tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62083185885093423002024-02-20T17:08:55.205-08:00Shape of Colorsalanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-57665001957605034092012-03-17T23:55:00.002-07:002012-03-18T00:15:49.062-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lu76r04VeA1qbnh1oo1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 967px; height: 644px;" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lu76r04VeA1qbnh1oo1_500.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I love you.</span><br /></span></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-71650855865213113472011-04-03T10:08:00.000-07:002011-04-03T10:18:32.426-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lg7d7jP1cZ1qcvxkso1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 824px; height: 559px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3394/4573217550_c30940dfed_z.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i56.tinypic.com/w8b80g.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 824px; height: 559px;" src="http://i56.tinypic.com/w8b80g.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">I wanted to take care of you</span></span><br /><br />You never allowed me.<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-77859945038849417152011-03-29T21:18:00.000-07:002011-03-29T21:20:16.716-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_lit0rnCDYQ1qdabiuo1_1280.png?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ6IHWSU3BX3X7X3Q&Expires=1301545061&Signature=JJxp6wV3pfpB4m%2F%2FJ7QOtkHjjBU%3D"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 690px;" src="http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_lit0rnCDYQ1qdabiuo1_1280.png?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ6IHWSU3BX3X7X3Q&Expires=1301545061&Signature=JJxp6wV3pfpB4m%2F%2FJ7QOtkHjjBU%3D" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sitting, contemplating of the precise words to use in my articles. It's the usual. You're the usual.alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-80687254338459804252011-03-06T20:34:00.000-08:002011-03-09T11:41:04.503-08:001. For you, I rewrote that postcard so many times. You won't ever know until I surrender myself to reveal this to you. And I've hated that I've revealed so much already, with thoughts pouring into the idea that our space would be filled. I quickly shift my emotions involuntarily to whichever contact you make, yet I've managed to think you're somehow worth it. I dislike seeing how those around me are in the same position as me, yet I intrude this sort of commonality with a cut that spreads hope for different outcomes. I can't take this but I can't reach for you so bluntly. I imagine what I want to happen, but instead receive excuses on why you should leave. I don't even want to question you on your own truth, your current emotions have been salient anyhow. I want you to let yourself be loved. Staying over with you is one of the most memorable and enjoyable moments I've ever had.alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-28578116976514967892011-01-17T12:27:00.000-08:002011-01-17T12:29:25.301-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i51.tinypic.com/2rmldhz.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 805px; height: 510px;" src="http://i51.tinypic.com/2rmldhz.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-33655922873314446922010-11-26T07:52:00.000-08:002010-11-26T22:31:24.833-08:00Your seams were undone. I tried, and all I wanted is for everything to be the way it could have. After trying to tie up the loose ends, in hopes of crafting a new piece, you started tugging the threads a little too late and I began feeding off every one of the flecks you've sprinkled on me. Why now? I keep taking and taking, and the more I take, the more you're warmly nested in my mind. I'll leave things to be. I'm not intrepid enough. And if I were, I would be terrified unconditionally.alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-30232348133898026082010-08-28T23:20:00.000-07:002010-08-28T23:30:21.395-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4095/4928408828_9ba2702b60_b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 742px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4095/4928408828_9ba2702b60_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />3. At the moment, there's some sort of hanging guilt for not necessarily knowing what to release of you. I guess it's not even so much that I have anything to say about you that I don't want you to know about. This is mainly what my posts are for, except you know so much already. I enjoy my time with you so much and am gradually growing attached to you. I've yet to know where I stand with you, although the idea is clear already. You provide much more security than I could have ever imagined and are something close to ideal with just being yourself. I love you.<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-80413868556113513232010-08-11T17:03:00.000-07:002010-08-11T17:09:12.229-07:00Quelquejour<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/2yv0vwg.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 715px; height: 478px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/2yv0vwg.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Regardless of how hyped up you are, how excessively positively reviewed you are, how your magic is no secret (via public opinion), how all of your picturesque locations induce anyone to tears of disbelief in your beauty, some day...<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-25201838864900897032010-07-24T10:19:00.001-07:002010-07-24T10:45:20.348-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l5ew3jN9E41qau50i.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 704px; height: 497px;" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l5ew3jN9E41qau50i.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div>This blog has definitely transformed into something now required to contain depth at every post. I like it though, and I don't care if any of you readers mind, let alone, even read what I type. I'll let this post be dedicated to various people whom will surely never read what I've to say about them, maybe they'll know some other time.