<?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-3992462830308581942</id><updated>2012-02-14T01:59:30.867-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unconditionally Me.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>158</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3801834339173651736</id><published>2011-02-08T21:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T21:35:26.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To whom do I point my finger at?</title><content type='html'>It's hard to put blame on someone, and say whom is at fault. Everyone believes that they are right. Even when confronted with a different perspective, their own perspective still stands strong in their minds. The way I see it is that, you can never fix things and move on unless you understand and accept the concept that you can be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; wrong.&lt;/span&gt; So, with that being said, I've gotten into this horrible habit of always putting the blame on me. I always find fault within myself. And people actually do try to put the blame on me for things as well. Things that I don't believe are my fault. But now I'm at a crossroad. The blame is put on me, but I'm also at fault for always blaming myself, but I feel as though I'm not the one to blame. But I'm the type of person who feels terrible for putting the blame on someone else. But honestly, this is tearing me apart. I didn't do this, you did. And I'm the only one getting hurt. Man up. If you have any pride at all, you'll take responsibility for this, and do something about it. Fix it. Because I'm falling apart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-3801834339173651736?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3801834339173651736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3801834339173651736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3801834339173651736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3801834339173651736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2011/02/to-whom-do-i-point-my-finger-at.html' title='To whom do I point my finger at?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-133447100820723910</id><published>2011-02-06T21:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T21:35:37.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eating me alive from the inside.</title><content type='html'>It feels as if I’m being eaten alive from the inside out. I thought I was getting better. I thought I was improving. I mean, I had taken all the right steps. I was doing everything that I was supposed to do. I don’t understand how this is happening, or why. What am I doing wrong? Where do I go from here? How do I get better? I can’t keep pretending that things are going to get better. I can’t live a lie and hope that one day that lie becomes the truth. It’s like how you can’t pretend you’re happy, and hope that one day you’ll just become happy. Life is real. And every part of it has to be real too. I can’t run away anymore either. I can’t keep running away and hiding and ‘taking breaks’ every time life becomes too hard and I can’t handle things anymore. I can’t just drop everything and everyone and move on either. So I’m running out of options. I don’t understand how I can be doing so well but not feeling so well about it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do -where I’m supposed to go from here. All I know is that, this isn’t okay right now. And really, all I want to do is take a break from the world, run and hideaway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-133447100820723910?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/133447100820723910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=133447100820723910' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/133447100820723910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/133447100820723910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2011/02/eating-me-alive-from-inside.html' title='Eating me alive from the inside.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3728859962581131922</id><published>2011-02-06T21:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T21:33:58.054-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wait.</title><content type='html'>I still wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still hope that one day you’ll call me up and ask if I have some time to spend with you. I still hope that one day you’ll start a conversation first with me. I still hope that sometimes, when you’re all alone, or maybe if you’re in a crowd, you’ll think of me. I still hope that sometimes you miss me. I still hope that going somewhere we’ve been, triggers a memory, and makes you think of me. I still hope that deep inside, that you miss me - maybe, just maybe, as much as I miss you. I still hope that you know that I have never walked away from you, nor will I ever. I still hope that you know that your place in my heart is as big as it always has been. I still hope that you know that if you needed me, I’d be there in a instant. I hope you know that there is no anger associated with you in my mind. I hope you understand someday, how much you still mean to me, and how it hurts now more than ever. I still wait for the day that we can have more than a generic conversation, because we are both engaged, and we both are genuinely there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still wait for the day that you understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still wait for the day that you miss me back just as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still wait for the day you decide to call me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day that you want to start over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day that you want to rebuild again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day that you want to sincerely let go of the mistakes, and the hurt that we have both caused and endured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day that we can both say we’re sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day we can honestly in our hearts forgive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day we realize where we are now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day that we both realize it’s still not too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the day that I’ve been praying about in my heart, will become one day soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-3728859962581131922?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3728859962581131922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3728859962581131922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3728859962581131922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3728859962581131922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-wait.html' title='I wait.