<?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-2947502106480956658</id><updated>2011-10-14T23:56:32.419-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Living in this disconnect...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>78</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6583533041683536634</id><published>2011-10-11T20:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T21:00:26.272-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm terrified. I've only gotten worse and doing the research just proves it's not looking good. I've ican hardly handle things now, I don't want to even think of a year from now. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing anymore. I really don't. I feel like I'm ruining all of the good things for myself and even for my best friend. I'm so sick and broken that I'm shitting on her feelings. I wish that she could be happier. I love her. What is wrong with me. What can I do now. I'm sick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6583533041683536634?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6583533041683536634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-terrified.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6583533041683536634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6583533041683536634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-terrified.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1184325271802469729</id><published>2011-09-20T22:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T23:09:55.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There is not one day that goes by where I don't cry anymore. It's been this way for a year, pretty much, and I can't do it anymore. I wish I could be a better person. I wish I didn't hate myself so much. I've never hated anyone more. I remember when I was little and you used to hold me. When you used to love me. I wish I could go back to then. When I had a mother. When I felt like I was going to have that through everything. Now I see that my dreams will never come true. That no one cares about the milestones. I remember thinking you'd come back. My senior year, I thought you'd try to find me so you could see me graduate. No one came, not even Dad or Pam. I'm not supposed to feel the love of family. And I will grow old, alone, never to have a family of my own. Never knowing the love I thought I had when I was 3. My heart is broken into so many pieces, that loving myself is impossible. I hate myself this much because if you didn't want me, why should I want to be me. You're the reason I seriously wish for death each day. All I want anymore is for my jealousy to end. I don't want to be this hideous person anymore, with my hideous thoughts. I deserve nothing. This is all my fault. My existence is the reason everything got completely fucked up so soon. Everyone showed me what a disgrace I am and I can't blame them. I'm a fucking piece of shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1184325271802469729?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1184325271802469729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/09/there-is-not-one-day-that-goes-by-where.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1184325271802469729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1184325271802469729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/09/there-is-not-one-day-that-goes-by-where.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-8650485567476549634</id><published>2011-08-23T01:02:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T01:09:53.768-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>How have I been crying all day. I'm pathetic. I really can't stand myself. Waking up and realizing nothing has changed about me is the worst. I'm still a jealous, selfish and rude piece of whatever. I'm really so sorry. I can't handle all these feelings and all the fuck ups.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-8650485567476549634?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/8650485567476549634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-have-i-been-crying-all-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8650485567476549634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8650485567476549634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-have-i-been-crying-all-day.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-2205874225993256767</id><published>2011-07-07T23:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T23:59:32.108-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The fake happiness walls I put up have crumbled.</title><content type='html'>That was short-lived. I'm sitting alone and realizing where all the money I made went. Paying for everything for almost the past seven years really stresses me out, with the exception of where I lived, aka "my parents'", for my senior year. I need money. I'm scared because I want to give up everyday. And now I'm scared to go to work because I'm not a strong enough person. I want to just rest easy, but I need another job. I want to go to school, but I'll still need to work quite a bit, so I can gain some comfort. I don't want to fall behind or completely shit on college. I know that I can get aid, but I want to save money as soon as I can. I wish I didn't cry so much. The more I do, the less I feel I can hold back. The less strength I feel like I have. I go through most days fighting with whether I want to keep, well, fighting. I wish I didn't, trust me. I just want a place to call home, where I don't have to worry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-2205874225993256767?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/2205874225993256767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/07/fake-happiness-walls-i-put-up-have.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2205874225993256767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2205874225993256767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/07/fake-happiness-walls-i-put-up-have.html' title='The fake happiness walls I put up have crumbled.'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7005189997080053102</id><published>2011-07-03T03:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T03:40:37.299-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm dumb.</title><content type='html'>On the train home after, what was supposed to be, a good night. It all seemed okay at first, but as it progressed, I realized that I wasn't special. Only time that holding my hand or flirting was apparently okay, was when his friend(s) looked away. But I disregarded it because I wanted to pretend like I was worth something. Like I was a prize to be won or he felt the need to show me off. I wasn't and of course, he didn't. I'm just that insecure, desperate piece of shit who doesn't know how to not fuck a guy during the first hang out. I'm so sick to my stomach because of that. And because I thought things would be different. I wish I could've just kept my gaurd up. I wish that the grounds I stand on, didn't always crumble. I always criticize, hate, talk shit about girls like me. I realize that I have no room to talk. I never do. The walk from the bus to the train was an 11 minute one. As I headed to the train, a woman in a BMW convertable with three dogs, pulled up &amp; told me to get in. I denied her, but she went on to say that she's a rape counselor and that although that neigborhood wasn't horrible, being in the dark was the worst idea for me. So, I got in, mostly because I love pups and she was persistant either way. I'm grateful for that part of my night. To know that someone actually cared about my well-being was a great feeling. I know my friends care, for damn sure, but everyone I came into contact with didn't give two shits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7005189997080053102?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7005189997080053102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/07/im-dumb.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7005189997080053102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7005189997080053102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/07/im-dumb.html' title='I&apos;m dumb.'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3601253576916991734</id><published>2011-06-27T20:49:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T21:30:17.715-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm trying to become more optimistic. I'm trying to force myself to be happy. It's the hardest thing ever because something always has to stand in my way. Something always has to crumble my entire foundation, then I have to rebuild myself up again. If it weren't for some, my foundation wouldn't improve little by little. It would always have this disgustingly atrocious crack that nothing could be supported on. I wouldn't have time to even think about making the inside presentable or even keeping the dust from settling so thick on each surface. A lot of what's wrong is the amount of time I spend trying to make sure the emptiness of it isn't seen by the passersby, or that my welcome rug is littered by the mud from the unloving's shoes. That there is comfort inside and beauty that greets you from within. That there's the glow of smiles on the windowpanes. When each monumental moment comes around, there is an aroma of love, caring and a sureness that this is what life is supposed to be like. I don't want there to be this dark cloud over the estate of my life forever. I want there to be an inviting smile at each entryway. A hug of friendship and welcomeness when you stop by to say hello. This old house is mine and each foundation gets better than the last. If I keep remembering that, then it will stay standing strong for years to come, new plaster, new floors, new visitors and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3601253576916991734?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3601253576916991734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-trying-to-become-more-optimistic.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3601253576916991734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3601253576916991734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-trying-to-become-more-optimistic.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3615892001628054221</id><published>2011-06-26T19:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T19:50:50.484-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm sick and fucking tired of pretending like not having parents is fine. Getting so jealous, it hurts. Trying to let people tell me to feel better when they don't know how it feels. I haven't felt safe in life at all. Fuck it. Fuck me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3615892001628054221?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3615892001628054221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-sick-and-fucking-tired-of-pretending.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3615892001628054221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3615892001628054221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-sick-and-fucking-tired-of-pretending.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1145821111046014916</id><published>2011-06-26T15:36:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T16:25:33.979-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Quit acting like the world's against you</title><content type='html'>I don't have anything good to say. I feel like I made myself look bad because I have to run from every potentially bad situation. Because I'm not strong enough to be alone, in my own court, everyday. I don't think the world's against me. I think that people don't listen to me, sometimes and my feelings get hurt. I'm not trying to be all about me or selfish. Ever since I can remember, I've had to fight all my battles alone. I get defensive. I don't get listened to a lot. I don't mean to offend people. I just want to be heard. It feels like I've been all on my own for most of my life. Even in my "parents" house, I had to fight every single battle. Even when I was 7, I took every blow alone. I'm sorry if I can't figure out what to change. Or how to get over it. Because watching people just have everything I've wanted, just makes it harder to be okay. The world isn't against me, I am. I cannot see things working out for me. I'm struggling so hard with normal everyday life, that I cannot see myself being able to handle much more. I need money, courtesy and someone to talk to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1145821111046014916?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1145821111046014916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/quit-acting-like-worlds-against-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1145821111046014916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1145821111046014916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/quit-acting-like-worlds-against-you.html' title='Quit acting like the world&apos;s against you'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4338011587438854726</id><published>2011-06-24T22:24:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T22:41:36.286-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know things probably won't go as I wanted or expected, but I somehow manage to be okay. Thousands in debt at 22 and I haven't even been to college yet, have no one to go to when I need financial help and whatnot, I have a disgusting mental problem, my legs are shot and most things seem to always get worse. But I have my best friend, my sister, the only person who's always here for me. Yeah, I don't know if she's going to end up halfway across the U.S. somewhat soon or if I can become a better friend to her again, but she'll aways be my best friend and love me unconditionally. I want to keep trying to be everything she deserves and to succeed as soon as possible. I give her so many reasons to run the other direction, but she doesn't. I'm so lucky to have her in my life. I honestly don't know what else to be thankful for because all the good things have came from her. She makes them known and she makes them happen. She gives me reasons to keep going, no matter how hard it gets. I love her because of how much she believes in me. I want a family so much, but I have so much just because of her. And I have no clue why I'm crying. I'm just happy she's happy with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4338011587438854726?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4338011587438854726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-know-things-probably-wont-go-as-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4338011587438854726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4338011587438854726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-know-things-probably-wont-go-as-i.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1917831244661458210</id><published>2011-06-23T22:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T22:41:06.371-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel like I've made a big mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's only my fault.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1917831244661458210?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1917831244661458210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-feel-like-ive-made-big-mistake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1917831244661458210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1917831244661458210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-feel-like-ive-made-big-mistake.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7068167084440926048</id><published>2011-06-22T21:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T21:56:07.482-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty personal</title><content type='html'>Ever since it was normal for hormones to give you "that feeling" and for teens to masturbate, I've been unable to be properly turned on. Like yeah, I mentally get turned on, where I want to get busy with another person I find attractive, but when I'm touched, I cannot get that special feeling. Touching me dirty has the same potential that shaking my hand does. I've always been too embarrassed to admit it, until lately, after I started to get really jealous of all of my friends. It wasn't even jealously over them getting any in the first place, it was jealousy over that even when they masturbate, they get turned on at all or even cum or orgasm. It's lame. And I try crediting it to my depression because it'd make complete sense, but I wasn't that bad when I was 13 or 14 and decided that "discovering myself" was a good idea. It was completely pointless and lack luster then as it is now, so I don't do it often or very much at all. Now, I just kinda flop about in bed when I can't sleep and wish I had some sort of outlet? Or something? Sex and sexual acts are one of the simplest forms of pleasure and generators of happiness. I've looked into it and realized that, although very few, other females have this problem, but that just makes me more worried. I kinda wanted it to just be me and a result of my depression, because that'd mean there was some sort of fix. But it's not and it's not my depression, because the first time would've been nice, as would other early sexual experiences I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked into it and I couldn't find anything on why I don't get aroused. Everything said didn't line up or came from something. No matter what, if I'm sexually touched, it feels like nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7068167084440926048?