<br /><br />1. I love you, and I used to not get along with you that much at some point, but it seems like our separation brings us closer. I'm not sure if you feel it, but I know that I do. Maybe you should know that pessimism doesn't help. To be honest, you dragged me down and a few others to such a low level that all we settled down to was apathy, and closure. I understand that distance is a barrier, but you can not repress yourself for it. If nothing rises, then nothing rises. You simply accept it. However, you manage to complain and if things don't go your way, there's nothing in between for you. Learn to not look at everything either black or white, the world doesn't suck. Neither does your life, for Christ's sake. I'm not going to acquire your qualities anymore. I was too unsettled perhaps for as long as time can remember, but I think I creaked open a door. I'm hoping that you find at least a tint of fulfillment soon. I'm always here for you.<br /><br />2. You're the only one I have the easiest accessibility to at the moment. However, something we both lack of is fun. When someone's missing, our whole environment changes. I'm sure you're aware of it too, and most of the time you're the one I least know has any feelings present. We open up to eachother, sure. I think you're still trying to find your way through.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">not done with this yet</span><br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-78883175926956041322010-07-17T10:50:00.000-07:002010-07-17T11:14:11.893-07:00<center><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i32.tinypic.com/oqgo5v.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 673px; height: 450px;" src="http://i32.tinypic.com/oqgo5v.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xOh9SmISxCk&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xOh9SmISxCk&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="673" height="25"></embed></object></center>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-48718354141761540312010-04-23T16:58:00.000-07:002010-04-23T17:12:17.750-07:00Here's for humanity<div style="text-align: justify;"> Take away the pains of being too human. You either face unrequited feelings from someone; Sometimes it's you who lacks of reciprocal, causing hurt any way. You want something badly, and yet can not attain it. All that this natural instinct provides is misery. Any way you follow the rules, you end up the same. Even life is this way. Stay for a while, then diminish. You'll stay in the vast records of a beautiful world, but I unlike others, dares not ask the question that precedes. That is why I want to stay away from everything that humanity has amounted to. This does not necessarily imply I rather excplore life through the being of some inanimate subject, I merely possess the curiosity. What I would like to prevent is the closeness of sentiments. Why does a dip in the inexplicable arena called life guarantee uneasiness to every single being? This is not a complaint that inclines towards smooth sailing circumstances, I do understand the difficulties that surface. But every action leads to it, and I do not want to be a part of it. My being is too unprepared.<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-8735822157449301852010-03-07T14:23:00.000-08:002010-03-07T14:44:56.831-08:00Take care<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >I wish I could organize myself, in everything.<br />My conscious is killing me, and it will not go away.<br />Too much insanity, and the past has been lost.<br />Please be good to me.<br /></span></span></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-62584042676956199092010-02-15T12:43:00.000-08:002010-02-15T13:06:06.494-08:00I can't seem to make it mineWell, let's see. I think I've done it, I think I am learning. Now I want to figure out how to manage what I aim for. I'm utterly tired nowadays, all I want to do is either lie in bed or lie anywhere that is comfortable next to a specific someone. How did it even amount to this? I have no idea. But I can not let this comfort invade nearly all aspects of thought and activity. I need to hold on to even the thinnest string to climb towards my net of dreams.alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-41805316296357094262010-01-23T15:05:00.000-08:002010-01-23T15:15:09.018-08:00Infancia<div align="center"><a href="http://img482.imageshack.us/img482/1318/96aze5.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 720px; HEIGHT: 432px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://img482.imageshack.us/img482/1318/96aze5.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://img246.imageshack.us/img246/492/121axq3.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 720px; HEIGHT: 432px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://img246.imageshack.us/img246/492/121axq3.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://img171.imageshack.us/img171/8894/107ale8.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 720px; HEIGHT: 432px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://img171.imageshack.us/img171/8894/107ale8.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://img440.imageshack.us/img440/1108/135arm6.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 720px; HEIGHT: 432px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://img440.imageshack.us/img440/1108/135arm6.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://img482.imageshack.us/img482/553/156acu5.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 720px; HEIGHT: 432px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://img482.imageshack.us/img482/553/156acu5.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="justify">My favorite childhood movie and book series. I was obsessed, not only with the plot and all its wonderous ventures but also the actor that plays the role of Klaus Baudelaire, Liam Aiken.