfway understand how it feels, but I do know that this world is an ugly and horrible place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1837455122204860069?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1837455122204860069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/depression-is-so-underrated.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1837455122204860069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1837455122204860069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/depression-is-so-underrated.html' title='&quot;&apos;depression&apos; is so underrated&quot;'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5268208207142218631</id><published>2011-07-01T11:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T11:23:25.594-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so fragile, please just leave me alone.</title><content type='html'>Everytime I look at her, I am reminded of how I was constantly competing with her. It makes me feel like shit. And there is just so much going on right now that TM doesn't know about; I wish he'd just stop and think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this, I feel like I'm going into a depression.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5268208207142218631?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5268208207142218631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/im-so-fragile-please-just-leave-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5268208207142218631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5268208207142218631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/07/im-so-fragile-please-just-leave-me.html' title='I&apos;m so fragile, please just leave me alone.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7484875134549982571</id><published>2011-06-30T23:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T23:42:22.402-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life.</title><content type='html'>Life is about taking chances.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about trying new things.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about falling in and out of&amp;nbsp;love.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about having fun.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about appreciating memories.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about finding happiness.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about learning from mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about growing as a person.&lt;br /&gt;Life is about finding yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is such a fragile thing.&lt;br /&gt;My life completely flipped around within just a few months, and it has gone downhill ever since.&lt;br /&gt;I sent a message to a friend a while ago, saying this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey. I know this is incredibly random, but I don't want to act like someone I'm not anymore, and I'm sick of lying, and I think its time to just take responsibility for my actions/mistakes. I wanted to tell you that all those rumors (most anyway) aren't exactly "rumors". I'm very ashamed of myself. It was trashy, inappropriate, and it changed me in ways I'll never be able to change back. I'm embarrassed of myself, I feel like the "me" six months ago would never even consider doing things like that. I used to be very opinionated about this kind of stuff- I thought it was trashy and I wanted nothing to do with anybody that did things like that. I'm not sure what happened or why I did it in the first place. But I know I did it for all the wrong reasons.For example, I loved the thrill of it, to be honest. I loved knowing that I was actually getting away with something like that. I loved knowing that people would never find out (boy was I wrong). And even though I hate to say it, I loved feeling wanted. But I think every girl loves that feeling. I just let it get the worst of me. Nothing good has come out of this. I'm beginning to feel like some of my friends are only still my friends because I lied and made them thing I was the innocent girl that I will never be anymore. I hate that nobody can look at me the same anymore. I don't blame them, I am completely different now then I was before. I used to have way more confidence in myself. I lost all of that confidence. I used to have all of the self respect in the world. Thats gone too. And stuff like confidence and self respect doesn't just get there easily. It takes a lot for somebody to get that way. And sure, I will eventually gain my confidence and self respect back, but never the way I had it before. I'm telling you all of this because you are my friend, you have been for three years. We've been through it all, and I hope this doesn't changeanything. I know you'll look at me differently, everybody has told me that. But I promise that wayy deep on the inside, I'm still the same person. I regret everything, I don't plan on doing it again (He knows that. The farthest we've gone is making out. I'm keeping it that way.). I love you, and I trust that you won't share any of this with anyone (I don't just pour myself out like this to just any one). And if anybody asks you if its true or not, just tell them to talk to me about it. Because I'm sooo past denying it and pretending I don't make mistakes. Yes its going to be hard but I'll get past that too. One of the biggest problems is me and Jesus. I have absolutely no relationship with him anymore. And unfortunately I can't go to PHAT camp, but I really need it. I hate how this has pretty much scarred me for life, I am forever changed. I've learned alot though about who I can trust and who my real friends are. I hope this doesn't change anything. I hate that I lied to you and everybody else about it, and even ended up fighting with ya'll, knowing that it was all just a big lie. At first, back when all that drama happened, I didn't regret it. I didn't realize how stupid it was, and I definitely wasn't ready to admit to it. But yeah. That was then. Sorry if it seems like I'm just throwing all of this at you, I just feel like I owe it to you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm searching for a way to repair myself. The only way I've come up with is Jesus. I need Him. I need God in my life. I just don't know where to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eighth grade changed me so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7484875134549982571?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7484875134549982571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7484875134549982571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7484875134549982571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/life.html' title='Life.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-223789772236747856</id><published>2011-06-30T23:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T23:17:14.135-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish I knew then what I know now.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Just because two lips join doesn't mean two hearts meet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-223789772236747856?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/223789772236747856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-wish-i-knew-then-what-i-know-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/223789772236747856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/223789772236747856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-wish-i-knew-then-what-i-know-now.html' title='I wish I knew then what I know now.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7309941711713233248</id><published>2011-06-30T23:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T23:08:05.009-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One day,</title><content type='html'>I'm gonna do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://fillmewithsummer.tumblr.com/post/6989399639" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_llgo6msG1g1qiehpzo1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7309941711713233248?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7309941711713233248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/one-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7309941711713233248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7309941711713233248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/one-day.html' title='One day,'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-3276061173947675860</id><published>2011-06-30T22:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T22:57:52.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What I think..</title><content type='html'>You know whats weird?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As wise humans, we only trust a few with our life.&lt;br /&gt;I only have two people that I trust with my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, we trust so many people with our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;Our fragile hearts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-3276061173947675860?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/3276061173947675860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-i-think.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3276061173947675860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3276061173947675860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-i-think.html' title='What I think..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-14959653432158998</id><published>2011-06-30T16:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T16:53:38.794-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I want a lover.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://tanskinshortskirts.tumblr.com/post/7010723986" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljx7n5YqYX1qft2lno1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tanskinshortskirts.tumblr.com/post/6922238634" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lbkitqlFBd1qcutqto1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tanswag.tumblr.com/post/7033687814" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lncxnvkLeN1qz9vsdo1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-14959653432158998?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/14959653432158998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-want-lover.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/14959653432158998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/14959653432158998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-want-lover.html' title='I want a lover.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4803577807720982280</id><published>2011-06-29T12:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T12:09:36.205-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Atelphobia</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The fear of not being good enough.&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/8884618760231088594-4803577807720982280?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4803577807720982280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/atelphobia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4803577807720982280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4803577807720982280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/atelphobia.html' title='Atelphobia'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4621331269763756045</id><published>2011-06-29T11:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T11:53:45.949-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Worst. Feeling. Ever.</title><content type='html'>I'm not good enough.&lt;br /&gt;I never have been, and I never will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4621331269763756045?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4621331269763756045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/worst-feeling-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4621331269763756045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4621331269763756045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/worst-feeling-ever.html' title='Worst. Feeling. Ever.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5004687240440184032</id><published>2011-06-29T11:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T11:42:30.704-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Broken.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="691485-12-1309352248863_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11364070/691485-12-1309352248863_large.jpg?1309353372" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did all my strength go? My confidence?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got nothing anymore,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but divorcing parents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and a torn heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm weak, I'm easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no spine, no back bone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the 2010 Kirsten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one who went to Jesus for help.&lt;br /&gt;The one who never let words bring her down.&lt;br /&gt;The one who kept her friends close by.&lt;br /&gt;The one who knew she was beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;The one who wore t-shirts every day.&lt;br /&gt;The one who&amp;nbsp;knew right from wrong.&lt;br /&gt;The one who didn't care what anyone thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this. I hate it. I hate &lt;em&gt;knowing&lt;/em&gt; that I wasn't good enough for him.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not saying that because I'm one of those depressed girls,&lt;br /&gt;he said it himself.&lt;br /&gt;"I can do much better than her."&lt;br /&gt;The words make me just want to collapse.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm already broken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5004687240440184032?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5004687240440184032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-broken.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5004687240440184032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5004687240440184032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-broken.html' title='I&apos;m Broken.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5077305701478972829</id><published>2011-06-27T20:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T20:56:47.548-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I want.</title><content type='html'>A belly button ring.