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7068167084440926048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/pretty-personal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7068167084440926048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7068167084440926048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/pretty-personal.html' title='Pretty personal'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6357939331535063226</id><published>2011-06-21T05:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T05:50:57.926-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No matter how disgusted I am with myself for proving I'm a fuckface to my best friend, I will try so fucking hard to "be happy". It was torture knowing that I offended her so badly though. I just wish I would've stuck with trying to hang with her. But when it didn't seem (wrongfully so) like hanging with her was a possiblity, my back up "sure I'll probably make it out" plans took place. I've been slapped in the face with the realization that I need to be more direct and up front about the right stuff. Yeah, Elise and I didn't have plans and yeah, I made a mistake, but I still should have been straight up and asked her if she wanted to hang or not. The nondefinite questions and answers turned into me seeing that I'm not too great. I try so hard to put the people I care about's feelings in my highest respects and I feel like I'm laying it on too thick or being clingy/needy, but now I feel like I just don't know the time or place to show how much I truly care. I constantly want to make those I love happy, I guess I'm just doing it at the wrong times. I'm so confused. I don't want to seem like I say or do things because "I have to" I want people to know I love them and they mean a lot. I'm just trying to fix what is obviously wrong with me, as a friend, by not being all in people's business or give them the will to decide. I need to know whether I'm allowed to act a certain way or not, because I'm trying to change what seemed wrong. But I'm never going to know how to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6357939331535063226?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6357939331535063226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/no-matter-how-disgusted-i-am-with.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6357939331535063226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6357939331535063226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/no-matter-how-disgusted-i-am-with.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6658667469314643709</id><published>2011-06-20T05:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T05:17:19.633-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Promise</title><content type='html'>I've decided that in order to maintain the people I have in my life, I'm forcing myself to hold as much "serious" negativity in as humanly possible. This includes everything that can honestly sabotage good feelings and/or emotions. No matter how much I want or need to vent, I'm going to hold it in. Pretending I'm okay all of the time may force me to believe I am. I've reached a point where being honest is no longer right. From now on, I'm going to do my damnedest to fake happiness. I'm not always unhappy now, mostly due to a couple few friends, but I am most of the time. No matter what, whether I'm being hacked to death or what have you, I have no choice but to act like the shit isn't still piling higher and higher. Life isn't fair. Grin and bear it. It could be worse. I have to pretend for the rest of my life. And weirdly enough, I'm going to miss being true to myself, no matter how painful each day has felt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6658667469314643709?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6658667469314643709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/promise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6658667469314643709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6658667469314643709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/promise.html' title='Promise'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-83123029236848248</id><published>2011-06-19T02:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T02:31:31.721-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>To my best friend, you're wonderful. All I want from life is to be happy and it never seems like I can. It's no one's fault but my own and living each and every day inside this skull is too much for me. It's very obvious that many have it worse, but they're stronger than I am, too. I'm too emotional and sad. I want to quit needing. I want to quit thinking of how I ruin and how I wish I didn't wake up in the morning. I love with too much and I get so scared by how much I fuck up. I wasn't always so bad. Why can't I stop being so miserable? Why can't I get stronger, instead of weaker with each day? I hate being lost. I just want someone to hold me. Just want to feel family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-83123029236848248?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/83123029236848248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/to-my-best-friend-youre-wonderful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/83123029236848248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/83123029236848248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/to-my-best-friend-youre-wonderful.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1784653829158744331</id><published>2011-06-18T22:24:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T22:27:52.293-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I want to be taken care of. I want to cry. The more I think, the more alone I feel. I want to be able to say everything. Or nothing at all because feeling this way wouldn't even exist. I don't know what comfort is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1784653829158744331?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1784653829158744331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-want-to-be-taken-care-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1784653829158744331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1784653829158744331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-want-to-be-taken-care-of.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-288918587624876069</id><published>2011-06-18T00:18:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T12:49:38.810-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I wish I knew how to be as careless as most everyone else I know. I don't like dissecting every little thing that people say or do, even if not toward me or about me. But subconcious words and/or actions will end up eating me alive. It's not about me, it never is or will be, but I just want someone to put me on a pedestal. To love me the most. I want to be the special person for someone. I would kill to be the reason someone makes a big choice or the reason love is even valid to them. I think about how I want to change someone's life and be a main reason they cherish it. I want something to be set in stone for me. For once. I know life isn't fair, but nothing ever seems to work out. I always love too much &amp; lose it all somehow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-288918587624876069?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/288918587624876069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-wish-i-knew-how-to-be-as-careless-as.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/288918587624876069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/288918587624876069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-wish-i-knew-how-to-be-as-careless-as.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-173187408170441497</id><published>2010-09-09T12:45:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T12:45:57.442-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Making changes for the possibility of bettering my life.&lt;br /&gt;Mostly because two people really believe in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky for them, b/c I don't really believe in myself. Not yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-173187408170441497?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/173187408170441497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/09/making-changes-for-possibility-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/173187408170441497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/173187408170441497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/09/making-changes-for-possibility-of.html' title=''/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-2276058354791043326</id><published>2010-08-10T23:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T23:02:52.367-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Copying Elise's post</title><content type='html'>I moved to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://pursuingghosts.tumblr.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will never be deleted, b/c I'm satisfied w/ a lot of what I write, even if depressing and not so great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-2276058354791043326?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/2276058354791043326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/08/copying-elises-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2276058354791043326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2276058354791043326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/08/copying-elises-post.html' title='Copying Elise&apos;s post'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-60728868147962271</id><published>2010-08-01T01:37:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T02:00:09.354-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Know what...</title><content type='html'>Everyday I wake up on the "wrong" side of the bed.&lt;br /&gt;Anytime I look blank, I have you in my head.&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, I'm a victim of cliche lust and loss.&lt;br /&gt;I've paid my dues tenfold, although expensive is the cost.&lt;br /&gt;I turn to look and see who it is that called my name.&lt;br /&gt;And always it is no one, hallucinations are to blame.&lt;br /&gt;I make believe things to get me through the day.&lt;br /&gt;People question my smile and I reply with "I'm okay."&lt;br /&gt;Being "honest" doesn't matter; I still tell many lies.&lt;br /&gt;One day people will see right through my disguise.&lt;br /&gt;I set myself up for failure more and more and more.&lt;br /&gt;I can't even cry because I know what's in store.&lt;br /&gt;Go ahead and say that I'm being melodramatic.&lt;br /&gt;But put yourself in my shoes, oh, wait they'll never fit.&lt;br /&gt;I don't need someone to completely understand.&lt;br /&gt;And I don't need someone to adhere to my demands.&lt;br /&gt;Because let's face it, I'm so not worth your time.&lt;br /&gt;We all know time is money and I'm not worth a dime.&lt;br /&gt;I have such will to dream up higher hopes.&lt;br /&gt;But each time pursued, the door is slammed, "Nope!"&lt;br /&gt;With how much I've laid down, all the blood, sweat and tears.&lt;br /&gt;Everything becomes reality, even my darkest fears.&lt;br /&gt;The only things keeping me from collapsing in the dust.&lt;br /&gt;Are the fairytales I live with of sadness, loss and lust.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-60728868147962271?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/60728868147962271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/08/know-what.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/60728868147962271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/60728868147962271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/08/know-what.html' title='Know what...'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-8484353012047705462</id><published>2010-07-29T22:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T22:21:34.282-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Endless</title><content type='html'>I can't stand waking up everyday feeling hopeless.&lt;br /&gt;As though the amount I try is exponetially less forgiving than everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;As though I'm swimming to safety in quicksand with cement shoes &amp; gloves on.&lt;br /&gt;I'm stagnant.&lt;br /&gt;I've fallen from grace years upon years ago &amp; there's not one person to blame&lt;br /&gt;but myself.&lt;br /&gt;I want so much for my life.&lt;br /&gt;Every dream easily grasped by any normal person, fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;Being able to stand up &amp; voice my accomplishments with pride.&lt;br /&gt;Not with disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;Because, let's face it, I'm most disappointed in myself.&lt;br /&gt;I'm honestly surprised with the quality of my loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;The amazement that is my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;I don't deserve this.&lt;br /&gt;I don't deserve to have real friendship.&lt;br /&gt;It's not like I'm one of a kind awesome.&lt;br /&gt;Not like there's not five more of "me" around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;Five more wasted lives to hear whining about.&lt;br /&gt;Five more sacks of useless garbage.&lt;br /&gt;I don't expect one person to feel my pain&lt;br /&gt;or for that matter, sympathize.&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm helpless along with hopeless.&lt;br /&gt;I make myself out to be so half full to most.&lt;br /&gt;When all I know is half empty.&lt;br /&gt;When all I know is failure.&lt;br /&gt;It's like I walk up two steps and fall down four.&lt;br /&gt;And all I do is find myself using numbers to add up my losses.&lt;br /&gt;So many goals, untouched.&lt;br /&gt;So many promises, unkept.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not worth your time.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not worth knowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not worth existing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-8484353012047705462?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/8484353012047705462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/07/endless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8484353012047705462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8484353012047705462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/07/endless.html' title='Endless'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1187834835228994578</id><published>2010-07-12T18:34:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T18:52:59.140-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Realist</title><content type='html'>The one who keeps me grounded,&lt;br /&gt;helps me know what's needed seen.&lt;br /&gt;She has a way of always knowing,&lt;br /&gt;what's real and make believe.&lt;br /&gt;I can't be more than happy,&lt;br /&gt;for the way she lives her life.&lt;br /&gt;Her knowledge and philosophy,&lt;br /&gt;gets me through my strife.&lt;br /&gt;If only people knew about,&lt;br /&gt;everything that she's been through.&lt;br /&gt;They'll have a sense of realization,&lt;br /&gt;that she's right and true.&lt;br /&gt;One day she'll be renowned,&lt;br /&gt;for all it is she knows.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone will appreciate,&lt;br /&gt;her intelligence exposed.&lt;br /&gt;I know soon she'll meet her match,&lt;br /&gt;someone worth her time.&lt;br /&gt;A person that gets her,&lt;br /&gt;a motherfucking dime!&lt;br /&gt;I've got complete respect for one&lt;br /&gt;and it's my bestest friend.&lt;br /&gt;No one has been so straight up,&lt;br /&gt;She's real until the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1187834835228994578?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1187834835228994578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/07/realist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1187834835228994578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1187834835228994578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/07/realist.html' title='Realist'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6551682141051526291</id><published>2010-06-28T00:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T00:20:35.775-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I can</title><content type='html'>taste the days when I was it.&lt;br /&gt;When I was the only one who understood the shit.&lt;br /&gt;If people said, "I know, I know..."