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7914750056488549695</id><published>2010-10-11T23:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T23:14:34.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We all need something to believe in.</title><content type='html'>So where is my something? I don't believe in myself that much. And when I believe in other people, most times they let me down. So who do I believe in? God? But how can we believe in a God who, although have made such great things happen, have also let such horrible things happen in life. I know religion is all about having faith in a higher power, but should I even be asking God to prove that he exists? Maybe because I say he doesn't exist, to me, he doesn't. But that's not right. Well, God. Life feels like such shiet right now. So I guess that means...I should put even more faith in you than ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love Always,&lt;br /&gt;Me &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7914750056488549695?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7914750056488549695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7914750056488549695' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7914750056488549695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7914750056488549695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-all-need-something-to-believe-in.html' title='We all need something to believe in.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3542816773795513164</id><published>2010-10-03T01:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T02:00:10.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been quite a while</title><content type='html'>Well, I've missed you blogger. I really have. And trust me, not much has changed. Still the troubled rebel teen. Some things never do change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-3542816773795513164?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3542816773795513164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3542816773795513164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3542816773795513164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3542816773795513164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/10/its-been-quite-while.html' title='It&apos;s been quite a while'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1761489065806550388</id><published>2010-05-17T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T22:49:32.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Shall Not Let Myself Fall...</title><content type='html'>Have you ever convinced yourself out of liking someone, or anyone in general, because you won't allow yourself to get hurt? I can't decide whether this is a good method or not. Am I protecting my own self too much? am I sheltering my self in such a way that I don't let the bad nor the good happen to me? I know fate is fate, and what shall happen shall happen, but in a way, I'm stopping fate, and I'm changing what could happen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh @#$%^.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm messing with the universe again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1761489065806550388?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1761489065806550388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1761489065806550388' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1761489065806550388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1761489065806550388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-shall-not-let-myself-fall.html' title='I Shall Not Let Myself Fall...'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3733414229122658411</id><published>2010-05-12T22:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T22:52:19.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Can I Say?</title><content type='html'>I have a secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's keep it between us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could change myself, I'd be 20lbs skinnier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd do anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-3733414229122658411?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3733414229122658411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3733414229122658411' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3733414229122658411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3733414229122658411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-can-i-say.html' title='What Can I Say?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4454755071283844762</id><published>2010-04-29T11:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T11:38:49.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mysteries in life.</title><content type='html'>What is wrong with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I ever be loved?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4454755071283844762?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4454755071283844762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4454755071283844762' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4454755071283844762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4454755071283844762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/04/mysteries-in-life.html' title='Mysteries in life.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6918501970214549483</id><published>2010-04-15T23:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T23:33:18.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Essence.</title><content type='html'>My essence,&lt;br /&gt;bottled and capped,&lt;br /&gt;Each breath you take,&lt;br /&gt;Feel it.&lt;br /&gt;Take it in.&lt;br /&gt;It captivates you,&lt;br /&gt;And you’re drawn to my love,&lt;br /&gt;But my essence starts to leak,&lt;br /&gt;You catch them like drops of rain,&lt;br /&gt;Please,&lt;br /&gt;Pour them back into me,&lt;br /&gt;Who am I without what I am?&lt;br /&gt;You’ll always have a part of me,&lt;br /&gt;But please don’t take what you don’t need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6918501970214549483?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6918501970214549483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6918501970214549483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6918501970214549483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6918501970214549483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-essence.html' title='My Essence.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6882801131502826855</id><published>2010-04-15T23:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T23:05:35.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Battlefield.