<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352</id><updated>2009-10-18T20:13:05.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it's the brightest thing i got when i'm covered in rain</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>274</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-4229314459636476486</id><published>2009-10-18T20:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T20:13:05.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alright,</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;writesleepcreatelaughhugcreatesleepwritereadeatsleepcreatecreatecreatecreate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;next week,&lt;br /&gt;mentally prepare yourself.&lt;br /&gt;next week,&lt;br /&gt;physically prepare yourself.&lt;br /&gt;next week,&lt;br /&gt;be prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;next week will be okay. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-4229314459636476486?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4229314459636476486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=4229314459636476486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/4229314459636476486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/4229314459636476486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/10/alright.html' title='Alright,'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-4598398122522272316</id><published>2009-10-11T19:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T19:21:05.028-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm done.</title><content type='html'>And I'm reaching out to you because I've reached my breaking point, again. See, the first time I went to Columbus, I needed ultimate escape. I couldn't handle things here anymore and the six hours I was away, it wasn't raining so hard on my head. I was able to see clearly and I lasted awhile, hopping in and out of escape when I could. But now, I'm back to my breaking point and though the most recent cut on my arm has almost entirely healed, I'm at my breaking point. I'm going back to Columbus for escape but it's entirely different now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I expect you not to mishandle the situation. You seem sincere, strangely sincere. I'll put aside all assumptions and be entirely sincere too. Because I'm at my breaking point and I need to get away. I need my escape again and you offered. Be prepared, I mean it when I say I need it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-4598398122522272316?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4598398122522272316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=4598398122522272316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/4598398122522272316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/4598398122522272316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-done.html' title='I&apos;m done.'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-7727350428964141716</id><published>2009-10-07T06:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T06:14:04.258-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm back to slicing</title><content type='html'>And I need to be writing it here - the kids don't care and that bothers me.&lt;br /&gt;In a way, I moved locations with my words so people would love me.&lt;br /&gt;I did.&lt;br /&gt;I figured, well, I'm not getting any attention over here so I'll go over there.&lt;br /&gt;And now that I'm back to cutting up my arm, I'm back here with allllll the demons.&lt;br /&gt;Bring it on. My entire self, hurts.&lt;br /&gt;And I love that.&lt;br /&gt;Oops, no progress there.&lt;br /&gt;I'm bitter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-7727350428964141716?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7727350428964141716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=7727350428964141716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/7727350428964141716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/7727350428964141716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-back-to-slicing.html' title='I&apos;m back to slicing'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-8681384298640004117</id><published>2009-02-21T00:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T00:25:51.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/STPU8DU4qII/AAAAAAAAAE8/-IFMunjNXRw/s1600-h/bd24360d89ca8ecc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/STPU8DU4qII/AAAAAAAAAE8/-IFMunjNXRw/s400/bd24360d89ca8ecc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274793716731127938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Jamie Tworkowski's response: You are not a fake. You are not letting us down. You don't have to apologize. Our hope is that when someone wears a TWLOHA shirt, they're not saying they have it all together or that eveything is easy now. We hope they're simply saying that these issues matter to them, that they're fighting to believe in hope and help, and they're fighting to help others believe as well. There is no membership process, no criteria for acceptance. This is a movement for broken people and it is led by broken people. This movement exists for you and people like you. It is yours as much as it's mine. We want to say that we're sorry for your pain, for whatever it is that hurts and causes you to cut. We want to say that you're not alone tonight. Perhaps more than anything, we want to push back at the lie called shame that suggests you're stuck, suggests you're fake, suggests you're somehow failing us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters. We live in a difficult world, a broken world. My friend Byron is very smart - he says that life is hard for most people most of the time. We believe that everyone can relate to pain, that all of us live with questions, and all of us get stuck in moments. You need to know that you're not alone in the places you feel stuck. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We all wake to the human condition. We wake to mystery and beauty but also to tragedy and loss. Millions of people live with problems of pain. Millions of homes are filled with questions – moments and seasons and cycles that come as thieves and aim to stay. We know that pain is very real. It is our privilege to suggest that hope is real, and that help is real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;i could tell myself that i forgot i saw this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;or that i forgot there was this organization&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;but that wouldn't be true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;i know it's out there and  i know there's help too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;but when i see someone send something like that in,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;it reminds me that other people are struggling too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;and i would have thought that knowing that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;and reading that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;would have made me feel better and made me feel stronger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;but the truth is, i'm still weaker than i'm telling people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;and i'm still weaker than i'd like to tell myself even&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;i know i'm getting there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;and that i took a few good steps in the right direction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;but it's really, really hard to stay in that direction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;and to stay that grounded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" class="important" &gt;it's just really hard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i thought seeing this would help but it just makes me uncomfortable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and i know that my situation makes everyone uncomfortable too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;because it is an uncomfortable situation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i wish i could change but i'm having trouble still&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and i don't think that i want to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;because when i saw this and these words,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i wanted to forget that i had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and that makes me think that i wanted to forget about hope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;-Post Monday, December 1st, 2008.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. After that post, things were stagnantly awful for awhile. Then, eventually things got better and I let them. Now, things are awful again. I got so low Thursday morning. And it's only Friday night and I can't even remember what the light looked like on Wednesday during the day, even though it rained the whole time in Washington. Even though, there was still light. I woke up in a hotel room where the bed was big and the sheets were warm. The elevator had jokes, my suitcase wasn't stressing me out. But then, right around the 7th hour of the bus ride back, my feelings started to sink. Now, it's 12:20 on a Friday. And I can't even remember what the light looked like that Wednesday afternoon. Or on Wednesday morning. Or Tuesday night. Or Monday. Or Sunday. Fuck. I picked up that needle yesterday evening and I don't know what to do now. I feel like a fake, smiling. I feel like a fake, crying. I'm still uncomfortable. But now, I'm uncomfortable because my arm itches for more. And I"m pretty sure that no one saw today, though I wore short sleeves just to punish myself. I just fucking hate myself right now. I really do. I'm just so stupid. I opened that drawer and I can't close it now. Damn, that was stupid. I can't talk about it with anyone - everyone who knew was proud. I can't disappoint people, again. I already did that, as soon as I came back. Hell. I don't know why I did it. But I did and now, I want more. Now, I want blood. Now, I want it again. The deep cuts, the itch during the day to run home to my drawer. Hell. That drawer is open, a little over two months later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-8681384298640004117?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8681384298640004117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=8681384298640004117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/8681384298640004117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/8681384298640004117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/jamie-tworkowskis-response-you-are-not.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/STPU8DU4qII/AAAAAAAAAE8/-IFMunjNXRw/s72-c/bd24360d89ca8ecc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-2797313574459732749</id><published>2009-02-21T00:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T00:04:17.309-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZ-LSd9RwFI/AAAAAAAAAS4/7bXVRVow2NE/s1600-h/image293armattack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZ-LSd9RwFI/AAAAAAAAAS4/7bXVRVow2NE/s400/image293armattack.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305112035461283922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-2797313574459732749?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2797313574459732749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=2797313574459732749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/2797313574459732749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/2797313574459732749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post_9471.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZ-LSd9RwFI/AAAAAAAAAS4/7bXVRVow2NE/s72-c/image293armattack.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-4655730415602732940</id><published>2009-02-21T00:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T00:03:29.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZ-LHGIzNXI/AAAAAAAAASw/8bRszSZKfpw/s1600-h/image298waterarm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 316px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZ-LHGIzNXI/AAAAAAAAASw/8bRszSZKfpw/s400/image298waterarm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305111840088601970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-4655730415602732940?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4655730415602732940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=4655730415602732940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/4655730415602732940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/4655730415602732940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post_21.