&lt;br /&gt;You'd know enough to just blow&lt;br /&gt;Them off, goodbye, you're playing games&lt;br /&gt;We knew what was up and all the same&lt;br /&gt;To think that I'm just hanging back&lt;br /&gt;Makes it hurt so bad, just like you smacked&lt;br /&gt;Your hand across my face&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling so disgraced&lt;br /&gt;I never switched my place&lt;br /&gt;With a fake who took the bait&lt;br /&gt;And knelt to kiss your feet&lt;br /&gt;Every second she followed your lead&lt;br /&gt;Now all I do is try&lt;br /&gt;To keep closed my eyes&lt;br /&gt;All the time wishing and hoping&lt;br /&gt;They will not fail and open&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes I'm not strong enough&lt;br /&gt;That's right, you called my bluff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6551682141051526291?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6551682141051526291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-can.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6551682141051526291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6551682141051526291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-can.html' title='I can'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-325795441332398846</id><published>2010-05-16T15:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T15:44:55.283-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Really</title><content type='html'>I'm grateful for the few I have.&lt;br /&gt;Especially my best friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-325795441332398846?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/325795441332398846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/really.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/325795441332398846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/325795441332398846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/really.html' title='Really'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7216926377031865394</id><published>2010-05-12T16:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T16:28:58.140-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm pathetic but</title><content type='html'>It's the little things that change how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;The tiny thing's people don't even think about, but happens subconsciously.&lt;br /&gt;The reason why it affects me so much is that psychologically, the subconscious acts of others are what truly mean to come out.&lt;br /&gt;They're what people intend.&lt;br /&gt;And every time, I seem to notice something people say or do that they didn't make an effort to on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;And every time it's something that hurts my feelings, it really makes me down.&lt;br /&gt;I realize I sound like a child, but my emotions are stuck there.&lt;br /&gt;I've lived my life in a way to make things very hard to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;Any single thing can take me from happy to depressed.&lt;br /&gt;So ridiculous, but it's true.&lt;br /&gt;And honestly, I'm surprised people deal with it and me.&lt;br /&gt;But I just need to be up front with myself and admit that I have problems.&lt;br /&gt;I pretty much always have.&lt;br /&gt;And it's hard to figure out what to do when I'm always alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7216926377031865394?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7216926377031865394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-pathetic-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7216926377031865394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7216926377031865394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-pathetic-but.html' title='I&apos;m pathetic but'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4020048668427478901</id><published>2010-05-04T09:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T09:43:36.416-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I know</title><content type='html'>I need to change quite a bit.&lt;br /&gt;Not really my personality, but the way I do things.&lt;br /&gt;How I react and how fast I get stuff done.&lt;br /&gt;But I can't help feeling that I'm stuck in a rut.&lt;br /&gt;Every time I feel like I'm making progress, I end up facedown.&lt;br /&gt;I've got about two people cheering me on.&lt;br /&gt;Without them this would be even harder.&lt;br /&gt;Trying to make life more worth waking up for is a job in itself.&lt;br /&gt;Working and working constantly just to be okay.&lt;br /&gt;It's crap, because it seems like the happy people got it all for free.&lt;br /&gt;Got it from someone in their family long ago doing all the dirty work.&lt;br /&gt;Lucky them.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I were able to be that person for my family.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't have enough heart.&lt;br /&gt;Not enough will to even satisfy myself.&lt;br /&gt;It's pathetic, I know, but it's me.&lt;br /&gt;As I said, I need to change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4020048668427478901?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4020048668427478901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4020048668427478901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4020048668427478901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-know.html' title='I know'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3836876399819431897</id><published>2010-05-02T19:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T19:21:13.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Destitute</title><content type='html'>I need out.&lt;br /&gt;For means of survival, I need out.&lt;br /&gt;I want to feel content within myself.&lt;br /&gt;And there's no way w/o getting out.&lt;br /&gt;Someday soon, I hope, I'll escape.&lt;br /&gt;I'll enjoy each breath I take.&lt;br /&gt;When that day comes everything will look up.&lt;br /&gt;I have few things to be happy for.&lt;br /&gt;And one will be going soon.&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll be okay.&lt;br /&gt;But I always get scared.&lt;br /&gt;I know I need to grow up.&lt;br /&gt;But I always get scared.&lt;br /&gt;This happens all the time to other people.&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I just take it with a grain of salt.&lt;br /&gt;I've never had someone to care.&lt;br /&gt;And now that I do, it's hard.&lt;br /&gt;Anything to ever go wrong has been my fault.&lt;br /&gt;I hope to gain the strength to right my wrongs.&lt;br /&gt;And finally just be able to live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3836876399819431897?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3836876399819431897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/destitute.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3836876399819431897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3836876399819431897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/05/destitute.html' title='Destitute'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6228602755041748887</id><published>2010-04-27T10:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T11:02:33.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost</title><content type='html'>I used to fill that empty hole&lt;br /&gt;but now I'm barely needed.&lt;br /&gt;Feels like someone came and stole&lt;br /&gt;the one thing that's kept me breathing.&lt;br /&gt;I hate to make this all about me&lt;br /&gt;but I am who I am.&lt;br /&gt;All I want is for the feeling to leave&lt;br /&gt;I'm treading on broken land.&lt;br /&gt;My feelings hurt from inside out&lt;br /&gt;but it's no one's fault but my own.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what this is about&lt;br /&gt;you made me feel at home.&lt;br /&gt;Now sometimes I'm like a stranger&lt;br /&gt;when I can't express.&lt;br /&gt;My sadness turns into anger&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, I digress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6228602755041748887?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6228602755041748887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/04/lost.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6228602755041748887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6228602755041748887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/04/lost.html' title='Lost'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7899302323908619987</id><published>2010-04-06T21:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T21:24:03.838-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Uh</title><content type='html'>What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'm overreacting or what.&lt;br /&gt;But this is hurting my heart.&lt;br /&gt;Every time I think about the possible outcome, my chest burns.&lt;br /&gt;I want to get answers, but I can't.&lt;br /&gt;Everything I know and have lived for in the past couple years may be crashing down.&lt;br /&gt;Only reason why I haven't reacted openly is because I have trust.&lt;br /&gt;I believe it's not even an option.&lt;br /&gt;So, until further notice, I will be excited for what's to come and brush of my worries.&lt;br /&gt;Because for all that I know, I'm just being ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that I'm being ridiculous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7899302323908619987?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7899302323908619987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/04/uh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7899302323908619987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7899302323908619987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/04/uh.html' title='Uh'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3861300758660452341</id><published>2010-04-01T22:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T22:23:39.122-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty sure</title><content type='html'>I need to go to therapy.&lt;br /&gt;I need an unbiased person to tell me when I'm right and wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Someone to tell the fucked up shit to.&lt;br /&gt;Someone to hear me out in situation when I'm being tossed aside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd just really like to figure out if I'm really being that fucking ridiculous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3861300758660452341?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3861300758660452341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/04/pretty-sure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3861300758660452341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3861300758660452341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/04/pretty-sure.html' title='Pretty sure'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7469874560050244457</id><published>2010-03-29T00:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T00:38:48.062-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Solitude</title><content type='html'>Up until now, I was blaming everything wrong with me &amp; my life on that which surrounds me.&lt;br /&gt;I was misguided.&lt;br /&gt;I've realized that I'm just not socially equipped for friendship.&lt;br /&gt;People see me as the skewed version of what I think I am.&lt;br /&gt;And they're not false.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just projecting myself in a way that is ill received.&lt;br /&gt;Most times I think what I'm doing is the right thing, then later I notice each and every single thing that I should not have said or did.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I'm this good at letting everyone down, including myself.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not looking for someone to deal with my bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not trying for pity.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to actually write that I do know what the fuck my problem is.&lt;br /&gt;I'm either too nice or too mean.&lt;br /&gt;My extremes are so far apart that knowing me is a chore.&lt;br /&gt;Not being my friend, just knowing me at all is too much to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;I understand that I will end up ultimately alone.&lt;br /&gt;I've taken that into account a long time ago &amp; although I'm not prepared or happy with it, I have to just handle it.&lt;br /&gt;I have a person or two who I really care about, but I even make them draw back.&lt;br /&gt;It'd be great to fucking just stop being this damn annoying.&lt;br /&gt;To stop trying to show people how much I do care even if they already know.&lt;br /&gt;I need to just back the fuck off and shut my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order for anything to be worth living for, I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7469874560050244457?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7469874560050244457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/03/solitude.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7469874560050244457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7469874560050244457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/03/solitude.html' title='Solitude'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3444849803842646644</id><published>2010-01-31T13:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T13:36:22.219-06:00</updated><title type='text'>/=</title><content type='html'>I have so much to say and no time to get it out.&lt;br /&gt;Just be happy I don't have a computer because people would get an eyeful.&lt;br /&gt;Who cares anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone who matters already knows my shit.&lt;br /&gt;And everyone who doesn't is my shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3444849803842646644?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3444849803842646644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3444849803842646644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3444849803842646644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title='/='/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6430360649813263279</id><published>2009-12-07T17:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T17:13:03.550-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Constant</title><content type='html'>I always have so much in my mind to let out.&lt;br /&gt;So many feelings of hardship and loss.&lt;br /&gt;So many happy and fruitful things that I've encountered.&lt;br /&gt;But somehow I never get all that I need to say out.&lt;br /&gt;If I get anything across, it's all negative.&lt;br /&gt;But I find myself in need of writing when shit has happened.&lt;br /&gt;When I feel less than a person.&lt;br /&gt;Always when I'm at a level where the dirt and scum are above me.&lt;br /&gt;Know that I can look at everything positively.&lt;br /&gt;I do have a friend or two that I care more about than anything.&lt;br /&gt;Brothers who would die for me.&lt;br /&gt;I can't thank those people enough for keeping me around.&lt;br /&gt;I do what I can for the love of them.&lt;br /&gt;And although it may not be enough, it seems to give them the effort to love me back.&lt;br /&gt;My best friend, for instance, I know would do anything for me.&lt;br /&gt;She's always been there when I needed her without a second glance.&lt;br /&gt;I will do anything to maintain the love I have for the few people who care.&lt;br /&gt;I will do everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6430360649813263279?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6430360649813263279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/12/constant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6430360649813263279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6430360649813263279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/12/constant.html' title='Constant'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6930406158670799227</id><published>2009-11-19T19:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T19:38:49.340-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing</title><content type='html'>No hope.&lt;br /&gt;Not now.&lt;br /&gt;Not ever.&lt;br /&gt;This is me bitching.&lt;br /&gt;And I don't give a fuck who cares.&lt;br /&gt;I have no clue what to do next.&lt;br /&gt;If I'm strong enough, I will get healthier.&lt;br /&gt;I will hopefully join the military.&lt;br /&gt;Make someone proud for once.&lt;br /&gt;Because at this rate, I'm shit.&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing to show for.&lt;br /&gt;No one who completely cares.&lt;br /&gt;Even though I put my whole heart into something, I get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;I disappoint.&lt;br /&gt;I let down just because I was being the person I've always been or tried to be.&lt;br /&gt;Only way for me to get anything, is for me to go away.&lt;br /&gt;Stop ruining other people's lives and annoying the fuck out of everyone.&lt;br /&gt;I'll leave everyone alone when the time comes.&lt;br /&gt;And I'll finally make someone halfway okay with knowing me.