<?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-10703027</id><updated>2011-05-18T03:37:18.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dream Girl - Frances Lyn</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-112357341217944994</id><published>2005-08-09T00:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-20T14:22:55.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diminishing pain?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After so many &lt;strong&gt;months&lt;/strong&gt;, one would expect the pain to &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;diminish&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;After so many &lt;strong&gt;days&lt;/strong&gt;, one would expect to find another.&lt;br /&gt;And yet, all I can say is - these expectations were not fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not blogged for long because friends have spoke to me. Told me to stop blogging, in order to forget her.So I did. I stopped. For 3 whole months. I struggled through my &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;A Levels&lt;/span&gt; with immense difficulty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yet the &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ironic&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; thing was, my greatest struggle was forgetting her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We parted on Graduation Day on the 11th of June.&lt;br /&gt;However, fate brought us back together again on IS Nite as I thought I would not be able to make it. IS Nite, or Prom Nite. Where she,&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Frances&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, was crowned Prom Queen.&lt;br /&gt;The sight of her, looking more beautiful than ever, was enough to make my heart stop. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For eternity. But she was not alone. She was escorted by him. Her date for the night.&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Just that glimpse of her was enough to make me &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;forget&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; the pain I had to suffer, in order to make it there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was denied this pleasure for so many days. So many weeks.&lt;br /&gt;We kept in touch. Yes. But I could not see her. I did not see her.&lt;br /&gt;Not until yesterday. At school, to collect our &lt;strong&gt;results&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;To many, if was the day of doom. To me, it was a &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;heavenly delight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It was true, she was with him again. But to see her smile again was as if I myself had scored 3A's. My results were far from good and nothing up to par. But to see her again, happy over her top results AAB , made me willing to look life in&lt;strong&gt; the face&lt;/strong&gt; again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else matters with her around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-112357341217944994?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/112357341217944994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/112357341217944994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/08/diminishing-pain.html' title='Diminishing pain?'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-111434996913361331</id><published>2005-04-24T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T02:25:51.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Infatuation?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Can it be possible to still think of &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;her&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, amidst the preparation for exams?&lt;br /&gt;To think of her almost every minute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Study leave is coming up. And my heart is filled with &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#66ff99;"&gt;dread&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Not being able to see her everyday and anticipate her smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My friends keep telling me its &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;infatuation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;But is infatuation,&lt;br /&gt;Feeling your heart &lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;skip&lt;/span&gt; a beat everytime she's around?&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;stop&lt;/span&gt; breathing everytime she smiles at you?&lt;br /&gt;To feel your heart &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;crumble&lt;/span&gt; to pieces when she ignores you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;To go out of the way, just to walk pass her, in hope that she might &lt;span style="color:#ff9966;"&gt;notice&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;To want to end this life, knowing she will never return the &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You tell me. Is this &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;infatuation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-111434996913361331?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/111434996913361331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=111434996913361331' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/111434996913361331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/111434996913361331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/04/infatuation.html' title='Infatuation?'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-111148816045076941</id><published>2005-03-22T02:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-22T02:42:40.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you feel the Passion?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've tried so hard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For days, weeks, months to forget her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't. Its &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hopeless&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The only way I can ever forget her is to jump into a black hole and never return again.&lt;br /&gt;First night of&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt; Passion&lt;/span&gt; Concert, she was there. It was a night of pain as I sat there, hoping she would at least, notice me and say hi. She didn't. I could barely concentrate. There she was, standing by the door the whole night. Looking &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;beautiful&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Absolutely &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;gorgeous&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in her simple black top and jeans. Her black top was cut slightly low though, and that just complimented her even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#336666;"&gt;HE&lt;/span&gt; was there too. It's almost unbearable to look at them both together. It's bad enough in school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Decided to skip the &lt;strong&gt;2nd night&lt;/strong&gt; of Passion. Couldn't take it anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ending my life would be less painful than living it now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-111148816045076941?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/111148816045076941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=111148816045076941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/111148816045076941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/111148816045076941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/03/do-you-feel-passion.html' title='Do you feel the Passion?'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110976009321471941</id><published>2005-03-02T02:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-03T23:35:29.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Alone</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This message is to my one and only girl, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances Lyn&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Since i know she's reading this right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I never had the courage to go up to you and tell you my &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;true&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;feelings. And I regret that tremendously. But it is my belief that if two people are meant to be, they will. Although the pain is immense, I will &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#663366;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; reveal my identity to you for two main reasons. Firstly, because it might spoil our friendship right now. Secondly, because I know you're happy with him. If &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; was in the form of a person, he would stop for me, everytime I saw you. You are the centre of my world. I will continue blogging about YOU, because no matter what. I still love you. You &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;alone&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Let people say what they want. Nothing will change." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110976009321471941?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110976009321471941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110976009321471941' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110976009321471941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110976009321471941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/03/you-alone.html' title='You Alone'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110925099549086202</id><published>2005-02-24T17:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T05:19:01.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Dead Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;Sports Day&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw her - &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frances Lyn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Thoughts I thought I could never think of, came to my mind and played a game. Even though I sat from afar, I could see her so clearly. Even as clearly as I do in my dreams. She looked incredibly hot today. Her &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;energetic vibe&lt;/span&gt; made her stand out from the rest. And I wanted so badly, to just be with her that moment. To be able to understand her thoughts and dreams. And maybe, even to stand there and scream &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"&gt;incessantly&lt;/span&gt; along with her. I'm dreaming something that will &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;never&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm dreaming a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dead dream&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110925099549086202?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110925099549086202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110925099549086202' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110925099549086202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110925099549086202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/dead-dream.html' title='A Dead Dream'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110889052538938582</id><published>2005-02-20T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T01:08:45.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Weekend..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This is the longest weekend ever. I can barely concentrate on studying for the next test. My only consolation was that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances&lt;/span&gt;, my beautiful angel, uploaded new photos onto her Friendster account. My agony was once again, &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;diminished&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; by looking at her photos, like I do every night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Last night, I took the car at &lt;strong&gt;midnight&lt;/strong&gt; and started driving around in circles. I needed something to distract me from my pain. I drove firstly around my own neighbourhood. Then I drove to &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"&gt;hers&lt;/span&gt;. Round and round I went, until I saw the last light flicker off in her house. It gave me a sense of &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#663366;"&gt;serenity&lt;/span&gt; to know my darling was safe and sound.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;My &lt;strong&gt;A Levels&lt;/strong&gt; are coming up.&lt;br /&gt;I can't keep doing this.....&lt;br /&gt;What am I going to do??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110889052538938582?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110889052538938582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110889052538938582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110889052538938582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110889052538938582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/long-weekend.html' title='Long Weekend..'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110855232108975077</id><published>2005-02-16T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-16T03:12:01.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Whirlwind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Life is a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;whirlwind&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. It is a hurricane of emotions and decisions.&lt;br /&gt;My friends are telling me to forget about her. That she's taken. She's not mine.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I can do that. I talked to her today. Just a little before first period class started.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After that, I don't think I would ever have the strength to forget about her, no matter what my friends say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances Lyn&lt;/span&gt; is the air I breathe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Today was uneventful except for a small test. It didn't hurt that I couldn't do it properly. It hurt when I saw them&lt;strong&gt; BOTH&lt;/strong&gt; again. Coming out of the same DAMN Student Council room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It must be a &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;crime&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; for those two people to look so &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;perfect&lt;/span&gt; together.&lt;br /&gt;To look as if they belong together forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There must be some way to put an end to their happiness and a start to &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"&gt;MINE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Life &lt;strong&gt;sucks&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110855232108975077?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110855232108975077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110855232108975077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110855232108975077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110855232108975077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/whirlwind.html' title='A Whirlwind'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110838064747941395</id><published>2005-02-14T14:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T03:30:47.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Over-Rated</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The only word that defines Valentines Day is the word &lt;strong&gt;OVER-RATED&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;But I still wish a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Happy Valentines Day&lt;/span&gt; to all. Its amazing how couples are willing to spend so much money on each other, during this particular season.  I'd willingly give my all for her to notice me. To be able to go beyond a basic 'Hi' to an &lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;'I love you'&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I thought about it all night, and decided not to make any move today. I wanted so much to able to shower her with gifts and flowers and everything I could possibly think of, but I dare not. My heart yearned to cry out to her and say those three words, but I couldn't bring myself to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arrived at school reasonably early today, in the hope that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances&lt;/span&gt; might be there early. When I arrived there, she was already there, with her group of friends. I could only sit down at another table and watch from afar. Her red hair-tie was a change from her usual pink ones. Her school shoes were just washed clean. I reached a point where I could barely stand it anymore. I walked to the canteen &lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by myself&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. To distract myself from her.  