</title><content type='html'>Love and life is a battlefield,&lt;br /&gt;&amp; Ask yourself,&lt;br /&gt;"Who are you fighting for?"&lt;br /&gt;"What do you stand for?"&lt;br /&gt;"And what does that say?"&lt;br /&gt;"Would you be proud to go down that way?"&lt;br /&gt;Your words cut like knives,&lt;br /&gt;But your actions are killer,&lt;br /&gt;The lies and the truths are nothing but fillers,&lt;br /&gt;Love is nothing without trust on it's side,&lt;br /&gt;Trust must be given,&lt;br /&gt;&amp; Will be received in time,&lt;br /&gt;So pick your battles,&lt;br /&gt;&amp; Pick your wars,&lt;br /&gt;Always look ahead,&lt;br /&gt;But never straight forward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6882801131502826855?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6882801131502826855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6882801131502826855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6882801131502826855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6882801131502826855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/04/battlefield.html' title='A Battlefield.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4325705567538788547</id><published>2010-04-15T00:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T00:59:20.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sonnets :O</title><content type='html'>Feeling kind of lost on roads I walk on,&lt;br /&gt;Trying to find my footsteps within a crowd,&lt;br /&gt;Walking in all directions until I'm gone,&lt;br /&gt;I try to hear the silence though it's loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some paths I wish I didn't choose,&lt;br /&gt;But wrong or right they've taken me to here,&lt;br /&gt;Got everything to gain, but none to lose,&lt;br /&gt;Live life in doubt is to live life in fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole world lies in front of my own eyes,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not quite sure where I want to go,&lt;br /&gt;I'll listen to the truths as well as lies,&lt;br /&gt;The heart will know just where it wants to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But is there even more out there for me?&lt;br /&gt;I guess there's more to life than what I see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4325705567538788547?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4325705567538788547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4325705567538788547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4325705567538788547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4325705567538788547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/04/sonnets-o.html' title='Sonnets :O'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-452913554542241601</id><published>2010-03-20T00:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T00:50:27.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am feeling kind of lost.</title><content type='html'>I am feeling kind of lost.&lt;br /&gt;Footsteps all surround me,&lt;br /&gt;I try to find my own,&lt;br /&gt;I get tangled up in everyone's paths,&lt;br /&gt;Our paths intertwine,&lt;br /&gt;Like knots in shoelaces,&lt;br /&gt;They're knots that I'd never untie,&lt;br /&gt;Circling around,&lt;br /&gt;I pace to find it,&lt;br /&gt;Where all the knots become one,&lt;br /&gt;Circling around,&lt;br /&gt;I pace to find it,&lt;br /&gt;I pace to find the unknown.&lt;br /&gt;I am feeling kind of lost.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-452913554542241601?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/452913554542241601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=452913554542241601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/452913554542241601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/452913554542241601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-feeling-kind-of-lost.html' title='I am feeling kind of lost.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1843558855975231441</id><published>2010-03-15T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T20:17:22.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes...&lt;br /&gt;I feel so betrayed and hurt.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it feels as if I have had been SO hurt that I don't even try to touch the wound anymore. &lt;br /&gt;It's not even a wound, it's a GASH and no one even cares even to try and make it better. &lt;br /&gt;I am so done putting in all the effort, I have given up trying.&lt;br /&gt;I am so done putting up with everyone's shit.&lt;br /&gt;I am so sick of looking like the bad person.&lt;br /&gt;I am NOT the bad person.&lt;br /&gt;No one even cares about me.&lt;br /&gt;No one truly even cares about me.&lt;br /&gt;Because the people I thought once cared about me the most...&lt;br /&gt;well it was all a lie.&lt;br /&gt;Everything was a lie.&lt;br /&gt;It was silly of me to believe it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone ends up leaving in the end.&lt;br /&gt;And everyone ends up stabbing you right in the heart right before they leave too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1843558855975231441?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1843558855975231441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1843558855975231441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1843558855975231441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1843558855975231441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/03/ugh.html' title='Ugh.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5224959552106044726</id><published>2010-03-05T15:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T22:29:13.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fighting.</title><content type='html'>"Why am I still fighting? Why doe it feel like I'm the only one fighting to keep everyone in my life? Why does it feel more like I'm fighting to keep myself in everyone else's life? people are wrong about war. If you're the only one left fighting on the battlefield, it doesn't make you the winner, it in fact makes you the loser. Why won't anyone fight for me? why won't anyone else fight for me to be in their lives? Why should I have to be the one to fight? I get nothing out of it. I am so frustrated with everything and my life. I don't understand how the people who were so close to me can now watch me fall to pieces. You used to be there to make sure I never fell, and if anything that you were there to catch, me. You used to make it seem like it was impossible to see me unhappy or hurt. You felt that way because you cared about me. Now when you see me, you just feel bad. Not that you don't care about me, I bet you do, but you don't do anything. I am important. I'm sure I am, but not as important. I can never be again what I once was to all of you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5224959552106044726?