&lt;br /&gt;Because we all know, I'm nothing to brag about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6930406158670799227?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6930406158670799227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/nothing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6930406158670799227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6930406158670799227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/nothing.html' title='Nothing'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-5598772498676324383</id><published>2009-11-15T10:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T11:01:29.059-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On the real</title><content type='html'>Why pride yourself on something you can't even live for?&lt;br /&gt;I used to do it all of the time and I'm learning to fix that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to be completely me, but things keep getting jaded or skewed.&lt;br /&gt;This isn't a complaint, this is real life and I'm honestly lost.&lt;br /&gt;I can't find where I stand.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I'm not standing at all.&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking everything on my ass.&lt;br /&gt;Because every time I get up and try to take everything like a brave person, I get kicked in the chest.&lt;br /&gt;The more blows I receive, the harder it is to get up again.&lt;br /&gt;One day, I'm not going to get up, so the world can feel free to trample on my strewn out body and mind.&lt;br /&gt;It's happened more often than not.&lt;br /&gt;So, feel free to dig your feet in hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-5598772498676324383?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/5598772498676324383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/on-real.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5598772498676324383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5598772498676324383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/on-real.html' title='On the real'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-5566502442702408594</id><published>2009-11-13T21:05:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T21:09:46.326-06:00</updated><title type='text'>True Life</title><content type='html'>I can't fix the broken alone.&lt;br /&gt;Nor can I shut up with people asking me questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've honestly tried hard to better myself over the years.&lt;br /&gt;And I personally think I'm progressing slowly, but surely.&lt;br /&gt;Seeing as I'm the only person constantly with myself, I'm the only one who notices.&lt;br /&gt;A promise not broken is that I will someday soon be easier to tolerate.&lt;br /&gt;Also, everything you've put into knowing me is something I hold dear to every piece of myself.&lt;br /&gt;I love the few people I have that are close to me and I want them to know that they all make a huge difference.&lt;br /&gt;Without them, I would be a mess.&lt;br /&gt;Even if only one of them decides to give up, then the equilibrium that I hold so strongly onto will collapse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Know your worth.&lt;br /&gt;I don't take you for granted whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;Please, don't do so for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-5566502442702408594?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/5566502442702408594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/true-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5566502442702408594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5566502442702408594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/true-life.html' title='True Life'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4874373382331091414</id><published>2009-11-11T13:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T14:00:09.301-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Vast</title><content type='html'>I hate feeling wrong within myself.&lt;br /&gt;I hate crying because I can't be who I feel is right and please the people I care for.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to sit and take slaps in the face from others without putting my thought in.&lt;br /&gt;And when I do say what I feel on the matter, I get chastised.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could be understood by someone.&lt;br /&gt;I know that everyone is uniquely their own person, but I need someone who gets me.&lt;br /&gt;I'm aware almost every sentence begins with "I" but this is about me right now.&lt;br /&gt;I need to get my feelings out because crying isn't enough.&lt;br /&gt;Especially without comfort or care.&lt;br /&gt;I personally felt shitty on the whole matter.&lt;br /&gt;I felt back burnered and forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;Cast out with the old and shabby.&lt;br /&gt;When I feel that way, I say or do things to make myself known.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone ever has been a fan of attention.&lt;br /&gt;I just hate being the last to know.&lt;br /&gt;Or just not knowing at all.&lt;br /&gt;Why can't more people see where I'm coming from.&lt;br /&gt;Just put yourself in my shoes.&lt;br /&gt;Listen to everything you're brushing off.&lt;br /&gt;It's not easy.&lt;br /&gt;It hurts.&lt;br /&gt;More than you think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4874373382331091414?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4874373382331091414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/vast.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4874373382331091414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4874373382331091414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/vast.html' title='Vast'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-5421302809874827416</id><published>2009-11-07T00:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T00:34:59.005-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Please</title><content type='html'>Don't take me completely serious.&lt;br /&gt;I may feel one way at a certain time, but not always.&lt;br /&gt;I understand that things aren't as bad for me as they could be.&lt;br /&gt;I know there are many other people in the world going through far worse than me.&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes I go through things and express my feelings in a ridiculous way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my close friends.&lt;br /&gt;I love my close family.&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty alright with my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-5421302809874827416?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/5421302809874827416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/please.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5421302809874827416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5421302809874827416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/11/please.html' title='Please'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6382044158508340228</id><published>2009-10-26T18:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T18:04:32.734-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm through</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="profile_status"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;No one cares about me. I'm a fuck up. A waste. Nothing to live for and nothing to die for. Made to sit alone, breathe alone and to be a desolate empty shell forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may stop writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ruin everything I come into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no one wants to read about my downfalls anyhow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;span id="status_time"&gt;&lt;span id="status_time_inner"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6382044158508340228?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6382044158508340228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-through.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6382044158508340228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6382044158508340228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-through.html' title='I&apos;m through'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1387120352325473671</id><published>2009-10-05T09:38:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T09:42:11.774-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Umm</title><content type='html'>So, I need to learn to think before I say or do.&lt;br /&gt;More and more I realize that I'm fucking retarded.&lt;br /&gt;I never mean anything bad by most everything.&lt;br /&gt;And I hate to use nuture as an excuse.&lt;br /&gt;But, I was made into this thoughtless person.&lt;br /&gt;Those around me have been selfish and careless.&lt;br /&gt;I'm surprised I'm as decent as I am.&lt;br /&gt;I'm appalled I even have compassion anymore.&lt;br /&gt;At this, I'm sorry world for my indescrestions.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time, I don't mean it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a pretty alright person.&lt;br /&gt;At least, I'll keep telling myself that.&lt;br /&gt;It's managed to keep me from going crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not necessarily other people though, it seems.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1387120352325473671?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1387120352325473671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/10/umm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1387120352325473671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1387120352325473671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/10/umm.html' title='Umm'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-77701963878147114</id><published>2009-09-25T23:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T23:10:26.194-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Grateful</title><content type='html'>I love the Krajeckes.&lt;br /&gt;They may be my favorite family ever.&lt;br /&gt;They're loving and gracious.&lt;br /&gt;Like everyone else, they have their problems.&lt;br /&gt;But they look past them.&lt;br /&gt;They actually act like a family should.&lt;br /&gt;They listen to music together.&lt;br /&gt;Watch movies and laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Make me wish I grew up with something similar.&lt;br /&gt;No matter what, they look out for each other.&lt;br /&gt;They help each other out.&lt;br /&gt;They learn new things from each other.&lt;br /&gt;Everyday.&lt;br /&gt;Everyday they love more and more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-77701963878147114?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/77701963878147114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/grateful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/77701963878147114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/77701963878147114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/grateful.html' title='Grateful'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4253959798927659652</id><published>2009-09-17T09:46:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T09:47:08.074-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So</title><content type='html'>I'm trying to be proactive about everything.&lt;br /&gt;But I have no idea where to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any help?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4253959798927659652?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4253959798927659652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/so.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4253959798927659652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4253959798927659652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/so.html' title='So'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4083011646232958391</id><published>2009-09-15T15:05:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T16:54:31.294-06:00</updated><title type='text'>And so forth</title><content type='html'>I'm still stranded at a crossroad of monstrous proportion.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm going to be lost forever.&lt;br /&gt;Or until I'm forced to make a terrible decision.&lt;br /&gt;I know there are a few options.&lt;br /&gt;One I want.&lt;br /&gt;One that would be nice.&lt;br /&gt;One that's the easiest.&lt;br /&gt;And one that is depressing.&lt;br /&gt;The one I want won't work.&lt;br /&gt;I can't pay rent alone nor live alone in a new place.&lt;br /&gt;The nice one isn't that nice.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to live there.&lt;br /&gt;But I love my brothers.&lt;br /&gt;The easiest is somewhat sad.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to leave people I love.&lt;br /&gt;But I could see some family I rarely ever see.&lt;br /&gt;Although I know I would be somewhat letdown.&lt;br /&gt;And I don't want to be depressed with the last one.&lt;br /&gt;Why go back to something so mediocre/unfulfilling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fucked.&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I could give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And evaporate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4083011646232958391?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4083011646232958391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-so-forth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4083011646232958391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4083011646232958391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-so-forth.html' title='And so forth'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-8571392963597285713</id><published>2009-09-14T20:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T14:29:20.428-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Elise and I love Silver Foxes</title><content type='html'>For these reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anderson Cooper&lt;br /&gt;Gerard Butler&lt;br /&gt;Mike Rowe&lt;br /&gt;Bear Grylls&lt;br /&gt;Al Pacino&lt;br /&gt;Robert De Niro&lt;br /&gt;Bruce Willis&lt;br /&gt;Brad Pitt&lt;br /&gt;Denzel Washington&lt;br /&gt;Edward Norton&lt;br /&gt;Paul Bettany&lt;br /&gt;Russell Crowe&lt;br /&gt;George Clooney&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhh, we're having an issue thinking up people we talk so much about.&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;br /&gt;[=&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-8571392963597285713?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/8571392963597285713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/elise-and-i-love-silver-foxes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8571392963597285713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8571392963597285713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/elise-and-i-love-silver-foxes.html' title='Elise and I love Silver Foxes'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4210818420982775583</id><published>2009-09-12T09:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T09:47:41.186-06:00</updated><title type='text'>[=</title><content type='html'>I would love to thank Elise for giving me a great birthday.&lt;br /&gt;I'm lucky to have someone like her.&lt;br /&gt;It's weird because she's like sky level amazing and I'm soil.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Elise!&lt;br /&gt;You're the bestiest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4210818420982775583?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4210818420982775583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4210818420982775583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4210818420982775583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title='[='/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1266863366354796990</id><published>2009-09-11T22:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T22:41:00.499-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Soo</title><content type='html'>I don't get people.&lt;br /&gt;Why are you interested in me, but you don't even know me?&lt;br /&gt;I tried to communicate, but you brushed me off.&lt;br /&gt;So, quit lurking.&lt;br /&gt;Mind your own goddamn business.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not appealing whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;So quit.&lt;br /&gt;Shit's creepy as hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1266863366354796990?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1266863366354796990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/soo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1266863366354796990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1266863366354796990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/soo.html' title='Soo'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-8931492768053191572</id><published>2009-09-08T12:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T12:53:43.782-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The difference</title><content type='html'>I've come to realize that I love only about four people other than those in my family.