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZ-LHGIzNXI/AAAAAAAAASw/8bRszSZKfpw/s72-c/image298waterarm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-6456985707397860516</id><published>2009-02-20T06:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T06:43:54.518-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i hate giving into weaknesses.&lt;br /&gt;i guess all that nothing&lt;br /&gt;turned into my needle&lt;br /&gt;last night.&lt;br /&gt;fuck.&lt;br /&gt;i was doing well, too.&lt;br /&gt;but as soon as i came back into town,&lt;br /&gt;everyone jumped down my throat&lt;br /&gt;with expectations&lt;br /&gt;and i missed that ledge a few times.&lt;br /&gt;so i tried a few other vices, first.&lt;br /&gt;just so you know, it wasn't my first try.&lt;br /&gt;but my drawer just looked so inviting&lt;br /&gt;with my head banging from all the pressure.&lt;br /&gt;and i wanted to quiet it down,&lt;br /&gt;so i slipped up.&lt;br /&gt;i didn't like it.&lt;br /&gt;but i did it.&lt;br /&gt;the problem was, it felt good&lt;br /&gt;after a minute.&lt;br /&gt;the problem was, i forgot&lt;br /&gt;that i do like it.&lt;br /&gt;fuck.&lt;br /&gt;i hate that drawer.&lt;br /&gt;i just couldn't put it down -&lt;br /&gt;dammit! i was doing so well, too.&lt;br /&gt;fuck that.&lt;br /&gt;i tried.&lt;br /&gt;damn. fuck.&lt;br /&gt;i hate this.&lt;br /&gt;i thought i had a grip.&lt;br /&gt;ahhh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-6456985707397860516?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6456985707397860516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=6456985707397860516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/6456985707397860516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/6456985707397860516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-hate-giving-into-weaknesses.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-5470171132354660463</id><published>2009-02-19T22:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T22:26:41.578-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just so you know, it doesn't sting so much this time. i guess since i've been away, i got a little more dressed up and put on a better attitude. i wrote you on the bus. i didn't finish it and i won't mail it. i probably wouldn't have anyways. but it's almost like i'm so tired right now that i'm numb. and i'm tired from being in Washington and i thought about you. i thought about you in the hotel, on the metro, in the elevator, on the bus. but i checked again tonight and it didn't sting so much this time. when i saw it, i just kind of shrugged and accepted it. moved on right away - didn't dwell. i have so much other stuff going on that i can't worry about you. and it's not that i don't worry about you or that i don't worry about us, it's just that chemistry is in front of me and euro is under that. music is playing out of my speakers, my coat itches a little. i have two tests tomorrow and a teen shabbat. i also want to go to appetite after school. so, it's not that i'm not thinking about you or that i'm not worried, it's just that i can't have you in me right now - my head has so much else that i can't. you've been living in there for so long and i thought when you two broke up that you'd get a bed in the corner of my mind, camp out for awhile. but you got back together, and you packed up your temporary suitcase that allowed me to convince myself that you might be staying for me. i don't know what i was expecting. except i know that i was expecting you to call, come, whatever. profess your love for me, the love you always had. saw pictures of you and your other girl too. made me think that maybe she had become just another girl in the picture, someone who changed after you for the worse and someone who you couldn't even talk about because you loved them.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i thought for a minute - considered deleting this entire post. then i looked inside myself for a second to check for bleeding via heart like the first time i heard. i don't even see a tear. my head, when i looked inside, was blank, except for the words i type and the lyrics in the background song playing loudly. it's not that i don't worry or that i don't want you for myself or that i've suddenly stopped loving you. it's just that i'm tired. i'm tired of telling the same story over and over again and you came up in conversation today, in photo, and tina accidentally called you ben. it made me laugh just a little. because when ben left, i scrambled to take pictures to remember him by. becuase when he left, i thought that i couldn't go on with my camera. but i did. you were next. i scrambled that day in the junkyard to capture it all and it makes me laugh now that those pictures are difficult to print. that they're tainted with light stains and out of order for the negatives. the ones i took more recently, ms. conner doesn't really like. C worthy. not A worthy. oh well. because i checked again for blood on my heart, and i don't feel anything. it's not that i don't care. it's just that .. i'm nothing now. it's not  numb because that would mean i was stung recently. it's not empty because that would mean i was full recently. it's just nothing. and that's sad. but it's 10:21 and i have chemistry and euro under that. and the same song playing on my computer. i love you, she has you again. she just should know not to let you go again because if she does, she's silly. i can't even type how great you are because the keys from those words are so worn down that i can't even see them anymore. so are the ones for 'i love you' but i keep putting those out there, just in case. whatever, i'm nothing now. and it's not tragic. and it's not something you all should cry over or ache upon. because it's just nothing now. it's just. nothing. and that's just it. nothing. it's nothing. i can't keep repeating the same sad story of 'me and you: the almost was (in my head)' because it's nothing. really, it's okay. it's just getting later and it's just getting less and less hard to put my thoughts in the back of my head for the night and look up bonds and vocabulary and the great depression. ironic. but not really. because it's not depressing. it's just that - it's just nothing. oh well. here's almost another weekend. i might call but i think i have to feel again first. for tonight, i'll let myself feel nothing, it's nice not being distracted by you and you not even knowing it. tonight, it'll just be nothing. tomorrow morning, it might hurt. i might be dizzy from all the nothing and i may see double from all the nothing. but for now, 10:26, it's nothing and i'm okay with that nothing. because it isn't anything. it's nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-5470171132354660463?