&lt;br /&gt;Bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5077305701478972829?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5077305701478972829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-want.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5077305701478972829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5077305701478972829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-want.html' title='I want.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5843347349393057113</id><published>2011-06-27T20:47:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T20:47:44.188-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://-420.tumblr.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lihfhu6HCR1qhux7to1_500.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5843347349393057113?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5843347349393057113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/beautiful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5843347349393057113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5843347349393057113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/beautiful.html' title='Beautiful.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2587350198769935035</id><published>2011-06-27T20:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T20:06:23.143-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Biggest goal right now: Live care free.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://californiaskaanks.tumblr.com/post/6904813731" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_li1ffySGMR1qdrq01o1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, after I finish the last four Harry Potter books by July 15 AND finish ALL my summer school work by August 8.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2587350198769935035?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2587350198769935035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/biggest-goal-right-now-live-care-free.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2587350198769935035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2587350198769935035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/biggest-goal-right-now-live-care-free.html' title='Biggest goal right now: Live care free.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6360580311037043772</id><published>2011-06-27T20:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T20:01:58.058-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Never share your weaknesses with anyone, because once they know them, thats when they take advantage of you.</title><content type='html'>&amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6360580311037043772?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6360580311037043772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/never-share-your-weaknesses-with-anyone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6360580311037043772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6360580311037043772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/never-share-your-weaknesses-with-anyone.html' title='Never share your weaknesses with anyone, because once they know them, thats when they take advantage of you.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-218607729060623934</id><published>2011-06-26T12:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T12:29:14.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I really love Florida, everything about it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="Tumblr_l9gejd2zjn1qdasj6o1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11250762/tumblr_l9gejd2zjN1qdasj6o1_500_large.jpg?1309103863" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Untitled" class="img" height="200" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10519710/tumblr_lm4l6kEm8q1qhr1uko1_500_thumb.jpg?1307368993" width="240" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lnbt37jsb51qjsf4oo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11242788/tumblr_lnbt37JSb51qjsf4oo1_500_large.jpg?1309087884" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lligp2xjFB1qdvmwxo1_500.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lnddj5nea21qm0k57o1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11236198/tumblr_lnddj5neA21qm0k57o1_500_large.jpg?1309066086" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pinkshortshorts.tumblr.com/post/6935793872" style="color: #ff7fd4;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ln9a43rNUf1qhxi19o1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pinkshortshorts.tumblr.com/post/6935766027" style="color: #ffd47f;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmjkhvCcgM1qhvohgo1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_ln3v2jbup21qh7i8go1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11156500/tumblr_ln3v2jBUP21qh7i8go1_500_large.jpg?1308889944" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pinkshortshorts.tumblr.com/post/6933921907/seasonsofreedom-tumblr-com" style="color: #ffa97f;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lja6sa399f1qbjrgzo1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lndag8j51c1qzzhbuo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11250980/tumblr_lndag8j51c1qzzhbuo1_500_large.jpg?1309104263" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've got some goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get skinny.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eat healthy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get tan.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Keep my room cleaner.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Screw relationships, just flirt and have fun.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Yayyuhhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-218607729060623934?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/218607729060623934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-really-love-florida-everything-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/218607729060623934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/218607729060623934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-really-love-florida-everything-about.html' title='I really love Florida, everything about it.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-3801957674087706392</id><published>2011-06-26T12:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T12:16:23.522-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy you got my heartbeat running away...</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lndu589oCe1qkscwbo1_400.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always want what I can't have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RM and MM.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;I think BMS still likes MM. So it kind of sucks.&lt;br /&gt;And of course, LO has RM wrapped around her fingers...&lt;br /&gt;My phone broke so I haven't even talked to RM since Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Florida was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;I'm obsessed. Its beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I've been there before, but this time, I really appreciated it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daytona is great. All the little shops. So cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I had a lot to say, but I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My feelings are everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about the whole religion thing. I don't know where I stand with Jesus. I'm scared to rededicate myself because of what I'll have to realize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So me and RM are going to be fbw's. I don't know why I agreed, but I did.&lt;br /&gt;I think because now, I won't have to lose him to LO.&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is so much on one person.&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand it.&lt;br /&gt;I have no one to talk to about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a horrible dream last night, that my mom found out.&lt;br /&gt;I'm terrified of that happening. &lt;br /&gt;I've got to stop this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-3801957674087706392?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/3801957674087706392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/boy-you-got-my-heartbeat-running-away.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3801957674087706392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3801957674087706392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/boy-you-got-my-heartbeat-running-away.html' title='Boy you got my heartbeat running away...'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-8190829462731609963</id><published>2011-06-26T11:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T11:48:45.770-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I believe in the sand beneath my toes...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" class="the-photo" src="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmd8pomnuB1qjs6x7o1_250.png" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;img alt="" class="the-photo" src="http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lfa8nlgSmv1qf402yo1_250.jpg" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://calif0rniahipster.tumblr.com/post/6933517645" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ln5glhJe5i1qbnt9xo1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://gettindrunkwithangels.tumblr.com/post/6937917382" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmcfvrPIJl1qihzeno1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://gettindrunkwithangels.tumblr.com/post/6934576866" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lnch886qD11qgoaugo1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fake-mermaid.tumblr.com/post/6902105115" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ln9jpxXbEK1qlj860o1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fake-mermaid.tumblr.com/post/6754037622" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ln27jwhYgr1qgi3zgo1_500.jpg" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://runawaychaos.tumblr.com/post/6938406018/summerlust143-theyre-so-skinny"&gt;&lt;img alt="summerlust143:they’re so skinny." src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lnbma0ED9e1qkzn9xo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" class="the-photo" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ln985dpGwM1qzlp6zo1_250.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://yourasfakeasabarbie.tumblr.com/post/6936258810" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_li4bdwFiSh1qbnj6to1_500.png" style="min-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I &amp;lt;3 Summer.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-8190829462731609963?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/8190829462731609963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-believe-in-sand-beneath-my-toes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8190829462731609963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/8190829462731609963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-believe-in-sand-beneath-my-toes.html' title='I believe in the sand beneath my toes...'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1514156537106450932</id><published>2011-06-25T23:32:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T12:05:53.717-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left.</title><content type='html'>I'm going to live by that from now on.&lt;br /&gt;I need to learn to be a bit more wise, then maybe I won't have to suffer anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot to say, but I'm tired and its late. Tomorrow though, I'll type up a big long exciting blog. &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1514156537106450932?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1514156537106450932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/wise-girl-kisses-but-doesnt-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1514156537106450932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1514156537106450932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/wise-girl-kisses-but-doesnt-love.html' title='A wise girl kisses but doesn&apos;t love, listens but doesn&apos;t believe, and leaves before she is left.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5584949625923463416</id><published>2011-06-17T10:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T10:19:44.817-04:00</updated><title type='text'>screw this</title><content type='html'>Screw new blog?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I think so.&lt;br /&gt;Me and RM are done. I don't care. Over itttt.&lt;br /&gt;Florida tomorrow. Woot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lmsl3ac1jc1qk433ro1_400_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10801490/tumblr_lmsl3ac1Jc1qk433ro1_400_large.jpg?1308074963" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5584949625923463416?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5584949625923463416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/screw-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5584949625923463416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5584949625923463416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/screw-this.html' title='screw this'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1240026606520802456</id><published>2011-06-04T12:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T12:28:48.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You can turn off the sun, but I'm still gonna shineee.</title><content type='html'>I think I'm going to make a new blog, this one is a constant reminder of my lost confidence and my terrible mistakes. I want my confidence and my self respect back.&lt;br /&gt;New blog. &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.smileforallthehaters.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.smileforallthehaters.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first plan was to not mention anything negative or anything that has been bothering me on the new blog. It was just going to be about the happy things. But I realized that part of accepting the fact that I made mistakes is accepting the negative consequences, and part of becoming a better person is realizing that my life will never be perfect, theres always going to be something bothering me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the purpose of my new blog is to have a fresh start, a clean plate. &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1240026606520802456?