<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201</id><updated>2011-12-28T15:50:23.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>See right through me...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-6814758234941834907</id><published>2011-12-28T15:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T15:50:23.632+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I not be ice?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We have gotten pretty close these few months. And now, I think we're drifting. Apart. I've never had a friend care so much about me before. Even H, whom I used to think was the best I could ever get already. She said we're drifting apart, and I think I can feel it too. I'm not sure myself. I don't know what this feeling is. It just feels like, she doesn't like me as much. Like she doesn't want me anymore. Or should I say, she doesn't want us anymore. She says we won't. Won't drift too far. She says she won't abandon me. She says she won't ever dislike me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I know she won't. I believe her. But sometimes things just ain't within our control. I wish I can keep her here with me forever. I wish she would love me forever. I wish we can share anything with each other forever. But it feels like the sea's taking her away. And it doesn't want to bring me along.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I'm scared. I don't want to be left alone. I can't imagine what it'll be like without her again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;But at the same time, I think, maybe there's nothing wrong with us drifting further apart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;In the first place, she was borrowed. We were borrowed. This was borrowed. Our friendship was borrowed. These past few months were borrowed. Maybe I don't even deserve this friend. I'm too horrible for her. I don't deserve her love for me. I'm just going back to how I was a few months ago. She wasn't even mine to begin with. This happiness, this sense of security, this friendship, this care, wasn't even meant for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I don't even know how we got so close. Looking back now, it didn't start with anything. We knew each other for slightly less than two years before we started getting so close. Wait, getting isn't the right word. I guess became is a better word. We became so close. I can't even remember the process. How did we even get so close? I'm not into Jpop, I don't read manga or watch anime. Come to think of it, our friendship seems a little sudden.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;But of course, I know why it got this way. A few weeks ago, Y confessed that she started getting close and talking to me because she felt I was interesting.That I was hiding many secrets. That is the real reason why she started talking to me. I cried for at least an hour after that. I felt like I wasn't worth anything. I wasn't worth such an amazing person wanting to talk to me, wanting to care for me. She just wanted to dig out my secrets. It felt like that, at least. But I guess she didn't, after we became close. But that time hurt like mad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;This time hurts like crazy. I'm feeling the distance, and I'm feeling the currents taking her away. I'm feeling the chill. She's getting cold, when she feels like it. I feel like a toy. She can just become ice when she feels like it, and be warm water if she's in the mood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Okay, after talking for so long, I think I know what I'm scared of already. I'm scared of becoming ice, like she is. If I become ice too, we'll just be two blocks of ice put away in the freezer. No one can help us again. No one can break the ice, if I become ice too. And we'll stay like that forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;But if she's ice, I wonder if I can not be a block if ice too. If she's ice, will I be able to continue being warm water?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I don't want to become ice. I don't want us to become ice.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235691963895413201-6814758234941834907?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/6814758234941834907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/12/can-i-not-be-ice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/6814758234941834907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/6814758234941834907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/12/can-i-not-be-ice.html' title='Can I not be ice?'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-5267512787952193825</id><published>2011-10-23T22:53:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T15:49:58.702+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I will never be good enough</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I went shopping with H today. A guy came up and asked if I would mind if he took my friend away, because she was very cute. Yeah, then he asked for H's number, and.. Yeah, said she was cute and all.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Yeah, it's supposed to be nothing. But when everyone places their attention on that glamorous dancer, who ever thinks of the spotlights? Yeah, the spotlights. It's because of the spotlights the dancer shines. It's because of of the polisher the nails glitter. It's because of me, that makes her look all the more perfect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;No, don't get me wrong. I don't mean to say she owes it to me. It's just that she shines so much, and when placed beside her, I make her look all the more perfect with my oh-so-uncountable flaws.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;When that guy said she was cute and asked for her number, and when another girl was right there with her, you can't blame her for feeling upset right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I'm not even worth the time for a compliment. I'm not even worth the time for someone to take a second look at. When people come near, it's all because of the people around me. They just want to get close to the people around me, right?