When I finally returned, barely minutes from the first lecture starting, my heart stopped. I felt my world &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;crumble&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; again, as it had done so many times before. BOTH of them, walked out of the Student Council Room together. And that was ONLY the start of the day. Of my pain. Of my torture. Of my torment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the day was just a blur. Barely saw &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances&lt;/span&gt; the whole day. I wanted to concentrate so badly in class, but I could not. She was constantly on my mind and I kept thinking &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What if.."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; What if I had done things differently and approached her? Different situations continuously played around in my mind. My one and only consolation today was the fact that she smiled at me. The only reason why I'm still alive and breathing. My life is still a living hell. When will this all end and turn around a &lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;180 degrees&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110838064747941395?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110838064747941395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110838064747941395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110838064747941395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110838064747941395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/over-rated.html' title='Over-Rated'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110818814312932704</id><published>2005-02-12T05:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T22:08:36.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Gonna Be Love</title><content type='html'>Its &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;5:32am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; right now. Here I am, sitting and staring into this computer screen with nothing better to do. I had a dream about &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;HER&lt;/span&gt;. A dream I never wanted to wake up from. Me &amp;amp; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;"&gt;Frances&lt;/span&gt; were at school together, had lunch together and went out together. But it was all a dream. I woke up, filled once again, with the same desperation. Who the heck said &lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;dreams&lt;/span&gt; do come true? That's just crap. I can't take it anymore. I need to see her again. Why is Monday taking so long to come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This song is from her blog. Its been on my mind lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;"It's Gonna Be Love" - Mandy Moore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna be me baby&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna be you baby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time, I've been patient for so long&lt;br /&gt;How can I pretend to be so strong?&lt;br /&gt;Looking at you baby&lt;br /&gt;Feeling it too baby&lt;br /&gt;If I’m asking you to hold me tight&lt;br /&gt;then it’s gonna be all right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[Chorus]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be Love&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be great&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be more then I can take&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be free&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be real&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna change everything I feel&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be sad&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be true&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be me baby&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be you baby&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be...Its gonna be Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time, am I restless or a fool?&lt;br /&gt;How can you pretend to be so cruel?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it’s me baby&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's true baby&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's everything were dreaming of&lt;br /&gt;We waited long enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[Chorus]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its gonna be Love&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be great&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be more then I can take&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be free&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be real&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna change everything I feel&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be sad&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be true&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be your the one to do&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be me baby&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be you baby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sooner you let two hearts beat together&lt;br /&gt;The sooner you know this love is forever&lt;br /&gt;It’s gonna be love&lt;br /&gt;Love needs time now or never&lt;br /&gt;You really got to believe&lt;br /&gt;it’s gonna be strong enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;[Chorus]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;*************************&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110818814312932704?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110818814312932704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110818814312932704' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110818814312932704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110818814312932704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/its-gonna-be-love.html' title='Its Gonna Be Love'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110813125768210034</id><published>2005-02-11T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T06:14:17.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Should I or not?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Should I or not? Send &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;flowers&lt;/span&gt; to my dear girl, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;on Valentines Day? Without signing my name, that is, and without revealing my identity. It may be pathetic that I am still not over her, despite the fact that I will never have her. But my heart constantly tells me to hold on. What's a few hundred dollars, if only I could win her heart? I've been debating about the flowers for a long time and I still haven't reached a conclusion. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;"&gt;Valentines Day&lt;/span&gt; is just around the corner. Dare I send something to her? Or maybe not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Damn. As much as I like her &lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;boyfriend&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, I can't help but feel extremely jealous at this point in time. I stress on the fact again and again that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;GOD&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its unfair that he is so much more &lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;talented&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; than I am, &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;smarter&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; than I am, and more &lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;good-looking&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; than I am. Its no wonder Frances fell for him. But I've waited for so long - for about a year, to be precise. I know he only started liking her mid-year or so. And I waited so much longer. It just isn't fair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I read her Friendster profile everyday. BOTH profiles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.friendster.com/user.php?uid=6376160"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;http://www.friendster.com/user.php?uid=6376160&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;2) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.friendster.com/user.php?uid=11570247"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;http://www.friendster.com/user.php?uid=11570247&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Stare at her photos &lt;strong&gt;everyday&lt;/strong&gt;. Is that called &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;obsession&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;? No. Its called love.&lt;br /&gt;Read the testimonials her boyfriend wrote for her. I tried to feel happy for the both of them. Its not working. If she weren't so freaking &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;sweet&lt;/span&gt; everytime I saw her, I wouldn't be struggling right now. Its just that everytime I'm SO close to forgetting her, she just HAS say 'Hi' and smile her incredibly cute smile.  