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5470171132354660463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=5470171132354660463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5470171132354660463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5470171132354660463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-so-you-know-it-doesnt-sting-so.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-2969308535691138901</id><published>2009-02-14T10:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T10:58:55.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZbmwilpioI/AAAAAAAAASo/dV6T0ju4xUE/s1600-h/image286sunkiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 204px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZbmwilpioI/AAAAAAAAASo/dV6T0ju4xUE/s400/image286sunkiss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302679332868164226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;i could have kissed you, that day in that yard. we could have rolled with it, just the two of us out in the middle of nowhere. i could have kissed you that day, i could have kissed you that next day. i could have kissed you all the other days before that. i could have kissed you all the days after that. i could of, but i didn't. i should of, but i didn't. your lips looked so delicious to me, always did, always will. i could of told you that i loved you that day in that yard. i could of told that i always would. i could of, but i didn't. i should of, but i didn't. now, i can again. actually, i always could have but i was biting my tongue. i was biting my tongue that day in that yard and i really shouldn't have been. i kick myself all the time when i think about that day, about how i should have just run up to you and jump into your arms, despite everything that you were holding. because i love you. and i could have kissed you that day in that yard for hours. i could have kissed you that day in that car for days. i was so happy, i was so nervous. because my heart beat so fast that day that i was sure that it would have jumped out of my ribcage if i had let it, that it would have busted from my chest if i hadn't been holding my hands so tightly on my dress. i could have kissed you that day in that yard. i could of, but i didn't. i should of. but i didn't.  because i was scared that i would never be able to come back to that dusty ground if i did. because i was scared that i would never be able to leave that front car seat if i did. because i was scared that i would never be able to see you go back home alone if i did. i could of kissed you. i should of kissed you. i could kiss you. i should kiss you. and never let go because i love you and my heart is beating hard at the seams to say so. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-2969308535691138901?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2969308535691138901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=2969308535691138901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/2969308535691138901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/2969308535691138901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-could-have-kissed-you-that-day-in.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZbmwilpioI/AAAAAAAAASo/dV6T0ju4xUE/s72-c/image286sunkiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-6721562019287837983</id><published>2009-02-13T22:18:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T22:25:25.968-05:00</updated><title type='text'>synecdoche pt. 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;"autumn held so much discarded potential. leaves were pushed through with rough edged rakes rather than delicately picked and honored. sizzled away with one final degree was the heat of summer. the threat of winter scared people into thick knitted scarves. but, with the taste of warm apple cider lingering on their tongues, they promised that they wouldn't forget the season. that they wouldn't forget the calm that lulled them into a deep sleep for the night. that they wouldn't forget each other. it seemed like days passed without memory, that weeks were thrown away - but everything was better then."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-6721562019287837983?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6721562019287837983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=6721562019287837983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/6721562019287837983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/6721562019287837983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/autumn-held-so-much-discarded-potential.html' title='synecdoche pt. 4'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-5093832909012305021</id><published>2009-02-13T22:18:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T22:23:36.121-05:00</updated><title type='text'>synecdoche pt. 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;"summer air in the middle of the afternoon was most romantic. the way the tree leaves sang when a gust of wind hit them, how the sun spilled itself to every hillside to whip the flowers back upright; it was all so beautiful. she would always be partial to summer because of him, because of the time they had spent together, hours at a time. his words were scarce but when they came, they tumbled out of his mouth and flooded everything they touched with remarkable grace. when his lips closed, they kissed. it was always cold, always soothing. the anticipation of him kept her smile stretching the length of the state line. she had never felt more alive than when he was with her - everything was perfect" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-5093832909012305021?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5093832909012305021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=5093832909012305021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5093832909012305021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5093832909012305021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/summer-air-in-middle-of-afternoon-was.html' title='synecdoche pt. 3'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-5412273829576498231</id><published>2009-02-13T22:17:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T22:24:50.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>synecdoche pt. 