<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357</id><updated>2009-03-02T13:00:50.157+08:00</updated><title type='text'>cute giraffe</title><subtitle type='html'>i'm a cute little giraffe</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-115574112083172592</id><published>2006-08-16T22:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T23:12:00.926+08:00</updated><title type='text'>so old...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I hope the shadows will not catch me. I'm running as fast as I can, so that I won't fall back into the trap. In the past few months I feel it closing up on me, but so far I've managed to escape. My only choice is to run faster, or to eliminate the ghost altogether. I hope I can do so eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still very occupied with too many things. Even though I'm been unofficially sacked from the Dewar's pool, I still don't have time for anything. 24 hours a day is not enough. It is not enough! I need more than 24 hours. They just disappear. Time flies. I'm 27 this year. We've been together for 1 year and 3 months. Time really flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel really old. Told my colleague this, but he said at least I'm still in my 20s. I think it's a matter of what you've experienced too, not just by how many years you've lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heartbroken. Today was supposed to see him, but didn't get to do so due to some misunderstanding. All I want is just to see him. To be with him. Enjoy his company. Cuddle. Tomorrow I have this pool training that I cannot miss, so I guess it won't happen tomorrow either. Don't know whether he'll be busy during the weekends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday we took a drive up to Camerons. We didn't do much, just went up there to relax. I enjoyed myself very much, but mostly I liked that he wanted to spend some quality time alone with me. We talked and watched movies and drank wine and slept in and cooked maggi mee and took out the rubbish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The typical coupley stuff. It felt really good, as if we really had our own place. If we have our own place right now, we could have avoided a lot of heartache and missings. We would have been able to sleep together in each others arms every night. To cook together, laze around watching tv. Play chess. Have friends come over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first it felt as if I was really lucky to have landed this job, but ever since I joined the company, we've been arguing and arguing and arguing. Curse in disguise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurt a lot to hear him say that I'm irresponsible. It hurt because someone I loved dearly told me that I suck, and also because I've been trying so hard. As always, it is probably because I did not try hard enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tired. Feel older than my 27 years old. 26 and 10 months actually. So old, Cass. When will it all be over?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-115574112083172592?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/115574112083172592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=115574112083172592&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/115574112083172592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/115574112083172592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/08/so-old.html' title='so old...'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-114218057023273642</id><published>2006-03-13T00:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T00:23:09.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;When I was young, I never needed anyone. Making love was just for fun. Those days are gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All by myself. Don't wanna be all by myself. Anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will be going outstation tomorrow. I couldn't wake up in time to see him today, and I think he got pissed, so refused to see me till after everything else. Even now he wants me to go watch football with him :) Then he asked me whether it's selfish of him to ask that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to answer lar... :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't expect too much, won't feel so disappointed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-114218057023273642?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/114218057023273642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=114218057023273642&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114218057023273642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114218057023273642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/03/when-i-was-young-i-never-needed-anyone.html' title=''/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-114181705541348689</id><published>2006-03-08T19:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T19:24:15.426+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I did not go to work again today. I told myself I will, but I ended up in my bed till 4 pm. I wish I can just make everything okay. I don't want to be a failure. I don't want him to think of me as a failure. I don't want anyone to think of me as a failure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep getting this, few times a year. I cannot let it affect me like that, or I will have to find something that accomodates my 'swings'. I need to get out of this rat race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm pressured by my work. I think I just don't wanna use my brains. I'm so scared now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-114181705541348689?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/114181705541348689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=114181705541348689&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114181705541348689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114181705541348689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-did-not-go-to-work-again-today.html' title=''/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-114175498625349140</id><published>2006-03-08T02:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T19:24:59.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I totally forgot to note down this part that I want to remember forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He: Would you support my faith and let our kids to be brought up as Christians?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Of course I would love it. I look at you, and I respect your religious upbringing and I want our kids to be just like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-114175498625349140?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/114175498625349140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=114175498625349140&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114175498625349140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114175498625349140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-totally-forgot-to-note-down-this.html' title=''/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-114175443944269101</id><published>2006-03-08T01:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T19:25:32.