</div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-45844594093430977962010-01-18T15:18:00.000-08:002010-01-18T15:20:17.225-08:00New<div align="center"><a href="http://i46.tinypic.com/6fw1fq.png"><img style="WIDTH: 684px; HEIGHT: 685px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/6fw1fq.png" /></a> </div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-10092980276349873632010-01-14T18:20:00.000-08:002010-01-14T18:36:37.692-08:00Je conaisse le chemin<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://13.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kw5q9tObb11qarvi2o1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 681px; height: 453px;" src="http://13.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kw5q9tObb11qarvi2o1_500.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://19.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kw9j63CtVR1qzoozmo1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 681px; height: 458px;" src="http://19.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kw9j63CtVR1qzoozmo1_500.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" ><br />You came along and you cut me loose</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Things are not as complicated as they are set out to be. It's time for changes. A friend told me of her "security blanket". I can not help but concur, you are my definite security blanket and I will never, ever forget that. Now, I must read a few more pages of Into the Wild before I study for a history quiz tomorrow. I will re-read the whole book if it's necessary. Something to remember: Happiness is not only an automatic reaction. You do not need a reason to be happy.<br /></div></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-4091132199391341532010-01-07T13:59:00.000-08:002010-01-07T14:21:04.137-08:00Here<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2517/4221545016_d3d412063a_b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 699px; height: 466px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2517/4221545016_d3d412063a_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I want to travel. I want to make it happen. It's my dream, to graduate high school, get out of a comfortable life, become the hardest-working person I know. Know that if there's a will, there's a way. Indulge in this lifestyle, find myself and grow into something I aspire to be. Not lose myself, not even mature, I still want to be the person I am. But be more explorative with myself and my surroundings. I'm naive, but I'm okay with it. I won't let my experiences harden me to stone, if not, sculpture the account of someone that does not want this life to go to waste. Learn new things. Get out. To not be lazy for once, but very active and always seeking for what precedes. If I work hard enough, I know I can acquire what I want.<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-40350926132021799342010-01-05T11:33:00.000-08:002010-01-05T11:35:00.685-08:00Growing up<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i50.tinypic.com/1iigb6.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 715px; height: 502px;" src="http://i50.tinypic.com/1iigb6.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The scattered bits whirled into a subtle wind of exhilaration. This, of course, was only an image that was to be touched by my mind. It merely blossomed a sense of more youthful days, when my surroundings were fully seeped into my being as unexplainable beauty. When happiness was wafted for no reason at all. Every single atom was deeply absorbed like slow respiration. To hold on to hope, it’s beautiful. To desire something so much and for so long is fathomable. It can either be adjusted in a state of comfort but detachment. It can have you faded into endless horizons of anxiety or thought. It can make you miss someone like you have never imagined possible. The richest soils interlock with the rough and unknown surface of concrete when it’s time for it to come. And there’s still more dirt ahead. That’s growing up for you.<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-17462876556962098552010-01-03T11:18:00.000-08:002010-01-03T11:26:11.754-08:00Comfortable<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i49.tinypic.com/2uj6qlw.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 584px; height: 389px;" src="http://i49.tinypic.com/2uj6qlw.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/33th5xe.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 584px; height: 389px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/33th5xe.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />"And to wake up with the sun in your eyes and a little bit of cold in your bones"<br /><br />Photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/1parpadeo/">parpadeo</a><br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-35992281193097502172010-01-01T09:40:00.000-08:002010-01-01T14:02:27.462-08:00twenty-ten<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i50.tinypic.com/2s6k4e8.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 146px;" src="http://i50.tinypic.com/2s6k4e8.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />HAPPY NEW YEAR</span></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></span>" I be doin' alright, I be doin' okay, and as long as I could live to see another day"<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">This is what's up: I'm not going to dedicate a combination of words to describe my last year. I had my share of difficulties, emotions, memories... the list is infinite. One thing I'd love to say though, is <span style="font-weight: bold;">appreciate and take advantage of whatever you can</span>. I guarantee it will entail goodness. Stand up, fall down. You're free.<br />Keep on, 2010.