&lt;br /&gt;There's Elise and Leslie.&lt;br /&gt;Then the other two that I will leave to your imagination.&lt;br /&gt;I know I run around like an idiot telling many people I love then.&lt;br /&gt;But in reality, it's either I love the old you, the potential of you or the you at that very moment in time I'm proclaiming such love.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a liar.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just missing, hoping or having too much fun.&lt;br /&gt;Sue me.&lt;br /&gt;I'm well aware that about six seconds later I'm questioning why I even said I loved you.&lt;br /&gt;You've done nothing for me, nor will you ever.&lt;br /&gt;I'm foolish and too accepting sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I am where I am right now.&lt;br /&gt;In trouble, confused and lacking in the friend department.&lt;br /&gt;I really couldn't care less if I have nine million friends.&lt;br /&gt;I really actually enjoy having two or three real caring friends.&lt;br /&gt;Rather than waste time with fruitless hapless bursts of a excitement.&lt;br /&gt;Also known as, most of the people I hang with from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;Yea, it's nice to have a good amount of people when you're trying to have a party.&lt;br /&gt;But other than that, I see not much of a point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-8931492768053191572?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/8931492768053191572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/difference.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8931492768053191572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8931492768053191572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/difference.html' title='The difference'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-2205509159192532960</id><published>2009-09-07T18:47:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T18:48:25.053-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Innocence</title><content type='html'>I didn't write this, but the person or people that did are geniuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk through the darkest rooms&lt;br /&gt;Full of gloom and minds like mazes&lt;br /&gt;And rejoice 'cause I'll be the voice&lt;br /&gt;Of your failure fucking generation&lt;br /&gt;Still don't belong to anyone&lt;br /&gt;This is a life of hesitation&lt;br /&gt;And we'd all trade one night to remember&lt;br /&gt;For the years we've carelessly wasted&lt;br /&gt;Big dreams and half full drinks&lt;br /&gt;A few pills in your guts&lt;br /&gt;So now it's easy to think or breathe&lt;br /&gt;And true love was just a marketed ploy&lt;br /&gt;So guys can hit their lines&lt;br /&gt;And girls can grab their boys&lt;br /&gt;Sweet innocence with loser's luck&lt;br /&gt;I know you think you're giving love&lt;br /&gt;But you're just getting fucked&lt;br /&gt;Guess what?&lt;br /&gt;I looked and you know what I found?&lt;br /&gt;That you can't expect to trust this world&lt;br /&gt;When you can't even trust yourself&lt;br /&gt;And your head starts to spin&lt;br /&gt;As you dance to the beat&lt;br /&gt;Because tomorrow isn't promised&lt;br /&gt;But it's sure as fuck is coming&lt;br /&gt;And your body starts to shake&lt;br /&gt;As you sing in the streets&lt;br /&gt;Because it's cold outside&lt;br /&gt;So you better start running&lt;br /&gt;Don't count on me to save your life&lt;br /&gt;When I've never had&lt;br /&gt;A clear enough perspective on mine&lt;br /&gt;And I know things change&lt;br /&gt;we'll go our separate ways&lt;br /&gt;And alive is the only thing&lt;br /&gt;It seems we've stayed lately&lt;br /&gt;And the truth isn't always easy to believe&lt;br /&gt;You walk alone to the sound of your own heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;And I know it's not always so easy to see&lt;br /&gt;But we are still all so fucking beautiful to me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-2205509159192532960?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/2205509159192532960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/sweet-innocence.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2205509159192532960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2205509159192532960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/sweet-innocence.html' title='Sweet Innocence'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4215621626721203675</id><published>2009-09-06T21:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T21:13:09.510-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More complaints</title><content type='html'>No matter what I will never feel adequate.&lt;br /&gt;I will always be too ugly, too fat, too short.&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of what anyone says, I won't ever agree.&lt;br /&gt;I don't care if it's lies or not.&lt;br /&gt;I know that I'm not up to par.&lt;br /&gt;Everything I know is from life experiences.&lt;br /&gt;If I were worth it, why isn't anyone spending their precious time?&lt;br /&gt;Why am I ignored, overlooked and uninteresting.&lt;br /&gt;Why is everyone else I know having more fun?&lt;br /&gt;Having higher hopes, for even just a week?&lt;br /&gt;I want that feeling of elation.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be called pretty by someone other than the people who love me.&lt;br /&gt;I trust half of what they say, but I'm not on the same boat.&lt;br /&gt;Nor am I even a close second to them, whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;I'm in the nosebleed section of the bleachers.&lt;br /&gt;Watching.&lt;br /&gt;Empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4215621626721203675?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4215621626721203675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/more-complaints.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4215621626721203675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4215621626721203675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/more-complaints.html' title='More complaints'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1057994685498921793</id><published>2009-09-05T15:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T15:52:13.137-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah...</title><content type='html'>I am well aware that I constantly complain.&lt;br /&gt;Who doesn't nowadays?&lt;br /&gt;I was raised into this person.&lt;br /&gt;Always surrounded by unhappiness and whining.&lt;br /&gt;What do you expect?&lt;br /&gt;What am I expected to turn into?&lt;br /&gt;I am a product of what I've always known.&lt;br /&gt;Just like almost everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not angry that I'm lumped in with the over-complainers.&lt;br /&gt;But I want everyone to admit they bitch and moan as much or more than I fucking do.&lt;br /&gt;You're not holier than me.&lt;br /&gt;Nor do you deserve to be condescending.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck you.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck me.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck everyone and everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly can't give a fuck less.&lt;br /&gt;And if it seems like I give too much of a fuck, especially right now, then fuck it.&lt;br /&gt;All that matters is that if you don't like it, piss off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1057994685498921793?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1057994685498921793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/yeah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1057994685498921793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1057994685498921793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/yeah.html' title='Yeah...'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1933708362276377916</id><published>2009-09-04T13:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T14:43:51.861-06:00</updated><title type='text'>At a loss</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel I was dealt a hand full of failure and losses.&lt;br /&gt;But rarely, I get something good out of it.&lt;br /&gt;A great friend.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe some money for 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;Other than that I don't know what the point is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would just really like some finality with where I'm going.&lt;br /&gt;Some promise that says I'll be okay someday.&lt;br /&gt;I just want things to work out.&lt;br /&gt;I need some closure.&lt;br /&gt;Some reason I'm even here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All would be different if I had one of the happiness components.&lt;br /&gt;Beauty, money, security or knowledge.&lt;br /&gt;One would be just fine.&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't second guess my entire life as much.&lt;br /&gt;And people sure would like me better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1933708362276377916?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1933708362276377916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/at-loss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1933708362276377916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1933708362276377916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/at-loss.html' title='At a loss'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3794073797485424366</id><published>2009-09-01T10:26:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T10:38:43.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bah!</title><content type='html'>Don't ask.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;Questions unanswered.&lt;br /&gt;Promises broken.&lt;br /&gt;Completely imprisoned.&lt;br /&gt;Inside out.&lt;br /&gt;Visibly depressed.&lt;br /&gt;No future.&lt;br /&gt;No absolution.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;No one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lost.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3794073797485424366?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3794073797485424366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/bah.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3794073797485424366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3794073797485424366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/09/bah.html' title='Bah!'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1764363450360633595</id><published>2009-08-29T20:54:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T08:55:40.544-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm copying Elise</title><content type='html'>These are a few of my favorite things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading, laughing at myself, quality Anime, black girl/white guy couples, being ridiculous, learning something new, discovering new things about others, Elise and Leslie, stupid humor, intelligent humor, girls with red hair, the name: Nancy, classic names in general, hardcore/punk, buzzed heads, freshly showered men, free stuff, the help and support of those who care about me, Disney movies I grew up watching, cartoons I grew up watching, the thesaurus, foreign languages, realism, surrealism, middle school level math, RPGs, western civilization, caring just enough, doing hair for free, giving people gifts, 90's music, British literature, educational television, shows, fashion[to an extent], cable and local news, my brothers, new clothes and shoes, doggies, sizeable group photos, the Gilded Age, Elizabethan Era, tattoos worth having, morning, the Sound Of Music, Kingdom Hearts, Orson Scott Card, being over-analytical, e.e. cummings, picnics, any body of water, cold sand, water skiing, my family circa 1994, the smell of rain, 18th century art, thunderstorms, Plato, Voltaire, Socrates, a new crush, Christmas in Ohio, accidentally beautiful photography, action movies, layering clothes, classic beauty, documentaries, fruit juices, grilling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1764363450360633595?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1764363450360633595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1764363450360633595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1764363450360633595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/i.html' title='I&apos;m copying Elise'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1977929794525476851</id><published>2009-08-25T02:10:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T02:22:45.488-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So</title><content type='html'>In the next few months I have to get my shit figured out and move to either Chicago, back to Cedar Rapids or to Ohio. Although it'd be nice to be with my family all the time, I don't want to move to Ohio because I'd miss Elise too much and Leslie and I would definitely regret it within the first month. I do love my family, but I'm closer with my best friend than them, which seems messed up, but I don't spend enough time with them. It would lead you to wonder why I don't move there for that reason, spending time with them, but it's more than that and I don't want to be unhappy where I am. I definitely don't want to move back to Cedar Rapids because I don't want to live alone there, have a hard time finding rides to work and go backwards. I've only just left and I know I could take the bus to work, but getting home would be hard because the bus only runs until about 6:30pm. I'll most likely move to Chicago because my heart is there and Elise is moving there, too. She can't live at her brother's forever and so when she decides it's time, she can just live with me, which would be great. I guess I could handle living alone for probably a year, but I get so scared and paranoid. I just can't sit alone with my thoughts for too long because I know I will freak myself out completely. The best parts of it would be that the public transportation goes to many places and runs all of the time and that I just love Chicago. I won't be bored even when I have to go to places alone and I could maybe get a dog of my own. Also, I could probably work at Nordstrom again. I'll even work at the Rack. I hope everything works out for this and that I'm not getting too ready for letdowns, as usual.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1977929794525476851?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1977929794525476851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/so.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1977929794525476851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1977929794525476851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/so.html' title='So'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6397011756141240281</id><published>2009-08-24T02:17:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T02:21:08.794-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Elise</title><content type='html'>is the bestiest best friend ever.&lt;br /&gt;She's honest and giving.&lt;br /&gt;I like how she doesn't hide her feelings.&lt;br /&gt;Even if she is in a bad mood, it's great of her to still deal with me.&lt;br /&gt;I love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may be retarded to everyone, but I honestly do think she's number 1. [=&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6397011756141240281?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6397011756141240281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/elise.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6397011756141240281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6397011756141240281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/elise.html' title='Elise'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6543949933992350835</id><published>2009-08-19T23:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T23:53:44.278-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am so</title><content type='html'>scared, afraid, aghast, fearful, panic-stricken, petrified, shaken and terrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea what I should do. Chances are, I'll probably stick with the plan and see how it goes. I would like to have hope for myself, but judging from the previous downfalls, I don't. I'm only worried that I can't do it myself. But I know I have to learn someday or else I'm fucked. Seeing as I've thrown up, had a migraine and cried all my nervous feelings out, all I have left is a finicky stomach and sadness. I hate myself so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6543949933992350835?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6543949933992350835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-am-so.