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hello</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My periodic bouts of depression is back. I cannot bring myself to go to work. What is wrong with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, I would say things are great. Then why do I feel so useless?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves me so much, and shows me that. I can see that. Yesterday we spoke for about an hour or more, about our future. I'm really happy that he's beginning to think in terms of 'us', but at the same time I'm worried that I am putting unnecessary pressure on him. That wouldn't be fair, just like how I do not like people to have expectations on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two person asked me what happened to my blog, and whether I am okay. Is it that obvious that deletion of blog is related to emotional instability?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to pick myself up soon. Really really soon. I need to get out of this rat race very very soon. I cannot afford to stay here forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I really feel lucky today, to have him in my life. I was not okay when I was on the phone with him today, and he rushed home just to check on me, and to cuddle me to sleep. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-114175443944269101?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/114175443944269101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=114175443944269101&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114175443944269101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114175443944269101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/03/hello.html' title='hello'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-114156678991854232</id><published>2006-03-05T21:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T21:53:09.926+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>he came for the thing yesterday, and we made up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;actually he sent this really awesome message that just made me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything is great again, and i hope it will last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the price i had to pay? my friendster account, my multiply account, and my blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we can start anew. its okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-114156678991854232?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/114156678991854232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=114156678991854232&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114156678991854232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114156678991854232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/03/he-came-for-thing-yesterday-and-we.html' title=''/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-114146470110191949</id><published>2006-03-04T17:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T17:31:41.110+08:00</updated><title type='text'>saturday afternoon</title><content type='html'>here i am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at home on a saturday afternoon. usually i would have just gotten out of rolling on the bed with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been rolling on my bed, alone. listening to music. waiting for him to call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess this is the time when the saying is appropriate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you love something, set it free. if it comes back to you, it is yours. if it does not, it was never meant to be in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you yuan mei you fen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hold on strongly to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes i miss him desperately. just be stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's a gathering later by a mutual friend. i wonder whether he'll be there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-114146470110191949?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/114146470110191949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=114146470110191949&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114146470110191949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114146470110191949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/03/saturday-afternoon.html' title='saturday afternoon'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-114142041346434521</id><published>2006-03-04T05:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T05:13:33.483+08:00</updated><title type='text'>:)</title><content type='html'>when one gets into a relationship, it is just merely two person testing our their compatibility. after a while, if it doesn't work out, then no obligations. we just end it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it hurts tons. but i've had it happening too often. he doesn't know what he's doing. maybe you yuan mei you fen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i leave it to god. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is what you call external locus of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sad. but i cant cry anymore. no tears will come out anymore. i've been treated shit enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-114142041346434521?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/114142041346434521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=114142041346434521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114142041346434521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/114142041346434521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/03/blog-post.html' title=':)'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113902035352259326</id><published>2006-02-04T10:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-04T10:32:33.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hanging again</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Out with his friends. Do not include me in plans. Leave me hanging. Retaliate when argue. Get pissed drunk till can't remember a damn shit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What am I doing. What can I do. Stay and just let it fade? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Embarasssed of me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113902035352259326?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113902035352259326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113902035352259326&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113902035352259326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113902035352259326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/02/hanging-again.html' title='hanging again'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113890825221970403</id><published>2006-02-03T03:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T03:24:12.