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1240026606520802456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-can-turn-off-sun-but-im-still-gonna.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1240026606520802456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1240026606520802456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-can-turn-off-sun-but-im-still-gonna.html' title='You can turn off the sun, but I&apos;m still gonna shineee.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2125595491360685560</id><published>2011-05-30T11:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T11:11:47.774-04:00</updated><title type='text'>swim with the current and float away</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="Tumblr_ll1u8njgix1qbgm6io1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10288439/tumblr_ll1u8nJgIx1qbgm6io1_500_large.jpg?1306766255" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You know what I hate? I don't care what people call me- they can call me a slut or a whore or whatever and it doesn't bother me. Yeah,i t makes me watnt to slap them but it doesn't really affect me on the inside. But when somebody calls me trashy, thats like my breaking point. I never want to be called trashy. If someone told me that I was trashy, and they meant it, I'd be so speechless and I'd probably just cry. But I'm sitting here thinking that if anybody DID call me trashy- I wouldn't have any way to defend myself other than "We all make mistakes". Because that is exactly what I've become. Trashy. I completely threw myself out at a guy. I hate that within two months, I did all that. Thats just trashy. And now look. I hate that. And I'm glad that I haven't lost as many friends as I deserve to have lost- but really, a lot of these people are only still my "friend" because I LIED and convinced them that all that crap was just rumors. And I can keep telling myself that everything is okay now, but its not. Everything is only "okay" because I lied instead of admitting to my mistakes. I think its because I'm just starting to admit my mistakes to myself. You know, all those girls aren't friends with LO anymore because they think shes turned into a whore. she hasn't even done anything. And in my head, I call LO trashy because shes constantly cussing and she'll do whatever it takes to please others and make them like ehre. And then I realize I have no room to talk because I cuss a lot now too (which I used to think was the trashiest of all trashy things) and when I first did stuff with TE, I did it to get that stupid feeling of acceptance. I am officially "trashy".&lt;br /&gt;MM: You are not trashy. Cussing doesn't make you trashy and neither does the stuff you did. It was a mistakes, don't let a bunch of judgemental cunts make you feel bad.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Cunts. (:&lt;br /&gt;MM: Theres that smile. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GB: Everything okay?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well. I'm eating ice cream and staring at the wall, texting like six different people so I can keep my mind busy and not break down into tears. If you want to count that as "okay", then sure.&lt;br /&gt;GB: Baby, whats wrong?&lt;br /&gt;Me: I was sitting here thinking, and I realized that I don't care if anybody calls me a slut or a whore or whatever (I mean I care but I can convince myself that its not true) but the one thing that bothers me is that I have become trashy. If someone called me trashy (which is the last thing I ever want to be called) I wouldn't be able to defend myself other than "we all make mistakes". I just hate this whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;GB: You aren't trashy and I would neever thing of you like that.. You can defend yourself with the fact that no one should even be talking about your life. Its gossip, its mean, its rude, its hypocritical, and most of it is wholely untrue. Don't let people get you down. You're beautiful and awesome and yeah, you may have made mistakes but you're a good enough person to move on. If they have any ounce of maturity the will deal with themselves and do the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss that confidence I used to have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2125595491360685560?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2125595491360685560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/swim-with-current-and-float-away.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2125595491360685560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2125595491360685560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/swim-with-current-and-float-away.html' title='swim with the current and float away'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4562546197468653926</id><published>2011-05-29T10:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-29T10:01:30.035-04:00</updated><title type='text'>E.T.</title><content type='html'>Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me&lt;br /&gt;Infect me with your love and&lt;br /&gt;Fill me with your poison&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take me, ta-ta-take me&lt;br /&gt;Wanna be a victim&lt;br /&gt;Ready for abduction&lt;br /&gt;Boy, you're an alien&lt;br /&gt;Your touch so foreign&lt;br /&gt;It's supernatural&lt;br /&gt;Extraterrestrial&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your so supersonic&lt;br /&gt;Wanna feel your powers&lt;br /&gt;Stun me with your lasers&lt;br /&gt;Your kiss is cosmic&lt;br /&gt;Every move is magic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_llixy8ygok1qevcu2o1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10250594/tumblr_llixy8YGok1qevcu2o1_500_large.jpg?1306676805" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4562546197468653926?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4562546197468653926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/et.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4562546197468653926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4562546197468653926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/et.html' title='E.T.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5384886404131492578</id><published>2011-05-28T00:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T00:03:45.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Just Wanna Run.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"I JUST WANNA RUN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;HIDE&amp;nbsp;IT AWAY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;RUN BECAUSE THEY'RE CHASING ME DOWN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I JUST WANNA RUN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;THROW IT AWAY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;RUN BEFORE THEY'RE FINDING ME OUT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I JUST WANNA RUN."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Z220488871_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10202025/z220488871_large.jpg?1306554040" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5384886404131492578?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5384886404131492578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-just-wanna-run.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5384886404131492578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5384886404131492578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-just-wanna-run.html' title='I Just Wanna Run.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1146908878976663821</id><published>2011-05-27T16:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T16:28:04.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahh yes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;"Theres a story behind every person. There's a reason they're the way they are. They aren't just like that because they want to be. Something in their past created them, and sometimes its impossible to fix them."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_llavltowli1qc291io1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10116962/tumblr_llavltOwlI1qc291io1_500_large.png?1306333554" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-large;"&gt;"I think I'm afraid to be happy. Because every time I get happy, something bad happens."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-large;"&gt;"I only get jealous because I love you and I don't want any one else to have you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-large;"&gt;"We're never going to be as young as we are tonight."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1146908878976663821?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1146908878976663821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/ahh-yes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1146908878976663821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1146908878976663821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/ahh-yes.html' title='Ahh yes.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-234302019383404294</id><published>2011-05-27T16:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T16:15:48.544-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't stop missing you.</title><content type='html'>I haven't seen him since Monday. Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lll7axlo831qau275o1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10189748/tumblr_lll7axlO831qau275o1_500_large.jpg?1306525621" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung out with BKS and LS Wednesday night. LS asked how far me and RM had gone..? Awkwarddd. I said makeout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent the night with BS last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MP and OF got drunk and smoked weed the other night.&lt;br /&gt;Ha, me and MP were supposed to get drunk together. Fuck that, she's not coming to statesboro with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am addicted to Glee. Iloveitt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JR is moving back to Georgia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21 days, 12 hours, 49 minutes, and 50 seconds until I'm on my way to Disney. &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sweetfeelingsandcandydreams.tumblr.com/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" id="photoposts" src="http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lllzi8kuEk1qi7m8qo1_500.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-234302019383404294?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/234302019383404294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-cant-stop-missing-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/234302019383404294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/234302019383404294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-cant-stop-missing-you.html' title='I can&apos;t stop missing you.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4255162087991071955</id><published>2011-05-25T10:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T10:36:30.599-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hollerrrrr!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;...if you're ready for some summer nights!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="-for-a-stylish-life--60_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/10116834/-For-a-stylish-life--60_large.jpg?1306333246" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Goodnesssss, I love summer!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;First REAL blog of summer! Wooootttt!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So lots of crap happened on the last day of school when we were going to McDonald's. LO claims she dipped, and asked for a "pinch" of RM's. Yeah, it pisses me off, but whatever. I hate how she thinks shes such a badass though, and she's really not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Anyways, I spent the night at JB's after McDonald's. We found out at about midnight that SG had gotten drunk and for whatever reason, he had to go get his stomach pumped. It was pretty sad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Friday, we went swimming at the Riverwood pool, then got ice cream from the ice cream truck, and then I went home later. I hung out with MP a little bit, then came home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Saturday, I went to BKS's house and swam with her and some 7th graders (now), and then went to AG's with my sister. Did nothing that night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sunday was boringg. Did nothing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Monday was fun, I woke up and went shopping. Went to the mall and to Kohls. I got shorts and a&amp;nbsp;cute tube top from Hollister, and shorts and a dress from Kohl's. I'm excited to wear them when we go on vacation. &amp;lt;3 Ahhh. Disney World! Anyways, afterwards, I went to RM's house. He taught me how to play Black Ops, which I was terrible at, and then we went to his treehouse... :) Then we went to a baseball game, which was fun I guess, then I came home, hung out with MP and OF for a little bit, and then went to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tuesday was alrighhht. I pretty much just sat around all day. BS was going to spend the night, but couldn't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Church tonight. I think LS wants to hang out today, but I don't know yett. I guess we'll seee.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've been having to take care of Molly. She is sooo annoying at night, I can't sleep. Only two more nights. Gahh. :/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I skyped TM Monday night. We were talking about how we won't be able to hang out without RM, and it was kind of depressing. I don't knoww.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Summer's been good. &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4255162087991071955?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4255162087991071955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/hollerrrrr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4255162087991071955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4255162087991071955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/hollerrrrr.html' title='Hollerrrrr!'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5465139322858877849</id><published>2011-05-20T21:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T21:39:15.158-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, you had it, but oh, no, you lost it...