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"driving on the highway in the springtime excited them. the windows were always down - they had bought the mustang like that and they weren't even sure if they actually did go up. with her long hair blowing a messy frame around her face, he often had a difficult time concentrating on the road. sometimes, they drove for long periods of time in silence. sometimes the only map they followed was the one of their hearts. riding on the cusp of winter and summer thrilled them beyond any explanation. they were between seasons and without a single care - everything was simple"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-5412273829576498231?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5412273829576498231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=5412273829576498231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5412273829576498231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5412273829576498231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/driving-on-highway-in-springtime.html' title='synecdoche pt. 2'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-1868423619497253022</id><published>2009-02-13T21:45:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T22:25:01.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>synecdoche pt. 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;"they city seemed extra cold that first winter. they sky was laced in layers of darkness all the time. the wind blew roughly across any face that dared to show off to the storm. even the buildings tried to shrink down small. the streetlights dimmed and the selectively placed streetlamp flickered weakly. drivers hardly ever changed their stubborn expressions. street corners housed the saddest of couples where boys were wrapped around their girls, heads close to each others, lips tight to keep out the clod from everywhere else around them. the warmest of fires still couldn't have held in the heat, though, for more than a few moments at a time. everyone was loneliest these days - everything outside was bare" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-1868423619497253022?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1868423619497253022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=1868423619497253022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/1868423619497253022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/1868423619497253022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/they-city-seemed-extra-cold-that-first.html' title='synecdoche pt. 1'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-3936023261844625396</id><published>2009-02-13T07:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T07:16:02.118-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZVkOXzWF6I/AAAAAAAAASg/6klzbiJaJBs/s1600-h/image246notebook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 357px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZVkOXzWF6I/AAAAAAAAASg/6klzbiJaJBs/s400/image246notebook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302254334368946082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uh.oh, i'm in a kissing mood.&lt;br /&gt;damn this weather,&lt;br /&gt;damn valentine's day.&lt;br /&gt;damn my overactive heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-3936023261844625396?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3936023261844625396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=3936023261844625396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/3936023261844625396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/3936023261844625396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/uh.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZVkOXzWF6I/AAAAAAAAASg/6klzbiJaJBs/s72-c/image246notebook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-5151700770006143004</id><published>2009-02-12T17:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T18:05:45.739-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZSq8WHcTsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/Ds8K-imOpaU/s1600-h/image268headphones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 223px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZSq8WHcTsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/Ds8K-imOpaU/s400/image268headphones.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302050615027584706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i love your music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i love you.&lt;br /&gt;you know i love your music.&lt;br /&gt;you don't know i love you.&lt;br /&gt;i tell you i love your music every chance i can&lt;br /&gt;i don't tell you i love you at all.&lt;br /&gt;it's sad, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that i have so much love for someone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who won't hear me say that&lt;br /&gt;today, or tomorrow, or next week&lt;br /&gt;or even next year, most likely.&lt;br /&gt;it makes me sad that&lt;br /&gt;inside and out,&lt;br /&gt;i love your music and i love you&lt;br /&gt;and you can only the half of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-5151700770006143004?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5151700770006143004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=5151700770006143004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5151700770006143004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5151700770006143004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-love-your-music.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZSq8WHcTsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/Ds8K-imOpaU/s72-c/image268headphones.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-3207387250288222830</id><published>2009-02-11T17:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T17:18:42.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZNOhaD1AQI/AAAAAAAAASA/n8ENdqf0q1w/s1600-h/image261birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 289px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZNOhaD1AQI/AAAAAAAAASA/n8ENdqf0q1w/s400/image261birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301667522183233794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you could have at least eaten it,&lt;br /&gt;you know.&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/34642352-3207387250288222830?