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'>things are going great</title><content type='html'>I just came back from hometown. When I was there, there were still sufferings. Basically he was out chilling with his mates all the time, occasionally remembering me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that I'm back, it's totally... different. I saw him for the first time last night, and he was really really affectionate. Like he really missed me. And all the good things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he was drunk and high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning when he was sober it was really sweet too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could it be because I no longer expect too much? Like today, we were supposed to be together at night, but I had to be away, and I didn't even feel insecure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This feels like a good year, as if my prayers were answered. I hope our relationship will be even better than this. Cos I love him from the bottom of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that I'm the one. And that I'm almost perfect, except that he really likes someone more feminine. How do I do this? I can't wear skirts, I have ugly legs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELP!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please God, let this be continue... let him love me more and more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113890825221970403?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113890825221970403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113890825221970403&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113890825221970403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113890825221970403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/02/things-are-going-great.html' title='things are going great'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113827430567228380</id><published>2006-01-26T19:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T19:18:25.680+08:00</updated><title type='text'>peak of it</title><content type='html'>I've reached the peak of insecurity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend said that sometimes insecurity is the cause of failure of a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it because I'm too free? I have work to do. I go out less often with people these days, but it's because I'd rather be with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can someone just say loser, cos I really feel like one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want him to tell me everything is okay. Just poufan, until everything is okay, then he can just let me be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate his friend. The things he say just make me feel worse. Maybe I should know better. Just keep away from negative people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't I have faith in him? Even if he answers late, or just don't answer, I assume he's busy talking to someone else, and would rather talk to them, rather than me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel like that? Can I take away the feeling? I need to be that strong independent person I once was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this love? I don't know what this is. This is a typical case of hand grabbing the sand tighter and tighter, finally to have none left, as it has all escaped through the gaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love me, please love me. Please love me. Please love me. Love me, please love me. Love me, please love me. I don't want anyone else, just you. Just you. Don't ever give up on me. Please never never ever give up on me, cos I will never let you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113827430567228380?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113827430567228380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113827430567228380&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113827430567228380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113827430567228380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/peak-of-it.html' title='peak of it'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113810533706501832</id><published>2006-01-24T20:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T20:22:17.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>who is the real me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My aunt just passed away and I cannot believe I'm drowning in sorrows and self pity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am so inward looking. I'm so insecure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I guess it's true. I hate myself, and I cannot forgive myself, I cannot accept myself for who I am, I don't like who I am, but I'm not changing myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm just so plain selfish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Perhaps he is doing it right. Life is not just about me, isn't it. It's not about ourselves, but other stuff, other people, work, friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm undergoing so much mixed emotions in me that I don't think I can deal with it. Do I really have to go through this depression year after year? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What is happening to me now? I'm so fucked up. I'm so different from before. This is not progressing. This is going backward. I'm not growing up. Something is not right here. Do I need a change of lifestyle or environment?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't even like being around people. I can't be bothered pretending to socialise. I hate so many people's guts. I criticise. I get irritated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is not me. Who is the real me? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113810533706501832?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113810533706501832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113810533706501832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113810533706501832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113810533706501832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/who-is-real-me.html' title='who is the real me?'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113808864565055023</id><published>2006-01-24T15:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T15:44:05.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'>keep him waiting 3 times?</title><content type='html'>Feel sad. My aunt just passed away. But I didn't cry at all,because I haven't seen her for a long time and was never close to her in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still self obssessed. A friend mentioned that to keep a guy wanting I should just reject the first second time and only accept the third time. My question is, if we are together and love each other so much, why are we playing games? Why should we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps a man would know another man best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was saying yesterday, I feel that he keeps more to himself instead of telling me things. He doens't even ask me what was my day like, how did it go and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's plain weird, but maybe I should just give him the benefit of doubt and just wait a few days before I complain to him. It's the least that I could do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the sex is sure great. It's sizzling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113808864565055023?