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;"Bad decisions make good stories."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have&amp;nbsp;a ton to talk about. I'm having mixed emotions. I don't know if I'm happy or sad or what. Just confused, overwhelmed.. I &lt;br /&gt;Anyways, yesterday was the last day of school. It was amazing and terrible all at once.&lt;br /&gt;Wait, rewind.&lt;br /&gt;Todays friday, yesterday was Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday, we ate lunch in the classroom as we watched the Diary of Anne Frank. TM found a note in my purse from MP about some stuff that he wasn't supposed to know. I didn't want him to read it because TE was right there, and then he'd know that I told TM. It would have been a disaster. So me and TM started arguing because he wouldn't give it back. I finally just sat there quietly, but then TM and OM and JN started throwing bread crumbs at me and telling me to go sit with the girls, so I did.&lt;br /&gt;Then they started throwing Gripz at me, and even ketchup packets. Made me feel like total shit. I was trying not to cry, honestly. The people that were once my friends were now throwing food at me and making me look like a fool.&lt;br /&gt;I told TM that he goes into dick mode when he gets around people, and no matter how many deep conversations we have, my efforts to be friends with him always fail because of his douche bag-ness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, CW, RM, CN, LO, and a bunch of other people walked to McDonald's after school yetserday. RM tried to kiss me on the bridge, but I wouldn't. I wish I would have. I don't know when the next time I'll see him is.&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot more to say, but I'm getting tired.&lt;br /&gt;I'm having a good summer so far, although today was only the first day. Its been eventful, just great. &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5465139322858877849?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5465139322858877849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/oh-you-had-it-but-oh-no-you-lost-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5465139322858877849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5465139322858877849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/oh-you-had-it-but-oh-no-you-lost-it.html' title='Oh, you had it, but oh, no, you lost it...'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-891319354806946765</id><published>2011-05-17T22:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T22:11:44.288-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another oldie.</title><content type='html'>This was from March 28. Never posted it, I was scared then.&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;Its those two extra words.&lt;br /&gt;They are terrifying to me.&lt;br /&gt;I try not to think about what others would think if they knew.&lt;br /&gt;Especially since its with &lt;em&gt;him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They'd be mad.&lt;br /&gt;They'd call me a whore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I hadn't gotten myself into such a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hardest part is that I'm the last person they'd expect. I don't wear makeup. I don't put slutty pictures all over facebook. I don't gossip. I don't throw myself all over guys. I'm just "sweet innocent little Nicole".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared,&amp;nbsp; and nobody understands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_liqu1oiduh1qdbhv8o1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8292596/tumblr_liqu1oIDUh1qdbhv8o1_500_large.jpg?1301274826" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-891319354806946765?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/891319354806946765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/another-oldie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/891319354806946765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/891319354806946765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/another-oldie.html' title='Another oldie.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7805565518366562654</id><published>2011-05-17T22:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T22:10:14.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hellyyycopterrrr.</title><content type='html'>I found an old draft from April 19. I started a pretty good post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I should have known this wouldn't have ended well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad&amp;nbsp;bought an&amp;nbsp;RC helicopter. I'm not sure why, but I'm glad he did. Its teaching me a lot about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot in common with the RC helicopter. One"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember where I was going with it, so I think I'll continue, and finish it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot in commob with the RC helicopter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, my dad loved the helicopter. He always wanted to play with it.&lt;br /&gt;First, TE and I were great friends. We were always talking and goofing around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Dad got more comfortable around the helicopter. So he tried to get the helicopter to go higher, and turn faster, etc.&lt;br /&gt;Then, TE realized how "easy" I was. He pushed me to go further and further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The helicopter did as it was told. Because it wanted to. It was very risky and dangerous, but the thrill was worth it. It was fun.&lt;br /&gt;I also did as I was asked. Because I wanted to. It was stupid, but the excitement was worth it. It was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad was enjoying himself. He kept pushing the helicopter to do more, and more, and more. The helicopter realized just how fun flying high was, so it did. It was even more cooperative then ever. It went even higher then Dad wanted.&lt;br /&gt;TE was enjoying himself. He kept pushing me to do more, and more, and more. I realized how fun it really was, so I didn't object. In fact, I offered. I did more than he asked for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad realized that the helicopter was out of his own control, and not fun anymore. It was too easy.&lt;br /&gt;TE realized the same about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The helicopter still wanted to have fun though, but it had changed. It had become weak, and stupid, and didn't have any sense of left and right.&lt;br /&gt;I still wanted to have fun though, but I had changed. I had become weak, and stupid, and didn't have any sense of wrong and right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad gave up, and the helicopter&amp;nbsp;is only used every now and then, and only for a short amount of time.&lt;br /&gt;TE gave up, and now we barely talk. Only now and then, and only for a short amount of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to hard to please people.&lt;br /&gt;That was April 19, when I thought all that up.&lt;br /&gt;Its easier to write now though. I don't know why I never finished it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7805565518366562654?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7805565518366562654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/hellyyycopterrrr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7805565518366562654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7805565518366562654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/hellyyycopterrrr.html' title='Hellyyycopterrrr.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-3007072316675296166</id><published>2011-05-17T21:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T21:51:16.718-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I really f*cked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Me: We never talk.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CC: Forreal.):&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: I hate this. Like, I understand I've changed (and I hate that too), and I expected some people to like stop talking to me or whatever, but not really you...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CC: Well I didn't want to stop talking to you. You just kinda stopped talking to me...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: I felt like it was better to not talk to you. Especially in the hallway that day, when i was walking with you and JB and she was asking me about it, and I told her she'd look at me differently and you said, "Yeah, you will." It hurts, it really does.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CC: I didn't mean it like that. I just mean its kinda a big deal. I still want to be friends and everything. I just feel like you've been avoiding me kinda.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: I didn't mean to be avoiding you. Its just that you were one of my best friends and one of my only "real" friends. And I could always tell you everything, and I thought that you of all people would respect it and not judge. I know that I acted like I didn't care about it, and thats probably why you reacted how you did, but I didn't realize at the time how wrong it was. I'm only recently realizing how much I hate the fact that I did it, and how it changed me. And I have "lost" many friends because of this, but most of them don't matter to me and its not a surprise that I don't talk to them anymore, but you're different.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CC: Well I think we should just go back to how we used to be because it kinda sucks not talking to you.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lkyehbn8jf1qfrejxo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9874352/tumblr_lkyehbn8JF1qfrejxo1_500_large.jpg?1305679040" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm scared of the end,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;terrified of losing him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Because I've come down to three friends.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've decided today, that MP isn't&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;the kind of person I need to be around.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That leaves RM, TM, and MM.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And unfortunately, I can't keep RM around for long.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm scared.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Its going to be awful.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;This is the best relationship I've had.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I need to stop being scared of the future,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and just enjoy how it is right now.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"People cry.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Not because they're weak.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Its because they've been&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;strong for too long."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I talked to TM for a while earlier.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We had a deep conversaton, kind of.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I told him everything that bothered me,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and we talked about how I changed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I started bawling last night, for at least an hour.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've never cried as hard as I was.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was gripping my sheets,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my stomach started to cramp,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my throat started to hurt.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just wanted to scream.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was the worst thing ever.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;BS and JH are over.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Its really depressing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hate to see her so broken.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My sister and her boyfriend of almost two years&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;also are on a break.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Last night, I considered telling my sister about&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;what I've done.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She knows about the weed,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;but thats it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know if I should tell her anything else.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I think I'll wait, and if the time is right,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll tell her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-3007072316675296166?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/3007072316675296166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-really-fcked-it-up-this-time-didnt-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3007072316675296166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/3007072316675296166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-really-fcked-it-up-this-time-didnt-i.html' title='I really f*cked it up this time, didn&apos;t I, my dear?'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5202495822480803776</id><published>2011-05-15T17:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T17:08:09.456-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I was a killer, I was the best they'd ever seen.</title><content type='html'>Crappy weekend.&lt;br /&gt;School tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Uggggghhhhhhhhhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really liking John Mayer, and also Vampire Weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_ll1u1rac4a1qgypvgo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9800165/tumblr_ll1u1rAC4a1qgypvgo1_500_large.png?1305491682" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing to write about...&lt;br /&gt;Just that I'm searching for peace.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to make myself happy anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll read tonight.&lt;br /&gt;I'll eat dinner,&lt;br /&gt;shower,&lt;br /&gt;and then read&lt;br /&gt;for the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;Then maybe I'll find peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5202495822480803776?