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3207387250288222830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=3207387250288222830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/3207387250288222830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/3207387250288222830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-could-have-at-least-eaten-it-you.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZNOhaD1AQI/AAAAAAAAASA/n8ENdqf0q1w/s72-c/image261birthday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-1762197376652288397</id><published>2009-02-11T07:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T07:21:35.298-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZLB58g9wmI/AAAAAAAAARo/t9Eoax01s5g/s1600-h/image259raincloud.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 52px; height: 52px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZLB58g9wmI/AAAAAAAAARo/t9Eoax01s5g/s400/image259raincloud.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301512912609591906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"In these days with the world gettin colder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She spends more time sleeping over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Than I’d planned&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Tonight we're gonna order in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Drinkin wine and watchin CNN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; It’s dark, I know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But then again, it's the brightest thing I've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;From fireworks to fireplaces&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Summer stole what fall replaces&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And now we're people watching &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; All the people, people watching us right back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Standing by the missing signs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; At the CVS, by the checkout line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She puts her quiet hands in mine,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause she's the brightest thing I've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; When I’m covered in rain, rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And come December, Lydia left.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She mentioned something ‘bout it being for the best,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And I can't say I disagree, and its killing me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And now I’m standing facing west&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Tracing my fingers round a silhouette&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I haven’t gotten used to yet, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But it’s the brightest thing I’ve got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; When I’m covered in rain .."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Supposed to be in the 50's today, rain all throughout, high winds.&lt;br /&gt;Listening to the drops hit the panes and then John Mayer's serenade&lt;br /&gt;Really is beautiful, really doesn't make me want to go get clothes for school and put the books in my bag but I guess I will. Just let myself be carried away today. Maybe the wind will think I look appetizing today and lift me off the ground for awhile, let me play in the clouds, plump with rain just waiting to fall, cast down on unsuspecting heads and onto welcoming tongues.&lt;br /&gt;I'll catch the rain today and if you asked,&lt;br /&gt;I'd catch you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-1762197376652288397?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1762197376652288397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=1762197376652288397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/1762197376652288397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/1762197376652288397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/in-these-days-with-world-gettin-colder.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZLB58g9wmI/AAAAAAAAARo/t9Eoax01s5g/s72-c/image259raincloud.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-687218812538549722</id><published>2009-02-10T22:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T22:26:23.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIhateuploadingthesevideostheylookhorribledamnthatmoodlightingwhatthehelllaaaaaaaaah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-687218812538549722?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/687218812538549722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=687218812538549722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/687218812538549722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/687218812538549722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-403703648613470160</id><published>2009-02-10T15:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T16:24:03.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>212% selfish.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZHpeYqdkbI/AAAAAAAAARg/wQSSytLY4mk/s1600-h/image253onekiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZHpeYqdkbI/AAAAAAAAARg/wQSSytLY4mk/s400/image253onekiss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301274944617681330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but you aren't mine, are you?&lt;br /&gt;you won't give me candy hearts&lt;br /&gt;this year, i won't give you a valentine.&lt;br /&gt;but if you gave me your heart;&lt;br /&gt;ventricles, &lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;atria,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;pulmonary&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;valve&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;i'd take it all with the greatest of ease ..&lt;br /&gt;because i know that i'll always love you.&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/34642352-403703648613470160?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/403703648613470160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=403703648613470160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/403703648613470160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/403703648613470160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/212-selfish.html' title='212% selfish.'