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I'm scared I can't take this anymore. I know I can't measure up, and everyone around me just keeps reminding me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;But I think I also found out something else. I've not been out with H for a long time already, and today I found it all back. I found back those feelings, where I don't ever want to lose her. She's just so important to me. I can never ever lose her. Today, I got back all the feelings I once felt. No wonder she was so important.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Yes, I guess I sort of lost those feelings then. It's because I haven't been with her for a while, I guess. But today, yes. I cannot do without her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;So what do I do with the roaring me that wants to be as good? I just have to kick her out. I really really want her out of my life. I don't want to be envious of H anymore. She means so much to me, and I don't want to be thinking of how great she is all the time. I mean, I promise I will wish her all the best forever, but with that me being envious of her, I'm actually scared that one day I will lose it. Lose the well wishes I have for her, lose the rationality, lose her. I don't want that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;SO, I have to stop being envious, yeah? It's just so hard not to be, when she's just so perfect sitting beside you. But she's so important, I think I don't mind being the dull one beside her, all just so she can be friends with me forever.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Okay, I know I can never be as good.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I hope I get over it soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Oh gosh, please! Stop being so hung up over it! You can never be as good! You will never be good enough for anyone!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Yeah,I will never be good enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235691963895413201-5267512787952193825?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/5267512787952193825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-will-never-be-good-enough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/5267512787952193825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/5267512787952193825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-will-never-be-good-enough.html' title='I will never be good enough'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-3559609007771124078</id><published>2011-10-22T22:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T22:07:04.318+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm afraid it'll show</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I know it's wrong but she's just so pretty and everyone just buzzes around her. I love her so much. H, I really do. Believe me when I say you're one of the most important people in my life but I'm serious, I just can't help it. I will always be here for you and be the first to wish you all the best. I promise I will, and I swear it'll be real and genuine, from the bottom of my heart. But please, just let me cry in a corner when I see how wonderful you are. Please, don't blame me for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I will wish you all the best, I won't wish you were any worse off, but I'll secretly wish I were you. I'm sorry.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235691963895413201-3559609007771124078?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/3559609007771124078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-afraid-itll-show.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/3559609007771124078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/3559609007771124078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-afraid-itll-show.html' title='I&apos;m afraid it&apos;ll show'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-4408127270439259530</id><published>2011-10-22T19:30:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T19:31:00.434+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Please don't, I don't deserve it</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Readers were unexpected. Thanks, people (: .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, despite all those complications I'm feeling right now, I cheered me up yesterday. He didn't do anything. He just said a mere 8 words. &lt;i&gt;You are one of my top 5 friends.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Yeah, it probably wasn't anything to many people, but yeah. It was something to me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Happy as I am, but I can't help wondering why he considers me a good friend. There's nothing good about me. He says I'm caring, but the thing is, I don't think I am. I don't know how to say this. Yeah, I am, but actually, no, I'm not.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I wonder if anyone will ever get it. It's like, I appear to care, but sometimes when I look back and ask myself &lt;i&gt;Why do you care about him&lt;/i&gt;, I cannot tell myself &lt;i&gt;Because he is my friend.&lt;/i&gt; I don't know, sometimes the answer is &lt;i&gt;Because I want to look like I care.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I feel so..fake. Sometimes I care not because I care, I care because I want to let certain people, or maybe all of them, see and think that I'm a nice person. I care because I don't want people to hate me. I care because I want my friends always with me. I care, because I don't want to appear like I don't.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;But actually, I don't care as much as I appear to.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;That's why. That's why I don't deserve anyone. No one should trust me, no one should want to be my friend, no one should ever treat me with sincerity. I don't deserve it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;When I do something everyone perceives as nice, I sometimes stop and ask myself why I'm doing that. &lt;i&gt;Why are you helping her, Why are you getting upset that she is unhappy.&lt;/i&gt; Yes, the usual answer is &lt;i&gt;Because I care.&lt;/i&gt; That's what I would say. But this isn't the purpose of this blog. This place is meant for me to be me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;So, here goes: &lt;i&gt;Because I want to appear like I care. Because I feel bad if I don't.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Yes, that's the kind of horrible bitch I am.