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113808864565055023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113808864565055023&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113808864565055023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113808864565055023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/keep-him-waiting-3-times.html' title='keep him waiting 3 times?'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113802962044276549</id><published>2006-01-23T23:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T23:20:20.466+08:00</updated><title type='text'>communication and affection</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Things got much better since I blew up at him and told him exactly how I felt. Yes I bawled like a mad dog but I couldn't control myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ever since then he's been really loving and affectionate and all. Affectionate as before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But somehow I feel something is missing. Can I be sensitive again? The other day he was listening to these sad songs by this sad singer. And today when I went to his ex gfs site, I saw the songs posted there. No price for guessing where he downloaded it from.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Does he still have feelings for her? I should put myself in his position. I have exes. I keep in touch with them, but I have no feelings for them. But then again it's been ages ago. Is it possible they've become friends in such a short time with strictly platonic feelings for each other?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I feel that he keep more to himself these days, hardly really tell me how he feels. And then I will feel sensitive and be affected by it and in return, try to hold back. This is really bad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't wanna hold back from him. I love him. I want to share his thoughts and I want him to share my thoughts. I dont want us to have communication problems. We used to say that we have great communications. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Please let that remain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113802962044276549?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113802962044276549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113802962044276549&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113802962044276549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113802962044276549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/communication-and-affection.html' title='communication and affection'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113750732136870624</id><published>2006-01-17T22:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T22:15:21.376+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i want a love that will last</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;it hurts it hurts it hurts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;we are back together but it seems so different.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;yesterday we had really good sex, in my opinion. he told me he was really happy that he was with me again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;but today i  checked my phone and the last time he called me was 12 pm yesterday and it is 10 pm today. i mean ive spoken to him since then, since i called him, and i stayed over at his place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;what does this all mean? he used to call me after his work and all. what the hell is going on?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;does he only want me for sex? have i misunderstood yesterday? i felt that yesterday was really meaningful. i thought it was us making love. i thought he enjoyed it. i thought he said he's happy we are back together. i thought so many things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;and i keep thinking and thinking. what is he looking for?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113750732136870624?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113750732136870624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113750732136870624&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113750732136870624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113750732136870624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-want-love-that-will-last.html' title='i want a love that will last'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113714805114772054</id><published>2006-01-13T18:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T18:27:31.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'>two days</title><content type='html'>He hasn't called me for two days already. I saw T yesterday and she made me feel really really guilty, as if it is all my fault that our relationship is fucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want him to love me. Just love me. I don't think it's so difficult to love me. I don't expect a lot. I'm not dependent on him. So what's happening?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113714805114772054?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113714805114772054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113714805114772054&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113714805114772054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113714805114772054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/two-days.html' title='two days'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113699017758366490</id><published>2006-01-11T22:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T22:39:37.326+08:00</updated><title type='text'>lies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why talk about the future when we can't even pass the 9 months mark. I'm so hurt. So so hurt. Why did I ever let myself believe that I will be treated right, and that I will be loved again. It is all fake. There is no man like that in the world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to think that he asked why was I so quiet. I feel so fucked. What should I say that is appropriate? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His friend accidently blurted out about them having lunch together. He told me he went to take away. Why would he even need to lie about things like that? Why? Why? Why is it like that? What sort of person does he think I am? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so disappointed. Can this be fixed?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113699017758366490?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113699017758366490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113699017758366490&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113699017758366490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113699017758366490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/lies.html' title='lies'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113688533169768965</id><published>2006-01-10T17:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T17:35:13.016+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the next stage</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We managed to patch things up but things are somewhat different.