/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZHpeYqdkbI/AAAAAAAAARg/wQSSytLY4mk/s72-c/image253onekiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-7543969181439935175</id><published>2009-02-10T15:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T15:51:26.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"It does not count if you believe in yourself when it's easy to believe in yourself. It does not count if you believe the world can be a better place when the future looks bright. It does not count if you think you're going to make it when the finish line is right in front of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It counts when it's hard to believe in yourself, when it looks like the world's going to end and you've still got a long way to go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's when it counts. That's when it matters the most."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-http://pleasefindthis.blogspot.com/&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I know you didn't write this for me, I'm not the "you" in the "I Wrote This For You" but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you &lt;/span&gt;help people through their days, and today you helped me. I wasn't sure how best to explain my feelings this afternoon but this is perfect. So, thank you. Thank you for giving me the words to explain to myself how I feel - all the time, it feels like I don't have the words I want so I just write and write and write until I come up with something I do want to say. But today, I tried to write out words to describe this afternoon's feelings. But - for now, these words are the words that I needed to hear, to say to myself, to say to anyone who is listening. I'm really trying to believe in myself - I'm really trying to believe in myself. It's hard. Because you're right, it isn't easy to believe in yourself when things aren't easy. I'm trying so hard to believe in myself but it would help if people believed in me, if I knew people believed in me. I'm sure if I asked them, some would say yes, some no and some wouldn't answer me - but I have to know which to believe. And I think I can only believe myself - I have to believe that I can do all that I want to do, despite it all. I have to believe in myself. I have to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-7543969181439935175?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7543969181439935175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=7543969181439935175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/7543969181439935175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/7543969181439935175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/it-does-not-count-if-you-believe-in.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-349363662153024212</id><published>2009-02-10T07:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T07:19:31.648-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZFwS2gxRJI/AAAAAAAAARQ/xhljEs6aoNI/s1600-h/image240umbrella.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZFwS2gxRJI/AAAAAAAAARQ/xhljEs6aoNI/s400/image240umbrella.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301141705564701842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;supposed to be in the mid 50's today.&lt;br /&gt;and then it's supposed to rain tonight.&lt;br /&gt;for awhile, nothing revolved around you -&lt;br /&gt;the weather was just rain, snow, wind, sun&lt;br /&gt;now it all reminds me of you&lt;br /&gt;of your words, of your smiles, of your quivers&lt;br /&gt;today it's supposed to be warm.&lt;br /&gt;that'll remind me of our best memories&lt;br /&gt;and when it rains tonight,&lt;br /&gt;i might cry. or i might think about crying to you.&lt;br /&gt;and then i might cry.&lt;br /&gt;call and try and stop me&lt;br /&gt;is a hopeful thing to say&lt;br /&gt;because i don't think you will.&lt;br /&gt;but ask me how i am, ask me if i've made any rain of my own tonight&lt;br /&gt;so i know you're out there, listening really to me.&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/34642352-349363662153024212?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/349363662153024212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=349363662153024212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/349363662153024212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/349363662153024212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/supposed-to-be-in-mid-50s-today.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZFwS2gxRJI/AAAAAAAAARQ/xhljEs6aoNI/s72-c/image240umbrella.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-782965572276564375</id><published>2009-02-09T07:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T07:19:43.109-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZAeHtNIBDI/AAAAAAAAARA/czr3WUra1Zo/s1600-h/image242phonecall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 333px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZAeHtNIBDI/AAAAAAAAARA/czr3WUra1Zo/s400/image242phonecall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300769879157638194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i miss you more than i should,&lt;br /&gt;more than i thought i could -&lt;br /&gt;can't get my mind off of you.&lt;br /&gt;[i know you're scared that i'll soon be over it all]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;see, my words are tired. i'm tired. i got through last week like *that*&lt;br /&gt;but why do i feel like this week will be worse? i think because last week, i was reeling in the glory of the weekend and i might have maybe just a little thought that this weekend that just passed, would be filled with you too. next weekend has the possibility of that - but it won't happen. first of all, i can't go back so soon due to the parental unit. second of all, i can NOT sit in a room full of couples or crushes or couple crushes for two hours - watch them cozy up on the couch when i snag a table near the front to film you and then think about you running into my arms at the end of your set. but you won't. you'll go to her. and that makes me sad and tired and scared. it also makes me realize that i miss you more than i should but not more than i thought i could - i only think i could keep missing you and that turns into more and more and more. i wish you followed by saying that you know that i'm scared but you won't be over it all anytime AT all.. but you won't. because you have her arms to hold first, her mouth to kiss first, her words to repeat first. let me know when you do, by the way. because three weeks ago, you told me you were practically over it and now i'm pretty sure that you're just getting further under her .. so, let me know. i want to know when my broken heart can break again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-782965572276564375?