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Don't, I am not a good friend. Don't think I am. Go away. Run. Run before I hurt you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235691963895413201-4408127270439259530?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/4408127270439259530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/please-dont-i-dont-deserve-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/4408127270439259530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/4408127270439259530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/please-dont-i-dont-deserve-it.html' title='Please don&apos;t, I don&apos;t deserve it'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-3470101565577953969</id><published>2011-10-21T21:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T21:53:49.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't like me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;H and S are two of the most important people in my life. Y too. But today I started thinking about them, and I was so glad everyone was out so I could just let the tears flow. They are all awesome people, and they are themselves. And it feels like I am no one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H and S love manga, and they cosplay. They are so skinny, and they look great in any costume. They hired a photographer to take pictures for them recently in their cosplay costumes, and they looked so wonderful. Y loves Jpop. Nana Mizuki is her favourite. And it isn't just them. Everyone has something they like to do, be it Kpop, a favourite star or band, drawing, manga, anime, anything. But I have nothing. And I mean it when I say I have nothing. Absolutely nothing I like to do. I loves to bboy, E and M love anime, C and Q love SHINee. Everyone. Everyone has something they like to do. But why is it that I am the one that doesn't even have a hobby? I'm so weird. I don't like this. It feels like, I'm not anyone at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I like? I just like being around my friends, eating really delicious desserts like chocolate lava cake, watching sweet dramas, reading sweet novels, being in the rain, being on love.givesmehope and sixbillionsecrets, shopping, and nothing much, really. And I hate myself. I have nothing special that I like to do, like everyone else does. It &amp;nbsp;makes me feel so..left out. Why am I me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was H. She is just so perfect. She's so pretty, and she has so many people around her all the time. Girls and guys alike simply like her. No, I am not jealous, just envious. She is just so great. She isn't exactly a very kind person, and she can be a bitch when she wants to. She isn't exactly rich, but she can afford the manga she wants. She isn't exactly that kind of popular campus babe, but she is just pretty enough to make me feel inferior and just popular enough to have many popular people talk to her all the time. She isn't exactly perfect, but just wonderful enough to be the person I want to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me? I am ugly, and 7kg more than what H feels she should not exceed. I have pimples, whereas H complains about a few blackheads. My hair isn't straight, not is it smooth, and hers is long and planning to rebond. I have fewer friends than anyone else, I think. H and S have been addicted to manga since a year ago, and do you think I'll feel nothing seeing them with their manga? No, I do. I feel tempted to start too, but here's my secret: My family isn't rich and I'm scared I will overspend on manga. I have nothing. Oh yeah, I do. I have to take 8 pills a day, and 13 on weekends. And another half on alternate days.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Okay, I bet it's obvious now. It's H, isn't it? Yeah, she's an important person in my life. She's great to me, and yes, we're close. Close enough for me to be happy for her whenever she's saved up enough for a new series of manga, and close enough for me to want to be there for her whenever she's upset. But what's happening to me now? I love her a lot, she's a wonderful friend. But she's also the reason for my tears today. I know this is simply ironic. She's important to me, and I'm crying because of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I still wish her the best in whatever she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But I'm falling into pieces.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&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/8235691963895413201-3470101565577953969?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/3470101565577953969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-dont-like-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/3470101565577953969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/3470101565577953969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-dont-like-me.html' title='I don&apos;t like me'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-8426527019763276175</id><published>2011-10-18T21:22:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T21:22:37.651+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm scared</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;E was just online, and he went off without talking to me. We have been chatting almost everytime we're both online since, two months ago? And now I'm really scared. I texted him just now, and I know his phone has been faulty these days. He can't receive any text unless he restarts his phone. I'm really afraid. Although I know that, I'm secretly afraid he might be unwilling to reply me. What did I do this time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I hate myself.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235691963895413201-8426527019763276175?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/8426527019763276175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-scared.