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6543949933992350835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6543949933992350835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-am-so.html' title='I am so'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7976133136064754921</id><published>2009-08-11T22:28:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T22:40:10.672-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All is unexceptional</title><content type='html'>Change is irrelevant&lt;br /&gt;Same dew at dawn as is at dusk&lt;br /&gt;No matter what, everything is the same&lt;br /&gt;Claim progression with no evidence&lt;br /&gt;The only place to go is down&lt;br /&gt;Keep your eyes high for mediocrity&lt;br /&gt;Smile for nothing more than slight adequacy&lt;br /&gt;Lend a hand of indifference&lt;br /&gt;Tell an ordinary joke&lt;br /&gt;Say you'll improve without advance&lt;br /&gt;Every moment means nothing&lt;br /&gt;Every caring shrug, careless&lt;br /&gt;All promises crushed&lt;br /&gt;No reason for assurance&lt;br /&gt;Lies are truth and truth is right&lt;br /&gt;Friends are acquaintances&lt;br /&gt;Handshakes and kisses are coequal&lt;br /&gt;Talking means nothing&lt;br /&gt;Words are empty&lt;br /&gt;There is no reason for affirmation when it's dead.&lt;br /&gt;No one is worth any time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not even yourself&lt;br /&gt;Same dew&lt;br /&gt;Same mold&lt;br /&gt;Claim and claim, but be a liar&lt;br /&gt;Cry wolf and be eaten&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7976133136064754921?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7976133136064754921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/all-is-unexceptional.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7976133136064754921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7976133136064754921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/all-is-unexceptional.html' title='All is unexceptional'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-9098216035723837275</id><published>2009-08-08T22:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T22:53:39.414-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I never thought that</title><content type='html'>The saying: "Ignorance is bliss" held so true to me. I never thought that I would rather not fucking know than be severely disappointed when I find out the truth. I hate that I can barely trust anyone and that I have to walk with my eyes crazily scanning all around me and sleeping with one eye open. I don't like feeling alone. I don't like feeling as though I can't just make every thought I have open to everyone. I want more from life. I want more people to be trustworthy. I want so much and so little from everyone. How hard is it? I'm aware that all I do is complain. I'm also aware that I myself aren't in any way perfect. I know I'm one of the people I speak about. I can't be trusted, nor can I stand myself either. What I know is that when I say I'm not going to do something or I am, I usually come through to the best of my ability. Seeing as I don't have things many people do readily available to me, I may fall short on many things. Such things I can't give my word on are never promised, just hoped for. All I'm asking is that everyone else hope to do what they say they will instead of having completely empty promises. I know that it's impossible for all humans to keep promises, but please, at least do what you can and hope for what you agreed to. I'm just so sick and fucking tired of everyone and everything being so desolate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-9098216035723837275?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/9098216035723837275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-never-thought-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/9098216035723837275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/9098216035723837275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-never-thought-that.html' title='I never thought that'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-8331595780050918305</id><published>2009-07-29T02:38:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T02:56:21.448-06:00</updated><title type='text'>To a degree</title><content type='html'>The more I think about my life as a whole the more disappointed I get in myself. I feel as though the older I get the more immature I become. Not socially, but responsibility-wise I'm going backwards towards childhood status. The things I wish didn't faze me are dictating my life. The people I barely acknowledge, negative feelings I get from every situation and society as a whole are running my entire life. I think too much and do too little. I need to evolve and get my shit straight because so far digressing in every situation thrown my way isn't cutting it. I'm driving myself completely nuts just breathing in and out. I have to do nothing whatsoever to absolutely anger myself. I need a leg up. I may not deserve it, but I'm so weak that I need the strength of another or several others to even live a semi-decent life. In order for me to not be alleyway box-ridden takes at least two people other than myself to make it so. I'm a pathetic being and I need to change. I need to get everything in order. I need to do so much in so little time that I may just spontaneously combust. Knowing that every time I seem to figure things out for me and become a somewhat respectable person then getting shat on in the end isn't the best of reinforcements. I need something more enticing, rather than blatantly realistic preconceived notions of my future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-8331595780050918305?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/8331595780050918305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/07/more-i-think-about-my-life-as-whole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8331595780050918305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8331595780050918305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/07/more-i-think-about-my-life-as-whole.html' title='To a degree'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6335579870555769</id><published>2009-07-18T19:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T19:40:42.528-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Every instant</title><content type='html'>I'm sinking further and further within myself.&lt;br /&gt;Feeling caged inside my head.&lt;br /&gt;Many passersby wander along with millions of different keys on their chains.&lt;br /&gt;I know every one of them has a key or several that would free me.&lt;br /&gt;Yet, like a nightmare, I yell with a muffled voice and they ignore my flailing arms.&lt;br /&gt;I've never felt more alone than I do everyday.&lt;br /&gt;Every new moment I'm cursed with more torture.&lt;br /&gt;It's although I'm dying of thirst, but I'm chained just far enough away for the water to escape my grasp.&lt;br /&gt;The din of the rest of the world gets so loud that I can't even feel myself breathing.&lt;br /&gt;Then again, it's so quiet my thoughts are screaming and pleading to be set free.&lt;br /&gt;My ear drums are broken.&lt;br /&gt;And my frozen heart pumps blood, no more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6335579870555769?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6335579870555769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/07/every-instant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6335579870555769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6335579870555769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/07/every-instant.html' title='Every instant'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-8625408429733615483</id><published>2009-07-11T15:12:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T11:24:30.812-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am</title><content type='html'>Still trapped in my thoughts, but now I have something worth reading to write. Rather than progressing everyday like everyone else, I fall back at a staggering rate and when I hit the ground it's nothing like the asphalt I expect, it's moist and soft. Before I can manage to get on my feet I realize it's quicksand and there's no one there to help me. I struggle and writhe until I'm neck deep and then just before I feel my chest compressing, somehow I find myself standing beside the pit dirtied and thankful I got out of that one. It seems that although I have heaps of bad luck, I somehow manage to pull myself out of trouble for what seems like a blink of an eye. The ratio of bad to good things that happen to me are out of this world and if this is how it's always going to be then I don't know what to do. Sometimes I sit for hours and think about what I can do next. The possibilities are on a short list. Sometimes there is no list at all. I don't know how to go about righting all of the wrongs in my life without some large amount of help from the people that have only taken from me because they are the only ones at liberty to fix me. That which broke me needs to put me back together somehow and soon because I don't know how much more I can take of myself in this state. I don't like who I've become for the most part. I want to be someone worth knowing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-8625408429733615483?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/8625408429733615483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/07/still.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8625408429733615483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8625408429733615483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/07/still.html' title='I am'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6628381715037815283</id><published>2009-06-04T01:20:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T01:22:47.239-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No better way to say this</title><content type='html'>I feel like I'm trapped in my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the walls are closing in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6628381715037815283?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6628381715037815283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-better-way-to-say-this.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6628381715037815283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6628381715037815283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-better-way-to-say-this.html' title='No better way to say this'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-8961606193034614095</id><published>2009-06-02T23:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T00:06:57.064-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Desolate</title><content type='html'>I feel so empty.&lt;br /&gt;I feel as though I'm drowning and I've been living in the feeling right before you die.&lt;br /&gt;I can't get a breath and I'm coughing up bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;There's a fluttering sensation my heart keeps making that's telling me to swim upward.&lt;br /&gt;Every time I'm right beneath the surface where I can reach up and my fingertips can feel the warmth of the sun, I'm tugged down again.&lt;br /&gt;Every tug pulls me deeper and deeper.&lt;br /&gt;I struggle and wonder why this is even happening to me anymore because I feel I should learn from my mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;I should gain some knowledge from my past as to not keep finding myself sputtering for air.&lt;br /&gt;My chest is so full I may burst.&lt;br /&gt;My lungs are on the brink of combustion.&lt;br /&gt;And right when I feel my soul starting to evaporate, the hatred and sadness within lets go of my flailing legs and offers me a gasp of sacred air.&lt;br /&gt;Right when I can taste the delicious fruit of reassurance, a worm peeks out from my apple.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-8961606193034614095?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/8961606193034614095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/06/desolate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8961606193034614095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/8961606193034614095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/06/desolate.html' title='Desolate'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6465639598812195257</id><published>2009-05-31T03:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T03:20:23.527-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a friend</title><content type='html'>Someone I know wants to watch Shark Week while a guy is going down on them.....uh, idealistic or what? I'll be taking phone numbers for said friend if there is anyone up to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear to your god that it isn't me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6465639598812195257?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6465639598812195257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-have-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6465639598812195257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6465639598812195257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-have-friend.html' title='I have a friend'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3774478784790327994</id><published>2009-05-26T02:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T02:34:19.892-06:00</updated><title type='text'>p0s!xc0r3!!!11!</title><content type='html'>I figured I should possibly write something that would give the two people who may read this the impression that I'm not some slothy ass piece of crap. I really cannot wait until I get things figured out and save some money so I can move to Chicago with Elise. I think that it would be the best thing for me since I've lived in so many places so far in my life and being in Iowa the longest is a little ridiculous. I feel like we would have the best time in a place like that and we would find what we've been looking for. We both seem to have lost a true meaning of happiness a while ago and it's no fun since we're always together and always down. I enjoy hanging out with her all of the time, too which is great given the fact we're both so blue. I know this was supposed to be a happy post, but I honestly have no idea how to stem off of good things when I write. People seem to think her and I hold ourselves in a smug manner because we know what we want and we don't waste time on sad excuses. So what if it seems rude of us to like what we do and act on our instincts? If it satisfies us, then shouldn't that be enough of a reason? Can't people just respect others that have a sense of honesty and maturity that they don't fall victim to childish acts as white lies. I believe when we leave we will be more apt to meeting people that look for such attributes that we hold. I know I make it sound as though as we're one person, but I've never found someone that agreed with me on so much and felt so similar as I on most issues. I'm mocked and talked down to due to the fact I've moved on and found true respect from a friend. Granted, I love all of my good friends and past "best" friends, but none of them have been able to almost fully understand why I am me. Laugh at me for putting you on the backburner. Poke fun because you betrayed me and were selfish. I really don't mind because I'm happier now and there's someone that wouldn't leave me out in the cold and lie to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3774478784790327994?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3774478784790327994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/p0sxc0r311.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3774478784790327994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3774478784790327994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/p0sxc0r311.html' title='p0s!xc0r3!!!11!'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1641981722252613442</id><published>2009-05-22T19:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T20:03:41.277-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dissatisfaction part: 2</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I find myself feeling really down about how unreliable or unqualified of a friend I am. I feel as though what I do or do not do for the help of my friends is falling shorter and shorter each day. I don't mean to be pointless, but I don't know what I can do or maybe how to react to what is happening. I love all of my good friends very dearly and I wish I could convey that in a very obvious manner. Also, I hope the advice I give is worthy enough to somewhat fix any problems that need mending. I love you. Elise be happy because you're a beautiful person in every way and you shouldn't know hurt and sadness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1641981722252613442?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1641981722252613442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/dissatisfaction-part-2.