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5202495822480803776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-was-killer-i-was-best-theyd-ever-seen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5202495822480803776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5202495822480803776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-was-killer-i-was-best-theyd-ever-seen.html' title='I was a killer, I was the best they&apos;d ever seen.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5420956233752267447</id><published>2011-05-14T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T19:11:54.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>dust bunnies and an empty mind.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="12812412957553_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9767044/12812412957553_large.jpg?1305413421" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm waiting, just waiting...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;For something good.&lt;br /&gt;Something perfect.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Words can't explain how I feel anymore.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_ll61qxiqxs1qfnhmao1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9767181/tumblr_ll61qxIqXS1qfnhmao1_500_large.jpg?1305413588" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dear TE:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lkyw109lhz1qj065bo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9767537/tumblr_lkyw109LhZ1qj065bo1_500_large.jpg?1305414031" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO. This made my day. imissbeingakid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lkg62ulr7a1qzz9xoo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9387863/tumblr_lkg62ulR7a1qzz9xoo1_500_large.gif?1304351133" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5420956233752267447?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5420956233752267447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/dust-bunnies-and-empty-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5420956233752267447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5420956233752267447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/dust-bunnies-and-empty-mind.html' title='dust bunnies and an empty mind.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6717961459311276766</id><published>2011-05-14T19:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T19:01:25.074-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So, whatever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;﻿&lt;img alt="Tumblr_kz01mgeebq1qzxi5qo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9766284/tumblr_kz01mgEeBq1qzxi5qo1_500_large.jpg?1305412114" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wow, I have so much to talk about today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lets start with school yesterday.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was the last Friday of eighth grade,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;of middle school.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We didn't do much. We had a cookout,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and we also got our yearbooks.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;LO signed her name.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;RM's letter thing was nice. &amp;lt;3&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So was TM.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;TE said pretty much implied that he misses being friends.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We had a guest speaker for science,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;the whole team met up to listen.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;RM sat next to me, but he was teasingly mad at me,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and stood up at the end of our table.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;LO got up and stood by him, and didn't sit down until he did.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shocker.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She said she was "getting a better view". Uhhuhhh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then at the cookout, she claimed that Ass Like That was her theme song.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;To RM.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Back off, bitch.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me, LO, and NP were the only Gb girls at the party.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;RM, CN, TB, TE, CP, and JF were the only Gb boys.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The rest were Rs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;They have cute boys....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anyways when TE first saw me, he was shocked.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I knew it'd be awkward.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He went, "Ohhh!" And pointed at me, smiling.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I did the same, grinning back.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Before LO and NP got there, I was talking to RM about LO.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He knew I didn't like her. I explained that I think&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;she still likes him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And so they flirted once she got there.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I tried to not care, but I was incredibly jealous.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He said CW was his best best friend,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;but that LO was his best friend.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ugh. What am I..? Just the girl he can "get some ass" from.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My mind keeps rushing back to the day he asked me out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was on the phone with MP and she told me that&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;CN had told her that RM told him that he was only dating me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;to "get some ass". Ughh. I want to mention it to him,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;because its terrifying me. I'm just scared of his response...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A lot of people were dancing (grinding).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;RM wanted to dance with me, and he kept trying.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If it was anybody else, I would have.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was just weird, the way he danced. Hes so tall,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I knew I wouldn't be any good.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I just kept saying I didn't want to.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He didn't want to do what I wanted to do (kiss),&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;so I wasn't giong to do what he wanted.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I met CC. I think hes really cute.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He&amp;nbsp;kept putting his arm around my waist,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and kept trying to dance with me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I really wanted to, but I knew it'd be a bitchy move.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When RM went to the bathroom, I just looked at him and smiled.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He asked if I wanted to dance,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and I stopped for a second and then I just said no.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He said he could tell I really wanted to,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and so I laughed and said he was right.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He took my out to where everyone was dancing,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;but I turned away. I couldn't dance with him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd feel like such a bitch.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was incredibly tempting, though.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;LO was cussing all night.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And just not acting like herself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She's become a whore.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She was trying to tell me how to dance.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanted to look at her and just say,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"After you teach my how to dance,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I could teach you how to **** a **"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I caught myself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When we were outside waiting for our ride,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;RM was talking to a few girls (and guys).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;JF and CF were being jerks about it to me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just kept saying I didn't care.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I honestly didn't think he was "hitting on them" or whatever.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;CF looked at me and mocked me and said, "Oh, I don't care&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;because all I want to do is make out with him."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanted to cry and slap him in the face all at once.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm so sick of him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;On Facebook earlier, I had this short conversation with TE:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What did you and RM do?"&lt;br /&gt;"Last night?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Yeah."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We made out. Thats it."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Whatever."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I miss being friends with him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know what happened.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was supposed to Skype RM and CN last night,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;but he didn't say anything about it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Probably on xbox with LO.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gosh... :/&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We only have four more days left of school.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I told Tate. He knows now.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Its so strange.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6717961459311276766?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6717961459311276766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-whatever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6717961459311276766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6717961459311276766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-whatever.html' title='So, whatever.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1560025708349002704</id><published>2011-05-11T15:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T15:49:54.059-04:00</updated><title type='text'>maybe, just maybe..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;﻿&lt;img alt="Tumblr_ll1opnnrlm1qhga5bo1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9665326/tumblr_ll1opnnrLm1qhga5bo1_500_large.jpg?1305141395" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I had a good day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nothing special happened,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but nothing bad happened either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And with the way things &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; been,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That makes today a good day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm hoping this is a sign.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A sign that things are going to slowly start getting better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm beyond excited about summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know its going to be great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I won't have to worry about everyone,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;or what they think.&lt;br /&gt;I can just lean back and enjoy myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Its Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;Next Thursday is the last day of school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That means only six more days,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and one weekend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm thrilled.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm looking forward to going to Disney World.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It will be me and my parents and my sister.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It will be great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Church and Mi Rancho tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope I get a chance to talk to TM again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We talked last week, but it didn't change anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I texted him last night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I told him I missed him. I said I missed Skyping&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;with him, I missed arguing with him,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and tons of other things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I meant it,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but I don't think he realizes how important to me he is, or was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't even know anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Anyways, I tried sitting with them at lunch,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but changed my mind. Its pointless.