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/782965572276564375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=782965572276564375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/782965572276564375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/782965572276564375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-miss-you-more-than-i-should-more-than.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SZAeHtNIBDI/AAAAAAAAARA/czr3WUra1Zo/s72-c/image242phonecall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-2359206618020652923</id><published>2009-02-08T22:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T22:48:36.568-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SY-lcRWnEZI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/h0M53yvOwhk/s1600-h/image153busy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SY-lcRWnEZI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/h0M53yvOwhk/s400/image153busy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300637191551521170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have work to do; books to read, papers to write, equations to solve. i should be preparing for next weekend's trip; studying up, folding clothes, telling teachers. somehow, i'm managing to avoid most all of this. because just because i didn't answer right away didn't mean that i wasn't interested or that i didn't like it - it meant that i wanted to linger in your words, in your song. relish in having power for once. but just because i told you that i was busy didn't mean i didn't love it and it doesn't mean that i don't love you. because i do. and honestly, i was just happy to be busy with something for a few minutes that cooled my mind from being wrapped around you - it's exhausting loving you .. because every day that i wake up and realize you won't call that morning, or you won't laugh that afternoon, or you won't comfort me that evening, i just want to roll myself back up in my sheets and pretend like the rest of the world isn't out there anymore, that it's just me and my thoughts. because there, i'm with you.  there, you love me and you hold me and tell me beautiful, quiet things. there, you're mine and i'm yours. there, we love each other. but when i put my feet on the carpet and rub at my eyes, the dreams slowly start to fade out - and i busy myself. but that doesn't mean that i don't love you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-2359206618020652923?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2359206618020652923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=2359206618020652923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/2359206618020652923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/2359206618020652923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-have-work-to-do-books-to-read-papers.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SY-lcRWnEZI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/h0M53yvOwhk/s72-c/image153busy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-325462795630378852</id><published>2009-02-08T13:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T13:15:08.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SY8hJTkpJrI/AAAAAAAAAQw/7ffzQa60OEI/s1600-h/image239shelf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SY8hJTkpJrI/AAAAAAAAAQw/7ffzQa60OEI/s400/image239shelf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300491730194867890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-325462795630378852?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/325462795630378852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=325462795630378852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/325462795630378852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/325462795630378852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post_08.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zG448j-tqn4/SY8hJTkpJrI/AAAAAAAAAQw/7ffzQa60OEI/s72-c/image239shelf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34642352.post-5601422942150934304</id><published>2009-02-08T07:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T07:57:53.342-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;"I won't regret saying this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; This thing that I'm saying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Is it better than keeping my mouth shut,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; That goes without saying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Call, break it off &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Maybe you would have been something I'd be good at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; But now we'll never know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; I won't be sad but, in case I'll go there everyday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; To make myself feel bad, there's a chance I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; I won't be out long but I still think it better if&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; You take your time coming over here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; I think that's for the best"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;-Tegan and Sara "Call It Off" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the weather is getting warmer but my heart is still pretty cold from the summer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34642352-5601422942150934304?l=stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5601422942150934304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34642352&amp;postID=5601422942150934304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5601422942150934304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34642352/posts/default/5601422942150934304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stopstopthistrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-wont-regret-saying-this-this-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>StopThisTrain</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06460184079480309718</uri><email>blueskies372@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13267573330229611847'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>