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1641981722252613442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1641981722252613442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/dissatisfaction-part-2.html' title='Dissatisfaction part: 2'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7433556793198421695</id><published>2009-05-21T23:07:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T23:22:45.549-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dissatisfaction</title><content type='html'>In my life I always find myself thinking of things out there that I don't already have that could improve it. I do acknowledge all of the people, places and things I do have that make me feel a sense of self worth although they are few and far between. I have about six true friends when not three years ago I felt as though I had thirty. I guess I can tell that I've changed for what I thought was the better, but I guess honesty and maturity aren't expected of 20 year-old people anymore. It seems as though everyone I've been "friends" with for the past few years have gotten more and more childlike with age. I hate feeling bad for wising up and gaining knowledge because everyone else is just too busy partying to be my friend anymore. I dislike sounding so obnoxiously whiny, but I have no other known ways to convey my stress. I just don't get why I'm less appreciated nowadays. I know I should not care because the people in my life still are the ones that honestly matter. And I do cherish that and those people, but sometimes I just yearn for something a little more...who doesn't? I just don't like that I may come off as unhappy to the people I love and appreciate very very much when I have nothing but respect and care for them. I don't like coming off as if they're not fulfilling their quota for me and I wish I could just give them the absolution of knowing that I love them. I would be nothing without these people and I would be in a crazy home somewhere, I'm sure. You know who you are and I love you so much. Thank you for what you've given me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7433556793198421695?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7433556793198421695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/dissatisfaction.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7433556793198421695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7433556793198421695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/dissatisfaction.html' title='Dissatisfaction'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-7210726615487640086</id><published>2009-05-11T14:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T14:17:45.412-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Clueless</title><content type='html'>How to fathom one's worth seems as though it should be easy. But day in and day out I ponder my place in this world and I don't see my point. Yes, I have friends and family, but I sometimes feel invisible when I'm around more than one of them at once. I don't place the blame for that in any one of them, I completely place it in myself. I'm easy to disregard and simple to not show much interest in when attention is paid. If I were you, I'd do the same to me. Everything I go through when interacting with anyone is my fault. Whether it's a good experience or bad, I steer the wheel with people and lately I see no point in trying too hard at all because in the end, everyone I meet is let down by me. In the beginning, my antics seem interesting, but the more you see them the less you can handle the type of person I am. But mainly, I just want to tell everyone that I apologize for the person I am and that I should change. I wish I wasn't raised into this person either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-7210726615487640086?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/7210726615487640086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/clueless.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7210726615487640086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/7210726615487640086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/05/clueless.html' title='Clueless'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-1786875563709469563</id><published>2009-04-12T03:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T04:09:07.153-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously</title><content type='html'>I miss when I was too young and naive to detest this world I live in. I miss when I was in elementary and middle school. I miss the music from when I was little. Everything seemed so much more honest and beautiful. People weren't writing or singing about how messed up the world is or how terrible everything was. They were writing about love and the prospect of being enveloped within. Granted, there was some musicians that felt otherwise, but there were few and far between in comparison to now. I'm definitely not saying that I don't like listening to music birthed from angst because we all know that isn't true. I've grown up and during that I became more into such. But, when I was young and felt nothing but love and happiness it was great because it seemed as though everyone else was in agreement. Thank goodness for 90s slow jams. I want someone to sing Sweet Lady by: Tyrese to me. That is my life goal. [=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update. A little over a week ago my roommate threw me out because I'm selfish and I take her for granted along with everything and everyone. Also, I apparently am a huge bitch and I use her and other people. I fail to be in cahoots with her as I have rarely been known as any of the above mentioned. Nonetheless, I now live with my best friend, Elise an hour away and I'm pretty okay with that. I no longer have a job but, I did speak with my [ex] manager about what happened and how I needed to resign. She said she doesn't understand why it happened because she never thought of me as the person I told her I was called. She also said I could work at that company again if i see fit. So, thank goodness for good people, too! In regardless, fuck the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-1786875563709469563?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/1786875563709469563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/04/seriously.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1786875563709469563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/1786875563709469563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/04/seriously.html' title='Seriously'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-5023071403632049210</id><published>2009-04-10T02:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T02:35:40.507-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I got the least severe level 3 years ago.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to &lt;i&gt;the Fifth Level of Hell!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is how you matched up against all the levels:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="1" style="margin: 5px; background-color: #000000; border: none; font: 10pt arial, verdana, 'sans serif';"&gt;&lt;tr style="font: bold 12pt arial, verdana, 'sans serif'; text-align: center; color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333;"&gt;&lt;th&gt;&lt;b&gt;Level&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/th&gt;&lt;th&gt;&lt;b&gt;Score&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/th&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #220033; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#0" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Purgatory&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Repenting Believers)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #3344bb; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very Low&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #110022; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#1" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 1 - Limbo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Virtuous Non-Believers)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #4466dd; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Low&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #220011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#2" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Lustful)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #ff1133; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #330011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#3" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Gluttonous)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #440011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#4" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Prodigal and Avaricious)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #550011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#5" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 5&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Wrathful and Gloomy)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #660011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#6" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 6 - The City of Dis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Heretics)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #770011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#7" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 7&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Violent)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #880011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#8" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 8- the Malebolge&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #990011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#9" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 9 - Cocytus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Treacherous)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #4466dd; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Low&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Take the &lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-test.mv"&gt;Dante's Inferno Hell Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-5023071403632049210?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/5023071403632049210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-got-least-severe-level-3-years-ago.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5023071403632049210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/5023071403632049210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-got-least-severe-level-3-years-ago.html' title='I got the least severe level 3 years ago.'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3029163730880181114</id><published>2009-04-02T03:33:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T03:52:15.732-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I said</title><content type='html'>I was going to sleep but I guess I fibbed again. Not on purpose of course, but this tends to happen from time to time. As, I was in the restroom washing up I thought to myself about how I should write a message to those I love in the event I pass away. I know, kind of weird because I'm all of 20 years old, but people die everyday so why not, right? Anyhow, If I ever were to die out of nowhere I would like to have a FUNeral. One that people don't cry at, but laugh at. Laugh because of all the things we did together. Maybe cry, but only because they're laughing so hard. I would like for there to be multiple pinatas at my funeral along with a live band that my closest friend would choose. I would like for this to take place somewhere amazing, such as outside in the lovely landscape. Also, party favors, such as little gift bags of candy and rice crispy treats with m&amp;amp;ms in them, would be handed out to every guest. If I die and I still look socially acceptable, I would like an open casket and for me to be in a party dress and looked all dolled like I'm about to flirt, but after I request that I be cremated as to not waste anymore space on this earth. I don't want religion to be involved whatsoever in my funeral because although that was me, it is not anymore and never will be again. I understand even the most Athiest of people get Christian ceremonies, but I'm just not going to go out with false hopes of heaven in the minds of believers. If anyone attends this shindig and they obviously had no respect for me, they will be literally thrown out like on the Fresh Prince of Bel air. I would like one of my favorite movies to be played at the wake along with all of my favorite music. Iksnay on the shittay. I'm not down for crap music. I would like all of the decorations to be bright and beautiful colors along with the mandatory attire worn and the tiger lilies all over the place. Every picture of me displayed has to be with the ones I love. My family would need to know and understand that I did and always will love them no matter how far apart from them I distanced myself. It was because I wasn't strong enough to deal with my problems correctly, I swear. Don't read this and be down about the subject, read with an open mind and just know that I will not be purposely offing myself and I don't hope to go soon, know that I'm doing this just in case because I'm a picky nitwit. [=&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3029163730880181114?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3029163730880181114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-said.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3029163730880181114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3029163730880181114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-said.html' title='I said'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-4243911067956520509</id><published>2009-03-24T02:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T01:03:45.058-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Right now</title><content type='html'>I'm thinking about how things fall into place the way that they do. Why do people fear confrontation and truth. Why can't things get handed to you on a silver platter when the less deserving get the special treatment. Who made the decisions that the sky should be up and the world should be round? I only sit in wonder because something somewhat frustrating happens and I take the time to try and figure out why. In that process I get deeper and deeper until I don't even remember what spurred such thoughts. I'm so stressed and my thoughts are literally screaming at me and my heart is racing as though there is a prize at the finish. What prize would it be for my heart if death where the shiny trophy or giant check? What if parts of you had their own thoughts? What if the couch you sit on got annoyed because you accidentally spilled crumbs on it? Maybe the crumbs are afraid of heights? Did they die on impact? Did they have families? What if you were the Godzilla in the life of a sandwich? Do you hold remorse for said sandwich? I honestly think far too long about the possible aspirations and thoughts of inanimate objects. I wish someone would just give me answers. Not necessarily about the seemingly pointless things that jog through my mind but of the "important" things. Like, why can't there just be life guiders people could go to? I'm starting to sound crazy, but I really would like to know some stuff. Nothing too wild, just random things that would really shine some sense onto a lot of things. Like, why do some people peg me as self centered? I don't get it. Although, what's new. I don't get much. I don't get satisfied or recognition or interest. I don't get a second glance or desires. I get what I beg for and what I beg for is mediocrity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-4243911067956520509?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/4243911067956520509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/right-now.