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They don't talk to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They used to want me there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He started saying that my text "meant nothing". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He doesn't understand me any more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ihatethat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We'll never be as close as we used to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You never know what you have until its gone,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;or, of course, unless its the only thing you have left.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(MM)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1560025708349002704?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1560025708349002704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/maybe-just-maybe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1560025708349002704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1560025708349002704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/maybe-just-maybe.html' title='maybe, just maybe..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-195807796933556305</id><published>2011-05-10T20:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T20:27:35.540-04:00</updated><title type='text'>bully</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="love." class="img" height="333" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9643563/tumblr_lkym2xOwIb1qdnm5zo1_500_thumb.jpg?1305073186" width="400" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am a &lt;strong&gt;bully&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I always make fun of others.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I always tease others.&lt;br /&gt;I always call people names.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And hear I am, upset about &lt;strong&gt;being&lt;/strong&gt; bullied...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When in truth, I'm just one of the contributors to this horror of &lt;strong&gt;bullying.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I long to be the girl everyone wants to be around.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I long to be ladylike, and proper.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I long to lose my "slutty" or "annoying" or "whore-ish" ways.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I long to be &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to change.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm not happy with who I am.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-195807796933556305?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/195807796933556305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/bully.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/195807796933556305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/195807796933556305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/bully.html' title='bully'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7689462156988277205</id><published>2011-05-10T17:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T17:33:27.006-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh I Wonder.</title><content type='html'>I wonder if, a year from now, when I look back and read all of these, I wonder if I will remember the deep story behind each blog. The meaning behind it. The reason for that feeling I had at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if I'll WANT to remember this Hell that I'm going through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like there is only one person that makes me feel happy, truly happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="IRREPLACEABLE X" class="img" height="200" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9638044/tumblr_lkzabi8poO1qittf0o1_500_thumb.jpg?1305061374" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;﻿His hugs, his smile, his laugh. The feeling of his soft curly hair brushing against my face. The comfort I get when his arms are around me. I could hug him forever. I feel secure, I feel safe. I feel like nothing else matters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I love that he always knows what to say and when to say it. I love that he knows when I'm uncomfortable with something. I love that he notices when something is bothering me. I love that he doesn't judge me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I don't want to lose him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I think I have a new best friend. MM. I can tell him anything, and he just sits, just listens. Its great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I hate that I get jealous so easily. I just don't understand how people's minds work. Does she honestly think its okay to flirt with my boyfriend? She had the chance to date him, she turned him down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I can't wait for summer. I'm constantly imagining all the days. Days spent RM, days spent swimming with MM, days spent tanning and gossiping with MP. Tons of different things. I can't wait. No more dealing with rumors.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Theres a party Friday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I guess I'll go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I feel lost sometimes. Like I'm getting pulled deeper and deeper into a forrest of unfamiliar people...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I was thinking today, and the thought of going into depression popped into my head... I would never admit that to anybody. Maybe MM, but thats it... I'm scared that I'll go into a depression. I'm terrified.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I'm making a promise to myself... to stop talking about people, and to be a nice person. Because I finally understand what its like to be bullied... Such a terrible feeling...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I was bad last Friday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Do I regret it?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I didn't do anything slutty, in my opinion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Others might think of it as a little bad, but not the worst that I've done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I liked being held in his arms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I spent my first night with a boy. &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7689462156988277205?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7689462156988277205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/oh-i-wonder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7689462156988277205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7689462156988277205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/oh-i-wonder.html' title='Oh I Wonder.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-9023976266198322124</id><published>2011-05-08T19:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T19:07:21.031-04:00</updated><title type='text'>be careful.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Storm_still_rages_inside_by_intano_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9572631/Storm_Still_Rages_Inside_by_intano_large.jpg?1304873136" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Of all the things I have learned,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;one thing really sticks out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have to be careful who I get close to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If they've hurt me before, they will hurt me again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;No matter what kind of "commitment" we have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Theres no such thing as a commitment to people like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-9023976266198322124?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/9023976266198322124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/be-careful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/9023976266198322124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/9023976266198322124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/be-careful.html' title='be careful.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6130982115433995428</id><published>2011-05-08T18:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T18:56:49.108-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Struggle is the Enemy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Já pensou em acreditar?" class="img" height="200" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9582908/tumblr_lfuapjxOYR1qdskqqo1_500_large_thumb.jpg?1304893952" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm scared.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That I'll never get another innocent, young love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm terrified,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;of the fact that I only have a few real friends left.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;RM, MM, BS, MP.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I mean sure, theres other people that know everything,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and that haven't judged me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But only four people that I'm really &lt;em&gt;close&lt;/em&gt; to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;RM&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We had a great talk earlier, and I'm so happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- We only have one weekend left before summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- Yeah? What do you mean?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- This year went by fast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- Yeah...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- I'm scared.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- What for?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- You seem like you hate all your ex-girlfriends. You are a jerk to all of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- They all turned out to be bitches..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- Well every girl is a bitch when they're upset.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- But you seem different. You are a lot cooler and way more real, if&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;that makes sense. But thats just the way I am. If someone acts like that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;toward me, I'll act the same way back. I'm only a jerk if they're a bitch first.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- Oh. I get it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- Yeah, that was random. Where did that come from?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- Idk haha. BM and DM both don't want to be going out over the summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- Wait, so you want to break up before summer..?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- Noooo. I was scared you wanted to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- Well, I don't (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- Okay. (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You- Is that cool with you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me- Yes, of course (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;No matter what happens, I hope you don't tell anyone anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Like about Friday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ahhh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You are a lot better than the old secret. Way better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;MM&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You are truly my best friend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love you like a brother, I really do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm so glad I have you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You are unlike anyone I know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;No matter how mad you get at someone,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;you continue respecting them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You always know the right thing to say,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;its insane.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm so happy we are so close.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;BS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm so happy we decided to tell each other our secrets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I feel like we've started a new friendship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Anyways,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm glad I have you to talk to, when it seems like noone else understands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know you will &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; understand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;MP&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Best friends. &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;GB has been a big help, but I don't feel like we are that close. I can't tell her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;a lot of things that I can tell others, who have actually done it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can't tell her that I didn't regret it for a long time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And some other stuff, that I'm too afraid to admit to myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;DM is great too, I'm glad I can talk to her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can believe she did the nasty though... Two nights ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ahh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Anyways, I can trust her with everything,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;its just that we aren't that good of friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We get bored with each other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;idon'tknow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I want to fall into a deep sleep,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and wake up in 3-4 months, when its time for school again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hopefully, by then, it will all be over. &amp;lt;/3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm broken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-6130982115433995428?