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I feel hurt at everything, not realising that I am the only one holding on, whereas he has already moved on to the next stage of relationship. I am still needy, and I still want to be with him all the time, but he is tired of the honeymoon stage already.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Friends are more important to him, and he can run off seeing them even when he's sick. I feel that staying over at his house is a burden to him, because then he will need to take care of my needs. I'm still here, just waiting for his plans. He can just go off, without informing me of anything.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I think it's time I start doing my own things, and give him a taste of his own medicine. Or rather, move on to the next stage of the relationship.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My heart is so numb. I'm so stupid to just let go of myself. I need to take check of my feelings. I fell in too deep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113688533169768965?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113688533169768965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113688533169768965&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113688533169768965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113688533169768965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/next-stage.html' title='the next stage'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113662970180227732</id><published>2006-01-07T18:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T18:29:08.073+08:00</updated><title type='text'>never again</title><content type='html'>I deleted every single detail of him on my phone. His pictures. His messages, his number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really depressed. I thought we were for real. I cannot accept it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He called me this morning, telling me he was really drunk yesterday, and that his phone is wet and fucked. As if that will make everything okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him off, and after that, there weren't anymore calls or messages. I guess that's it. That's it. That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never fall in love again. Never. It is not worth hurting myself again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113662970180227732?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113662970180227732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113662970180227732&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113662970180227732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113662970180227732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/never-again.html' title='never again'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113657770962259021</id><published>2006-01-07T03:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T04:04:49.516+08:00</updated><title type='text'>That's all there is-</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is all over. We broke up. He was attending his colleagues wedding. And he was supposed to see me. But he didn't. He got drunk instead. And it just went on and on.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I mean nothing to him. He said that he couldn't leave. But come on. Who can make him stay if he didn't want to.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's all over. He told me to fuck myself. He told me that I'm a horrible person.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And I deleted all his pictures on my phone. And all his messages.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm so tired. I thought we could go somewhere. Obviously we are just too weak for that.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've been in KT for 3 days. He hasn't seen me for 4 days. And he doesn't even want to see me even though it's been so many days.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What sort of guy is that? I don't want him anyways because if we ever get married, he'll just be like what my aunty told me. He'll just make me stay at home crying with the four walls watching.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;:)&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is my life that I have fucked. Why fall in love when it's just gonna be fucked? Why waste time? This is an utter waste.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That's all. This is the story of us. There is no more stories coming. That is all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113657770962259021?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113657770962259021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113657770962259021&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113657770962259021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113657770962259021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/thats-all-there-is_07.html' title='That&apos;s all there is-'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113620270403527526</id><published>2006-01-02T19:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T19:59:03.950+08:00</updated><title type='text'>fucking asshole bitcheass</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She's supposed to call me back. But she didn't. So fucking pathetic. I'll confront her directly now since it's all in the open. Tomorrow I will speak to her. And if she's not around tomorrow, the very next time I see her then. I don't wanna play with these stupid games anymore. Pathetic thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113620270403527526?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113620270403527526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113620270403527526&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113620270403527526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113620270403527526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/fucking-asshole-bitcheass.html' title='fucking asshole bitcheass'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113619117783774252</id><published>2006-01-02T16:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T16:41:46.960+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Woke up feeling shit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I woke up feeling really crappy. I don't understand why must she do what she's doing right now? We are both working for people, and both of us look stupid if we are having this cold war thing. We both just want to earn a living. I don't know why must she feel so threatened. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So just what am I supposed to do now? Just bear with it? I had it with her when she said she couldn't comprehend my manner of communication. It's so fucking obvious she's against me. When I am not even doing anything to her. I have no ill intentions whatsoever. I called her and she refused to answer, quoting that she was in the middle of a training. As if. But whatever. I'll just give her benefit of the doubt. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I will call her today and talk to her, just to settle it. To see what is it that she's so unhappy about. Because I really can't stand it anymore. I don't even recall doing anything that pissed her off, unless it is my competency that is pissing her off. And making her feel small.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is not a good way to start my new year. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113619117783774252?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113619117783774252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113619117783774252&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113619117783774252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113619117783774252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2006/01/woke-up-feeling-shit.html' title='Woke up feeling shit'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113585411029082349</id><published>2005-12-29T18:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T20:17:10.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'>self reflecting moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Everyone's self reflecting these days, seeing that it's the end of the year. Others are also coming up with a list of new year resolution that will probably be abandoned by week 2 anyways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's been a good year for me, on a scale of 1 - 10, I would rate it a 7.5. Why? &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My relationship with family members sucked big time back then. I hated the fact that at this age they still wanted to control the things I do and so on. But now they have finally realised that hey it's my life. So if I do things that they don't normally approve of, now they will just 'close one eye' and by doing that, I don't shut them out either. I love you mom and dad. I love both of you. Thank you for finally accepting that I am different from the rest. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Love life. Good. I met someone really special early this year and I really appreciate him. It's not like before, in the past, when I just took relationships easily. For once, I need this person, and I want this person. I don't get bored after 3 months. I don't need my personal space after seeing each other for one week straight. My whole perception on relationship is different. I'm more serious now. And I'm really proud of that. Thank you for coming into my life and changing it. I love you. You are indeed my lucky star. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Workwise, I got out of a stressful ditch and found myself a less stressful job, but much much more fulfilling. There's food for my brain, and I need that. I'm about to be confirmed with an increment coming. I'm not sure whether the increment is huge or small cos it doesn't really matter to me. Of course if there is an increment my life would be more comfortable. But I seriously don't care much for money, as long as I can make enough to survive. Oh, having some extra now to pay off my credit card bills would be great too. In some ways, I've become less ambitious. I don't wanna climb any corporate ladder. I don't wanna conquer the world or win any award. My focus is different now. I want to be in a job where I can at least play a part in trying to make the world a better place. I know you're thinking I stole this off the script of Ms. Universe. It's the truth. I really want to make the world a better place. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Moneywise - I'm making enough to survive, but like I said. It sure would be nice if I could get some extra cash to pay off the credit card bills. I don't even remember spending so much money :)&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;ONE HUGE REALISATION that came to me was this. I'm a &lt;strong&gt;horrible judge of character&lt;/strong&gt;. I always seem to trust people too easily, and then get hurt or get into shit when I finally get to know their true selves. I hope to improve on that. It's painful to think that the person might not be who I think they are the next time I see them. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That's about it. My priorities have changed too. But for the better. I'm very sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113585411029082349?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113585411029082349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113585411029082349&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113585411029082349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113585411029082349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2005/12/self-reflecting-moments.html' title='self reflecting moments'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20294357.post-113584257982890368</id><published>2005-12-29T15:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T15:58:01.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'>emotionally &amp; financially stressing gf</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Missed work today. Two more days before NYE celebration. Everyone's excited. I'll be at Westin with his friends. There's supposedly a theme to the celebration. Sports? So that the girls can come in their stupid little tennis skirt? I'll bring my fucking taekwando uniform, how?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I think I'm being too bitter about things. Feel old feel old feel old. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Like we had a discussion yesterday on what's fun and what's not. He said he feels old. That he's depressed because nothing seems as fun anymore. Not even clubbing. He seems to place a lot of importance in clubbing. Even thought that it'll be cool to be 35 and still clubbing. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I think it's just fucking pathetic. At 10 you play with your dolls. You don't continue playing with it at 20. So at 35 I'm sure there are other form of entertainment that would be equally as fun as clubbing at 25, isn't it?? &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Like catching up with friends. Wine appreciation. Music? Reading? Spending time with loved ones? &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He said he feels that there's so little time for anything. For his million. I say DAMN RIGHT. We are not young. But since when is money so important? I'm not even putting the stress on him. It's self induced. And you can't blame me for it. So why are you putting the pressure on yourself? &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I just read this post by some &lt;a href="http://oysterlicker.blogspot.com/2005/11/turning-down-employment-offers-burning.html"&gt;oysterman.&lt;/a&gt; He said, dump gfs who's causing you financial and emotional stress. From his pov, I must be precisely that sort of girlfriend. The one who's causing financial and emotional stress. Except that I'm not even doing that directly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20294357-113584257982890368?l=cutegiraffe.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/113584257982890368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20294357&amp;postID=113584257982890368&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113584257982890368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20294357/posts/default/113584257982890368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cutegiraffe.blogspot.com/2005/12/emotionally-financially-stressing-gf.html' title='emotionally &amp; financially stressing gf'/><author><name>cass!</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04218585800373943352'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>