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/8426527019763276175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/8426527019763276175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-scared.html' title='I&apos;m scared'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-1134284407145478525</id><published>2011-10-18T20:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T20:00:34.600+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What do I do now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Okay, now I'm faced with a slight problem. I know it's my fault, but views do change, and now mine has changed. Yeah, I was at fault, but now I'm sorry , and I don't know what to do. So, here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E got angry with me today. S once asked me if E was pestering me and I said sort of because I really felt so at that time. That time, he was, just, saying mushy stuff and being playful and all. But the thing is, he just isn't that kind of person in real life, and to tell the truth, I was pretty freaked out. Like how he'd say he was carefree and happy when in class, all I saw was an emo person looking dejected all the time. Like, seriously! I simply can't help it but freak out, and C, one of my friends that E suddenly talked to, also felt the same way I did. But subsequently, E stopped talking to C as much and instead grew much closer to me. I mean, well, after you get along with E for a period of time, you realize what kind of person he really is. Anyway, I stopped feeling freaked out. That's the point. So of course, now I don't think E is pestering me, because I see him as a friend now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;BUT, here comes the problem. I didn't tell H, one of the most important friends to me, that E wasn't bothering me anymore. Wait, hold on. I know it's getting really confusing with all the letters. But first let me introduce H first. She is one of the most important people to me. I mean it. She is an amazing friend. Okay, let's move on. I might elaborate one day ( even though I know no one reads this, but still. I need someplace to talk. ) And, yeah. H told E to back off today. From me, supposedly. But the thing is, E is now my friend after this past, I don't know, one month? And now. I am not mad at H. I don't think I ever will. But this misunderstanding.. I don't know how to resolve it. And E has proven to be a nice friend, someone I don't want to lose either. I don't want to lose either. But E is now mad, and I don't know how to explain to him. So I told him the story, about S asking me if E had been talking to me recently and me saying yes, and that's how H knew. That really is the whole story. But I'm scared E will be angry with me because. Well, if someone told you to back off from her friend, isn't it obvious that that friend had told her you have been bothering her? So, although I really once felt that way, but I don't now, and I don't want E to think that way. But I'm sure he thinks I told H that he has been bothering me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;And..we talked on facebook just now. I apologized, and explained. But I guess..he won't ever forgive me? Will he? He has grown to become pretty close to me, because as people always say, we click better with people of the opposite gender. He knows some things about me that not even H knows about. Some habits, I would say. And..I don't want to lose such a friend. SO, what do I do now? Even if he appears not to be angry with him anymore, we won't ever be as close. I won't ever be able to tell him how bored I am randomly through a text, and he won't ever share with me things about him like his ambition to own three quarters of the rice fields in the world and his views on how equality is a vicious cycle because a person supports equality because he himself wants to benefit from it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Was it my fault? My fault for talking about him and then wanting him as a friend later on? I guess it is. I've driven him away. And I hate myself for being me. Why am I such a horrible person? I am double-faced. Yes, I am. What do I do now? I hate myself. And it's getting stronger and stronger each day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And no one will ever know.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235691963895413201-1134284407145478525?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/1134284407145478525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-do-i-do-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/1134284407145478525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/1134284407145478525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-do-i-do-now.html' title='What do I do now?'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235691963895413201.post-2469478848977977468</id><published>2011-10-14T16:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-14T17:37:31.742+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Smile, regardless of the tears (: .</title><content type='html'>It's my first post for this blog. I have been looking to this for the past one month, because I was just so occupied with all the examinations. It isn't my first blog, but definitely my first anonymous one, and one that I can truly be myself. So much things have been on my mind for the past month, and I can't wait to get to my little heaven and cry myself out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so, how do I put it? I seem to feel like no one actually likes me for who I am. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; and&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, all both of them talk to me about is her, just because I'm close to her? It kind of hurts, actually, to know that when someone talks to you it isn't because they want to talk to you but because they want to know about someone else. Okay, I know &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; is really nice and all, but I can't help it. It just hurts so much to know that everyone is seeing through me to her. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt; doesn't even bother when I tell him I'm upset and he just proceeds to talk about her. Am I really so worthless? That no one actually even cares? I am her close friend, and I will always love her. But, everyone is being like that. Why?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235691963895413201-2469478848977977468?l=see-throughme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/feeds/2469478848977977468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/its-my-first-post-for-this-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/2469478848977977468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235691963895413201/posts/default/2469478848977977468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://see-throughme.blogspot.com/2011/10/its-my-first-post-for-this-blog.html' title='Smile, regardless of the tears (: .'/><author><name>hush-hush</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