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6130982115433995428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/struggle-is-enemy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6130982115433995428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6130982115433995428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/05/struggle-is-enemy.html' title='Struggle is the Enemy.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-7428365775575379545</id><published>2011-04-28T17:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T17:36:02.147-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We're just having fun, we don't care who sees.</title><content type='html'>So, about half those letters I wrote last time don't even make sense any more. I should rewrite them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear Guy Best Friend,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I think you really are my best friend. You know everything about The Secret, and you are the only one who didn't judge me (other than those we were involved in it, of course). You are truly one of the most inspiring people I know. You&amp;nbsp;are always thinking of other people, and you always know the right things to say. I'm so glad I have you. I've done some pretty hurtful things in the past, but I'm so happy we could get past that and move on. We are so close now, and I hope that never changes.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm really sorry about what happened with the girlfriend. Even though last Monday, I was wishing for this. I hate seeing you so broken. I hope I never made you this way. iloveyou. &amp;lt;3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear "The Secret" Guy,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sorry for blowing up on you yesterday.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Its just that this whole thing has really gotten to me. It sucks.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We've been friends for so long, I hope that my bitch fit didn't change anything.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm sorry, I really am.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And also, people are finding out. I swear I didn't tell. :/ Please, please oh please don't hate me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Dear Old Best Guy Friend,&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Wow.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;So I'm started to think we BOTH changed. You were such a jerk today, and yesterday. What is going on? I mean I understand that MAYBE you weren't as over me as I thought you were, and I hate myself for that. But you put me through hell, too, for a year, if I must remind you again. I just wish me and you could go back to how we used to be. When we would sit on Skype for hours at a time, and you'd listen to me complain about my problems, and you'd tease me for making funny faces. I miss that. I miss crushing on you. It was such an innocent love. I'll never ever ever get that again...&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear Boyfriend,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You're great. Thanks for not judging.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew it would come, I knew people would eventually start calling me names, like 'whore'. But I didn't think I'd care. But I do. A whole hell of a lot more than I thought I would.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-7428365775575379545?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/7428365775575379545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/were-just-having-fun-we-dont-care-who.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7428365775575379545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/7428365775575379545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/were-just-having-fun-we-dont-care-who.html' title='We&apos;re just having fun, we don&apos;t care who sees.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4409816825073577745</id><published>2011-04-18T18:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-18T18:57:36.522-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Be Wild'n 'Cause I'm Young.</title><content type='html'>There's so many different things I wish I could say, to so many different people...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear Guy Best Friend,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I miss us. I miss it being just me and you. I miss not having to worry about your girlfriend.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You are the most amazing guy I've ever met. It took me a while to get over you, I guess I finally moved on because of The Secret. Wow, its crazy that The Secret kind of seems like a solution to everything, and a problem for everything else... Anyways, I love you like a brother. You are truly one of my best friends. I love that I can tell you &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; and I know you won't judge me. &amp;lt;3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear "The Secret" Guy,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You know my biggest secret. Fuck, you ARE my biggest secret. I trust you with my LIFE. I just hate how you and The Secret have become everything to me, but its no big deal at all to you. You know everything, except that I'm planning to have a boyfriend soon... I hope The Secret can keep going, though.&amp;nbsp;But I know that it will make me the biggest whore ever. Its just so hard to stop. I hate how &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; can just toss it to the side and forget about it. How do you have the power to just end it? After all thats happened? I don't understand, but I wish I was that strong.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love you like a best friend, haha.. human glue stick/flarp.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Dear Old Best Guy Friend,&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;I miss how we used to be. I know you didn't change, I did. And its really hard to think about that. I wish I hadn't changed, because I'm not sure if it was for the better or for the worse. I wish you would have told me how you felt about me a long time ago, and we'd probably still be going out, and The Secret wouldn't have happened, and I would be a totally different person. Not that I can blame you. I take full responsibility for my actions. A part of me wishes you knew about The Secret. You know we kissed, which is hardly anything at all. But if you knew the whole thing, I feel like we might be closer. After a couple lectures, of course.. Although you'd never like me after The Secret. Ugh.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear Guy-I-Have-a-"Thing"-With,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You are so confusing, I wish you'd just be straight up with me. I hope you are being completely honest about liking me, I hope you aren't just doing this so you can "get some". I guess I regret telling you about The Secret. Ha, you don't even know the worst part. At least if we go out, nobody can say I'm putting on a "Fake Face" for you... Whatever.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Can't wait for Friday. As long as you ask me out before the party.... :/&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Parents,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Marriage counseling? Are you fucking kidding me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Dear Best Friend,&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;I'm so freaking glad I have you. &amp;lt;3 I've never gone through so much with someone before.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've become &lt;strong&gt;addicted&lt;/strong&gt; to being rebellious. Not being a whore, or a ho, or a slut, or whatever anyone else says. I'm addicting to the &lt;strong&gt;thrill. &lt;/strong&gt;I'm addicted to the &lt;strong&gt;excitement.&lt;/strong&gt; I'm addicted to that &lt;strong&gt;rush you get when you realize how easily you could get caught.&lt;/strong&gt; I'm addicted to it. I can't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this just HAPPENS to be my form of rebellion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, I love being &lt;strong&gt;young and careless and free. &lt;/strong&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="22131-861bad-500-344_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8939661/22131-861bad-500-344_large.jpg?1303151724" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What did you do today?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up at six and cried for half an hour. I am terrified of people finding out about the secret. I don't know what I'd do. Sure, I would deny it, but would they believe me?&lt;br /&gt;I went to school, came home, the usual. Held my neice for a while. She is such a joy, brightens every day.&lt;br /&gt;The guy I have a thing with has turned out to be a huge player. I'm not sure about him anymore, but we'll just have to see I guess...&lt;br /&gt;My parents have marriage counseling today. Cool, bruh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How do you feel?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fine-just-fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Any other comments?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4409816825073577745?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4409816825073577745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-be-wildn-cause-im-young.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4409816825073577745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4409816825073577745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-be-wildn-cause-im-young.html' title='I Be Wild&apos;n &apos;Cause I&apos;m Young.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-5278127325776045174</id><published>2011-04-17T17:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T17:43:10.927-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Who said nights were for sleep?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"This life is what you make it. Not matter what, you're going to mess up sometimes, it's a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you're going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends - they'll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, somg go. The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they'll come and go too. And babve, I hate to say it, most of them - actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can't give up becuase if you give up, you'll never find your soul mate. You'll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn't mean you're gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don't, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life's a beautiful thing and there's so much to smile about." -Marilyn Monroe.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="simple things" class="img" height="200" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8837757/tumblr_ljct2dwsFy1qclacfo1_500_thumb.jpg?1302890236" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Today, I have concluded that I am unsure of everything. Part of me thinks I need to start making more wise decisions. Another part of me thinks I should just keep having fun and being young, because I know that being young won't last forever. The rest of me thinks I should just fuck it, stop planning ahead, and just live in the moment and see what happens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Whichever I choose, &lt;strong&gt;all of me &lt;/strong&gt;knows that I need to stop letting my life revolve around The Secret.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Ahh, The Secret. It keeps growing, growing, growing... I can't control it although I know I have full advantage. None of it makes sense. It seems like a fantasy; its so hard to believe that this is actually happening. Its hard to get a grip on. A year ago, I wasn't even &lt;em&gt;dreaming&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;of this. I never thought I'd do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Its constantly on my mind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm going to challenge myself to post everday, or close to everyday, for a year. I'll answer the same three questions every day:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What did you do today?&lt;br /&gt;How do you feel?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Any other comments, notes, etc?&lt;/strong&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;After a year, I'll look back and read them. It should be interesting...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day One.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What did you do today?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Woke up from a friend's, went to church and lunch with her and&amp;nbsp;her mom, then spent some time shopping with Mom. Got athletic shorts and a romper for summer. I'm home now, incredibly tired, gonna be celebrating my brother's birthday in a little while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How do you feel?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Confused. I'm not sure what to do about anything any more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Any other comments, notes, etc?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Friday night, I spent the night at my best friend's. The Secret grew, a lot. And her mom was right down stairs, asleep... As exciting and thrilling as it was, it was pretty irresponsible and stupid, we could have easily gotten caught. I don't regret it though. Anyways, it lasted until about 3 AM. Saturday we woke up and nothing exciting happened, just us hanging out. We did have a really deep talk about The Secret though. I've never had such a deep talk with anybody before. We've become &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;close... Then I went to an old friend's house. We caught up a lot. I told her about The Secret, turns out she has a Secret of her own... I'm so relieved, and I'm glad I told her. One more person that understands. She also told me that she had gotten drunk with a friend. She showed me a video of it, I'm curious to try...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-5278127325776045174?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/5278127325776045174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/who-said-nights-were-for-sleep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5278127325776045174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/5278127325776045174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/who-said-nights-were-for-sleep.html' title='&quot;Who said nights were for sleep?