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4243911067956520509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/4243911067956520509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/right-now.html' title='Right now'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-42488775639328044</id><published>2009-03-20T03:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T03:49:03.867-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We all know</title><content type='html'>I would be lying if I said that I am the same person as I was 3 years ago, hell, even 3 months ago. I have changed a lot and in my point of view it was for the better. Yes, it is blatantly obvious that I was "easier to be around" over a year ago, but from what I know the only things I have changed or improved are that I tell the truth at most costs, I don't let people walk all over me, I've gained more knowledge in music and I'm not fake. This doesn't apply to everyone I know when I say that people don't like who I've become. People don't like when someone is blunt to their face or when someone that doesn't really like them isn't nice in front of them. I'm sorry but I just can't do it anymore. I can't go around being super sweet to those I just don't respect. Also, I have starting talking less and less to people I used to be close with because although it seemed like I didn't care before I am facing the fact that some of my friends aren't too great of people. If it seems like I have "betrayed" you or turned my back on you it could be because of something YOU did. I'm not saying that every time I don't talk to you for a little while means you're an asshole, I'm just saying that maybe you should take a look at the whole picture. No one is perfect especially me. Definitely me. I know my flaws, I know when to hold back, do you? Do you think that all unfortunate things happening in your life is something or someone else's fault? What I've learned is that I should step out of my selfish box and just look at things from the outside. Granted, I don't do it every single time, but I'm progressing. It may not look like it now, but I'm trying to become a better and more realistic person. Speaking of realistic, I would like to get into the topic of religion. *GASP* I know that about a year ago I was Christian. I know it seems like all of the sudden I just changed my mind because it was "cool" and everyone else was doing it! But, that is not the case. I was slowly losing faith over time and there were a couple things just hurdling me into my current stand quicker. I no longer believe there is a god or whatever. No religion is the right one. If so, that's too bad because there are too many to beat out and none have a fighting chance, except maybe Christianity due to the fact that it is the most popular. Oh well, people can believe whatever they want to as long as they're not shoving it down my throat. That goes for everything, not just Christianity. We live in a free country for a reason, deal with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-42488775639328044?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/42488775639328044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-all-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/42488775639328044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/42488775639328044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-all-know.html' title='We all know'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-3250070469332238772</id><published>2009-03-19T02:51:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T03:10:38.583-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hopelessly</title><content type='html'>I wait around mentally alone wanting something or someone to happen. Every moment of my existence seems like a farce that someone from the outside is having a laugh at. No, not someONE some crowd of beings. Some large mega dome full of people with the driest of humor. People that wonder why I'm even wasting space on this vile earth. I can see a future featuring me in a straight to DVD movie encircling the joke that is myself. I realize that to those of you reading this, I sound like one of those people who ache for sympathy, but honestly, I'm usually not. I'm the sympathetic one, the caregiver, almost maternal even. I beg to be needed and thrive on being wanted. I overanalyze the slightest things people do in order to make me seem victimized. It's pathetic but I feel if people didn't include me in things, it has got to be because they did it on purpose. Know why? Because if I think they actually took a minute or even a second out of their thoughts to even intentionally single me out, I feel important. Again, I know it sounds exceptionally pathetic, but I am involuntarily in love with attention. I'm good at seeming spiteful towards it, but it's a huge act. And it's not like I lie about it either, I just naturally react negatively towards attention although now, we all know it's a croc. Call me out on it next time...I'll love every moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-3250070469332238772?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/3250070469332238772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/hopelessly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3250070469332238772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/3250070469332238772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/hopelessly.html' title='Hopelessly'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-9068026203348238205</id><published>2009-03-08T20:52:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T21:13:09.833-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Once upon</title><content type='html'>One lonely day of being invisible to the world, I realized something about myself and most every being in this entire universe. All things will be forgotten. Every person, every cause, every laugh, cry, smile, scream and whisper. No matter how much or little one or many has done for this world or any other, it will be overlooked and forgotten sooner or later. I was never that person who proclaimed that she would make any difference on a large scale at all. Maybe for the people I know and will meet, yes and hopefully, but I never planned to make people love or hate what I believe in. I know it's pessimistic of me to say, but in the end, no one will care. No one will give a second thought to whether Martin had a dream or Obama wanted change, because the world, amongst others, is a selfish place. Give it some time and you will see it if you don't already now. I'd bet when this earth comes to a devastating end, the beings, if any, on Saturn or in any other universe for that matter definitely won't give a shit, even if they do know what went down here. I don't want to listen to my parents say that I need to go to college and make more out of my life, because it doesn't matter what I do at all to someone else other than my child, if I choose to have one or my spouse if someone will finally decide to have me. What's the point in being so self involved to suck up all the money by becoming a high paid CEO or a sleep deprived doctor or maybe a hateful loveless lawyer? I don't see any point, except if they're running low and you find yourself vastly eligible, go ahead I guess. But, don't ask me why I'm not in college "bettering" myself, because as far as I know, all I need to do is whatever I please. I want to be happy and make enough to pay my bills, lightly spoil my potential child and myself. I don't want to be a pretentious millionaire with nothing better to do than buy things for themselves. And even if I ever were to stumble upon a life of riches, I'd bet I'd buy thing's for the deserving people in my life, since I do it already with the little money I have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-9068026203348238205?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/9068026203348238205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/once-upon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/9068026203348238205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/9068026203348238205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/once-upon.html' title='Once upon'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-2670244001027989181</id><published>2009-03-05T05:40:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T20:50:20.052-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Not really</title><content type='html'>Not on purpose at all, I said to a friend of mine that I was going to go to bed, but alas, I am here very obviously awake and feeling bad for mistakenly giving out false information. I didn't mean to. I completely had my heart set on unconsciousness but after getting up, cleaning my teeth and face then coming back into the room, I felt less weary. I'm now finding out this new wind was a short-lived falsification because again, I am very tired and feeling a little dizzy from being so. The human body is a mysterious place by which i cannot decipher, especially my own. You would think I'd know myself well enough to predict such a thing would happen but more than anyone else, I am most detached. I don't understand why or what I think or feel. I can barely give an explanation for many things I believe in or don't. The precursors in my life that have led me to these exact moments are the haziest of blurs that no man would be able to see with even the best of eyeglass. No deity of any religion could number my days or plan my next thought. Amongst everything I've known, I do know one thing: life or any piece of it is in no way predetermined. Nothing is fate. Fate is a fake as the gilded jewelry welfare mothers insist on wearing for any hope of a status climb. As fake as the nails the women partaking in whoredom buy with the earnings from their trashy ways of life in order to make a living. Possibly as fake as the love so many claim they feel for unsuspecting victims that they throw out with the garbage once weekly. Don't come at me with the fallacy of fate, come at me with rationale and reason, with the obvious proof of cause and effect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-2670244001027989181?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/2670244001027989181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-really.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2670244001027989181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2670244001027989181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-really.html' title='Not really'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-2388507149959722832</id><published>2009-03-03T22:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T22:43:23.755-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh my</title><content type='html'>I'm writing twice in one day, something must be up. I'm just so unhappy right now. I know typical and annoying of me to complain, but who the fuck cares. This is my damn blog and if you're reading it then I'm sure you don't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that about every 4 days I get all down and out. I know that there really isn't any explanation for it, but sometimes I just sit and think waaaay too much and wallow like a little bitch. Why can't I be privileged, why can't I have the things some people have. I know everyone thinks the exact same thing, but all I really want/need is a nice car. Like, nice nice. At least newer than a 2000, less than 100k on it and everything in complete impeccable working order. If I had only that, so much would fall into place for me. That's all I ask for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and for everyone to be okay with what I want to do for myself. It's my life, please accept that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-2388507149959722832?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/2388507149959722832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-my.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2388507149959722832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/2388507149959722832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-my.html' title='Oh my'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6561650098206113358</id><published>2009-03-03T12:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T06:04:30.799-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Live for this</title><content type='html'>I've been here pondering everything I need to do before I leave. I need to pay about $1000 in tickets and about $800 in emergency room fees. I decided that since I most likely won't have that all taken care of by the time I leave, I will just have them take $50 each from a bank account monthly. Good idea? I think it's the best I can come up with. And I know you're thinking, "Why the fuck doesn't she just move after she's paid, like, later on?" Well, honestly I can barely handle another month, week, day here. Prior to living here for 10 1/2 years I lived in 4 other states and many other cities. I don't know how I didn't just leave the day I graduated from high school because of how long I've been here in comparison to everywhere else. Wait, I know why, it's because my best friends at the time probably would not have liked that very much. Lucky for them I didn't have a magic crystal ball telling me that it won't be the same with them not a year later. If I would've known I probably would've selfishly peaced the fuck out the day before my 18th birthday. It sounds kind of mean, but as I get older I keep realizing that everyone just needs to do what they want or what they feel is right for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I'm stuck trying to get what I want to do figured completely out and explain to those who matter why. But, the people I love should understand, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEW TOPIC!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I potentially may get a second job. I don't want to, but I need to. My main occupation is very slow between the end of January and the middle of July. I only want to work 10-20 hours a week more and Nordstrom just can't supply me with that now. And every time they send out a "Who wants to leave early, because almost everyone can!?" email, it's hard to not hit the LVEA button and gallivant right out of that place. If I get a second job, I'd legitimately get the hours and money I need without the temptation of leaving early to be social or lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, question is...which of the two nearby businesses should I work at, the gas station or the Tobacco Outlet. Either way, both will hinder me from even thinking about quitting smoking. Ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6561650098206113358?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6561650098206113358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/live-for-this.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6561650098206113358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6561650098206113358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/live-for-this.html' title='Live for this'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2947502106480956658.post-6644516634088670175</id><published>2009-03-02T05:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T05:39:39.684-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Since no one uses Xanga anymore</title><content type='html'>I decided that I'd use this site. I need an outlet for me to stay healthy in the mental department and Myspace or Facebook just won't work out for an abundance of web logs. Also, a good friend of mine, Brea, uses this also and I'd like to comment on her everyday life while she's away in Asia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       With the psuedo introduction now set aside, I would like to address the ever so popular topic of The Male Species. Yes, I know...cliche as hell, but I'm at that age where everything I do or say will be construed as cliche, so fuck it! Anyhow, guys, why is it that so many of you, like us females, claim to want what is known as a "good" relationship but you totally avoid that by weeding out the somewhat pretty but curvy girls? I mean, there are some of you who don't but still have high standards in other areas.&lt;br /&gt;       Like, I'm not trying to pull the race card AT ALL because I'm several very different races myself, but like I notice white girls always get all the love. Like, for example, I started getting somewhat into this guy who highly insinuated that he felt the same way. Little did I know, after hanging for 10 days being all kosher and shit he just quit speaking to me out of nowhere. Apparently, according to Facebook because my friend told me and I deleted him, he got a girlfriend.(lol sentence) She was what the young'uns would call a "wigger" and she's about my size give or take 5 pounds. Also, not as pretty as me in mine or my friends' opinion. Granted we're biased, but we're not fucking blind and we don't really like to lie to one another. I just thought it was a bunch of bullshit because he was black.(first full black guy I've ever wanted to date.) And this brings me back to my point of white girls having all the fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;I would probably give any guy $5 to give me a valid and serious explanation as to why they choose white. I mean, I know I prefer white guys, but everyone knows that and maybe that's what happened with this guy? He just may've taken a race taste(ew) like I did and it just wasn't his bread and butter?&lt;br /&gt;WHO KNOWS?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I'm wanting to know is why white girls are always the quickest to get boyfriends in my experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2947502106480956658-6644516634088670175?l=erlizspi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/feeds/6644516634088670175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/since-no-one-uses-xanga-anymore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6644516634088670175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2947502106480956658/posts/default/6644516634088670175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erlizspi.blogspot.com/2009/03/since-no-one-uses-xanga-anymore.html' title='Since no one uses Xanga anymore'/><author><name>pursuingghosts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16490250058737720507</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_570JOFKPlCM/SbCXVcKsFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/c66RbUgYVaM/S220/n1178730255_30791984_8364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