<br /><br />P.S. I took the above quote from "Doin' Alright" by CunningLynguists. I'm usually not tuned into rap, but I thought the chorus was ideal and extending musical horizons is always refreshing<br /></div></div></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-9654054395663138642009-12-20T18:12:00.000-08:002009-12-20T18:17:49.141-08:00Vendredi<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2614/4196816378_aeaba61553_b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 672px; height: 450px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2614/4196816378_aeaba61553_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2689/4196875794_3dbf2590ff_b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 673px; height: 449px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2689/4196875794_3dbf2590ff_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >You can't believe it, you were always singing along</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >It was so easy</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" > and the words so sweet</span></span><br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-65324982319043879742009-12-16T16:40:00.001-08:002009-12-17T18:28:56.998-08:00Ut em<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2564/4079969287_95e66970d6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 434px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2564/4079969287_95e66970d6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3583/3553765509_39a24f2912.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 478px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3583/3553765509_39a24f2912.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.ffffound.com/static-data/assets/6/9debc49115431f4d3b58d1f720744fc74288014c_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 640px;" src="http://img.ffffound.com/static-data/assets/6/9debc49115431f4d3b58d1f720744fc74288014c_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://17.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kudxrxITEi1qznu1yo1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 511px;" src="http://17.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kudxrxITEi1qznu1yo1_500.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://23.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kstrqug2Xj1qzsb00o1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 466px;" src="http://23.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kstrqug2Xj1qzsb00o1_500.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.tinypic.com/6hkzdd.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 549px;" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/6hkzdd.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xFm6-2MWhQc/Ss-8Py6eVhI/AAAAAAAACz0/ZN_RC58IidQ/s576/11gqclg.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 432px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xFm6-2MWhQc/Ss-8Py6eVhI/AAAAAAAACz0/ZN_RC58IidQ/s576/11gqclg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2430/3929902818_b22388e786_o.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 488px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2430/3929902818_b22388e786_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Sanquem.<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-19489200423777898312009-12-14T16:48:00.000-08:002009-12-14T17:08:04.354-08:00'Cause it's all me now<div style="text-align: justify;">I need rest. I need positivity. I need direction. I need some piece of mind. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I need this winter break</span>. I need to study hard. I need to pass my classes. I want good grades. I want to pass my AP tests. I want to be with my mother right now. I want to be what I desire to be. I want to sleep. I want to retrieve the inspiration I lost. I want to feel comfortable. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I want you.</span> I miss you. I want to lay on my bed next to you. I wish I weren't self-conscious. I wish I excelled at anything I do. I wish I weren't afraid of letting people in. I wish my home was nice. I wish I could be nearly as smart as you. I wish I could be close friends with you. I wish I could know what to do. But most of all, I hate not knowing.<br /></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-27568283464654065712009-12-12T18:46:00.000-08:002009-12-13T11:31:25.805-08:00One more week<center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3371/3328520830_bbf5bdd193_o.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 680px; height: 511px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3371/3328520830_bbf5bdd193_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://10.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ku15zjAgCi1qzdd4bo1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 680px; height: 452px;" src="http://10.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ku15zjAgCi1qzdd4bo1_500.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br />& I'm sure I'll be doing fine<br /></div></center>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208318588509342300.post-4211374279501262322009-12-07T18:07:00.000-08:002009-12-08T20:34:52.882-08:00Numero trois<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2147/2125079367_410e06eb70_b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 721px; height: 478px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2147/2125079367_410e06eb70_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Little wet tears on my baby's shoulders</span></span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">1) "I've just been thinking too much lately." Seriously. Here presented through words is the account of an over analytical freak that inclines towards perfection. Again, how is achievement really achieved if there is no failure? I can not guess. I'm tired of being tired. The mind is known to do anything but synchronize thoughts. Stress. One more time. It eats you up. Just to help out a friend I told him, "Even if I sucked, I tell myself I did my best. That elevates my mood even if it's a bit". All the advice that is given is never followed by the giver. Don't you ever feel like being so utterly involved in your own bubble makes you become detached from all the REAL situations that are happening out there?<br /><br />2) Oh hey, I sometimes doubt you, but I was told you might be just what I need. I was contemplating the notion, I still need to figure myself out. Despite my little cluttered up head, I smile because of the effortlessly adorable way you seem. Your character presents such an interesting image. "All I know is, I really enjoyed my time."<br /></div></div>alanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118265740781552295noreply@blogger.com0