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Shit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110813125768210034?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110813125768210034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110813125768210034' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110813125768210034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110813125768210034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/should-i-or-not.html' title='Should I or not?'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110793095452458008</id><published>2005-02-09T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T06:19:38.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chinese New Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Happy Chinese New Year&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to everyone. If it were not for the fact that during Chinese New Year, we receive 'ang pows', I doubt I would enjoy this festive occasion at all. So far, I have managed to obtain a few hundred dollars already. But what use is money, when I can't spend it on her? School is re-opening on Monday and although it is in 5 days time, I am desperately counting the hours til I can next see &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; face. But. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Monday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; = &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Valentines Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Can I survive? I meant to tell her this year during &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Valentines Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; about my feelings for her. Change of plans. I will just have to watch from afar. I pray I have the strength to do so. She is always so happy around him. It just hurts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110793095452458008?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110793095452458008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110793095452458008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110793095452458008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110793095452458008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/chinese-new-year.html' title='Chinese New Year'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10703027.post-110787860538392099</id><published>2005-02-08T07:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-08T22:27:58.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Depression</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Its been officially a &lt;strong&gt;MONTH&lt;/strong&gt; they've been together and still it hurts so bad. The &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;pain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is immense. The &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;hurt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; incredible. But life goes on. And the least I can do is to post my feelings continually on this blog. Its the only way to release my true feelings for her, without anyone knowing who I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frances Lyn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is the only reason that I live. That I breathe the air I do each day. Her &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;smile &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;each day at school is enough to light me up for the rest of the year. I live each day for her and for the hope that she may one day, love me back. I've waited so long, but I have yet to tell her my feelings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^^^^&lt;br /&gt;This is my story so far. &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The reason for my depression&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;When school started, my heart beat even faster when she approached me to say 'Hi' and ask what I did during the holidays. My heart skipped a beat when she laughed and showed her &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;small dimple&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; on her right cheek. She had without a doubt grown prettier over the holidays. I was happy, finally seeing her after the holidays. My hands could hardly keep from &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;shaking&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; everytime I glanced at her. I wished I had volunteered to be a baby-sitter, so maybe I could help her out and take care of S1C. The first week of school was heaven. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; could be found everywhere, making friends with the Year Ones. Her ability to make friends only made me love her even more. My happiness was short-lived, however. Over the course of the first week, I found out some &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;devastating news&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that changed my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frances&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; had a boyfriend. It wasn't just anybody. It was one of Institute Sinaran's most eligible 'bachelors'. My heart was &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"&gt;crushed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; when I found out. I always knew she was close to him, but I had never thought it would be to that extent. My heart was full of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;regret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; for not telling her how i felt about her, although I've known her for about a year. However, I'm happy for her though. As long as my love is happy, I am...&lt;br /&gt;The next few weeks were a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;living hell&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; for me. I saw her, I saw him. I saw them both, EVERYWHERE. As much as I'd like to hate the guy, I can't. He &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;deserves&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; her. He's a really good guy and I know they're happy. STILL..Everytime I see her with him, my heart falls. There's this tiny bit of hope within me telling me I still have a chance and that I can break them up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;We're still friends though. Me &amp;amp; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frances&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Only because she has no idea of the thoughts that are running furiously through my head at this point in time. I have this photo of her, which I managed to obtain thru Friendster. Everyday, before I sleep, I will glance at it and fall asleep with images of her deep, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;brown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; eyes in my head. That is all I need to survive. Just being able to look at her beautiful brown eyes and sweet &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;smile&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. For the time being at least.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;^^^^^&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So, yes. You now realize how much &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Frances&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; means to me. I &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; her. But I can't get her. She's out of my league and she's taken. My feelings for her subsided over the past few weeks. But today, when I saw her in Centre Point, my heart stopped. My mouth went dry. I couldn't even bring myself to say 'Hi' to her. She barely noticed me. She was busy having fun with her friends and laughing. I couldn't help it. The feelings rushed back like a huge tsunami. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;How can I not feel depressed? How can I want something I can &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10703027-110787860538392099?l=mygurlfrances.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/feeds/110787860538392099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10703027&amp;postID=110787860538392099' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110787860538392099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10703027/posts/default/110787860538392099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mygurlfrances.blogspot.com/2005/02/depression.html' title='Depression'/><author><name>i_lovefrances</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16964680565164801086</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