&quot;'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1791079422203673668</id><published>2011-04-11T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T19:11:03.519-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time changes EVERYTHING.</title><content type='html'>I feel so &lt;em&gt;stuck&lt;/em&gt; sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;I always told myself to never give up,&lt;br /&gt;and I didn't. For a long time.&lt;br /&gt;But I guess when I realized that it had been over a &lt;em&gt;year,&lt;/em&gt; I decided it wasn't worth it.&lt;br /&gt;Thats when I finally just let myself cry.&lt;br /&gt;It was the first and only time I ever cried over you.&lt;br /&gt;Before then, I &lt;em&gt;couldn't&lt;/em&gt; cry over you.&lt;br /&gt;How could you cry over someone who constantly made you so happy?&lt;br /&gt;Who constantly led you to do the right thing?&lt;br /&gt;Who constantly had your back?&lt;br /&gt;But I guess all the &lt;strong&gt;wait&lt;/strong&gt; finally got to me-- I cried for hours straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I have every reason to be jumping for joy.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;dreamed&lt;/em&gt; of this day.&lt;br /&gt;The day you'd finally tell me you liked me.&lt;br /&gt;I never thought it'd be like this.&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I would have moved on.&lt;br /&gt;And if I had, I thought I'd be able to let go and go back to you,&lt;br /&gt;because its what I wanted for so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I've found a new adventure.&lt;br /&gt;I'm enjoying myself, being a &lt;em&gt;rebel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It scares me to think about what would happen if I did go back to you.&lt;br /&gt;I know the truth- I'm just too scared to admit it to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would cheat on you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know who I am anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="206643_199271220113157_100000908405450_516537_2971281_n_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8683972/206643_199271220113157_100000908405450_516537_2971281_n_large.jpg?1302446506" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1791079422203673668?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1791079422203673668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/time-changes-everything.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1791079422203673668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1791079422203673668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/time-changes-everything.html' title='Time changes EVERYTHING.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-6166714856802565890</id><published>2011-04-06T09:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T09:56:25.901-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Everything that happened that other night was wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Everything that happened that recent&amp;nbsp;night was wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If people knew, we'd be &lt;em&gt;dead.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;They already suspect something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can't decide if I regret it or not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There are some things I would have done differently, yes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But I wouldn't take back any of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wow...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm shocked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That I did all those things,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So many new things...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;None of them &lt;strike&gt;good.&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wonder how everyone else feels.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I mean, it was all six of us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We all did it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_lj8glc75vc1qfke2io1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8564162/tumblr_lj8glc75vc1qfke2io1_500_large.jpg?1302097237" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Special Friend,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wish I could talk to you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanna know if you're scared, too, that people might find out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ugh. &lt;/em&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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/8884618760231088594-6166714856802565890?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/6166714856802565890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/wow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6166714856802565890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/6166714856802565890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/wow.html' title='Wow.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4779129156183688266</id><published>2011-04-02T19:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-02T19:20:00.851-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Music is my escape.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="5564989894_f946757414_z_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8280320/5564989894_f946757414_z_large.jpg?1301248433" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4779129156183688266?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4779129156183688266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/music-is-my-escape.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4779129156183688266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4779129156183688266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/04/music-is-my-escape.html' title='Music is my escape.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-2215966503658054463</id><published>2011-03-31T19:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T19:49:05.279-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i've got some issues that nobody can see,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_limd3hfths1qc2yu0o1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8398748/tumblr_limd3hFtHs1qc2yu0o1_500_large.jpg?1301613988" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I feel like I've forgotten what true happiness feels like.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I used to be happy about everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ever since we started this &lt;em&gt;secret&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I feel like its the only thing I have to be happy about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Because I know that&amp;nbsp;for&amp;nbsp;those few minutes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am&lt;strong&gt; garunteed&lt;/strong&gt; happiness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;For those few minutes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There are no &lt;strike&gt;problems&lt;/strike&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There are no &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;stuck up girls&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There is no one to tell me that what I'm doing is &lt;em&gt;wrong, &lt;/em&gt;or &lt;em&gt;slutty, &lt;/em&gt;or &lt;em&gt;rude.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Its just me and you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And although we promised not to tell,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and we decided we didn't want anyone to know,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wouldn't mind if they did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Because they'd be &lt;em&gt;jealous&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And as sick as it is,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm not afraid to admit,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;that thats my only "happiness" nowadays.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;By the way, you're a good kisser.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gosh, I need help.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-2215966503658054463?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/2215966503658054463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/ive-got-some-issues-that-nobody-can-see.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2215966503658054463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/2215966503658054463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/ive-got-some-issues-that-nobody-can-see.html' title='i&apos;ve got some issues that nobody can see,'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4213369022180463149</id><published>2011-03-31T19:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T19:20:39.912-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so sick of rumors.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Dsc_7778b_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8314327/DSC_7778b_large.jpg?1301345086" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm so tired of lying for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Your secret is even bigger than mine and I've been able to keep it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What makes you think its okay to tell the person you knew I was &lt;em&gt;most&lt;/em&gt; scared&amp;nbsp;of finding out?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Not to mention, she has the biggest mouth ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So now everyone knows something is going on,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And maybe they know your secret, too,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But I've been able to convince them its&amp;nbsp;not true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've become a good liar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;All for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Best friend."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4213369022180463149?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4213369022180463149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-so-sick-of-rumors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4213369022180463149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4213369022180463149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-so-sick-of-rumors.html' title='I&apos;m so sick of rumors.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-4490465872012019521</id><published>2011-03-28T16:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T16:46:34.365-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still waiting for my own happy ending.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Honestly... I don't know why I do what I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Maybe because sometimes, you act like you don't care.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Maybe because its exciting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Maybe because it makes me feel loved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Maybe because I know its wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Maybe because for once, someone wants to be around me, just me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I know that if I told you, you'd be disappointed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I know that if I told you, you'd never trust me again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I know that if I told you, I'd lose every chance of you ever liking me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I know that if I told you, you'd never look at me the same.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I know I'd get one of those long, painful lectures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Maybe thats what I want?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Maybe thats what I need...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Tumblr_li656pze871qhhk7ko1_500_large" class="img" id="main_image" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/8176951/tumblr_li656pze871qhhk7ko1_500_large.jpg?1300933951" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-4490465872012019521?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/4490465872012019521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-still-waiting-for-my-own-happy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4490465872012019521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/4490465872012019521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-still-waiting-for-my-own-happy.html' title='I&apos;m still waiting for my own happy ending.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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-8884618760231088594.post-1697845158612652050</id><published>2011-03-27T13:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T13:04:48.880-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Existance.</title><content type='html'>I wish I had one person I could tell everything to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I don’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only have people that know &lt;em&gt;bits and pieces&lt;/em&gt; of what goes on in my life, noone knows the whole story about anything anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I &lt;strike&gt;don’t&amp;nbsp;like&lt;/strike&gt; having secrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its just that sometimes, keeping everything balled up inside is really difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I made this blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884618760231088594-1697845158612652050?l=clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/feeds/1697845158612652050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/welcome-to-existance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1697845158612652050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884618760231088594/posts/default/1697845158612652050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clearly--misunderstood.blogspot.com/2011/03/welcome-to-existance.html' title='Welcome to Existance.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17945560696065350429</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></feed>