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5224959552106044726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5224959552106044726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5224959552106044726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5224959552106044726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/03/fighting.html' title='Fighting.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7791805500796797352</id><published>2010-03-05T00:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T00:28:37.448-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Greed. (Finders Keepers)</title><content type='html'>"Sometimes it feels as if everyone is leaving. They used to all be there and no matter how greedy it seems, I wanted to keep them forever. We can't all get what we want in life, but I really wanted to. I wanted to have it all. I wanted it because I don't know if I could be by myself with out it all. Nothing feels the same anymore. It used to all be so different. I used to always preach about happiness, and I finally realized that it was easy to preach because I already had it. I was happy and content and care free. What happened to the people I used to depend on the most? Why does it always feel as if I'm the only fighting? Sometimes it just feels as if I'm the only one who cares enough to fight. I know I'm not alone. I know there are a lot of people who are there for me, but I still feel so alone. Why. I just want to know why. Why can't I let myself try to be happy? I did try. And I was almost okay, and I almost had that one moment of care free bliss. But within an instance, it was gone and I have no idea why I let it go, and if it was even in my power to let it go. Maybe, deep down inside I know that I'm not going to try and feel better again because I will always be this greedy.I will always want so many things and i know I'm not going to be happy without them. I'm a greedy person. I know greed corrupts us all...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7791805500796797352?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7791805500796797352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7791805500796797352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7791805500796797352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7791805500796797352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/03/greed-finders-keepers.html' title='Greed. (Finders Keepers)'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-984150440218999460</id><published>2010-03-03T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T23:31:03.427-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Break Down.</title><content type='html'>So I learned that trying to keep everything together is not the same thing as actually having everything together. Everything built up and I couldn't stop it, I just finally broke down in the bathroom at school. It felt horrible. My eyes got all red and swollen and it just really sucks. I feel so helpless sometimes...I can't help it. I honestly wish I could get away from everyone. I feel horrible because I always get hurt..&amp; it's just so easy for me to get hurt by someone. I'm really really fragile right now, and I feel like within an instance I could just break. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can even break more then once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else is there left to break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pieces left?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-984150440218999460?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/984150440218999460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=984150440218999460' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/984150440218999460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/984150440218999460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/03/break-down.html' title='Break Down.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3712234497389857779</id><published>2010-02-20T00:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T00:35:58.048-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Strong.</title><content type='html'>Oh darling,&lt;br /&gt;Don't let these tears reign over you,&lt;br /&gt;Be strong and watch them fade away,&lt;br /&gt;They roll down the sides of your porcelain skin,&lt;br /&gt;Let them roll right off of your face,&lt;br /&gt;Don't let yourself sink it too deep,&lt;br /&gt;Or be dragged off far away,&lt;br /&gt;Running is never the hard part,&lt;br /&gt;The hard part is always staying,&lt;br /&gt;So stay for all the things to stay for,&lt;br /&gt;And all you have left to say,&lt;br /&gt;Don't let yourself feel hurt,&lt;br /&gt;And don't let yourself feel this way,&lt;br /&gt;Don't feel so down and lowly,&lt;br /&gt;And even try to say,&lt;br /&gt;That any hurt you've been thru, you deserved to feel that way,&lt;br /&gt;So let yourself feel strong and proud,&lt;br /&gt;And ignore the things they say,&lt;br /&gt;The only thing to remember is that;&lt;br /&gt;You're as strong as you let yourself believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-3712234497389857779?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3712234497389857779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3712234497389857779' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3712234497389857779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3712234497389857779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/02/be-strong.html' title='Be Strong.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4005842865167794916</id><published>2010-02-18T23:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T23:48:33.142-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Does One Move On?</title><content type='html'>"When moving on you must decide what you keep and what you let go of. Thats another one of my problems. I want to hold on to the good memories and everything good that is left, but the problem for me is that when I hold on to the good memories I want to relive them and make them a reality again. But then, if I don't hold onto the good memories, what does that mean? That I should hold onto the bad memories? But bad memories just bring pain and unhappiness and I don't want that either. So what does that mean for me? They are both really big loads to carry and at the same time, sure it might be easier to not even carry the loads at all, but is it worth just not carrying at all? I want to let go of the bad memories because I want to be able to forgive and move on, but when left with just good memories, won't it just remind me of how these good memories are just good memories and won't that just bring me back to bad memories. I'm also afraid of false hope. False hope towards how maybe things will be the same again, some way, some how, but disappointment after a false hope? I don't think I could handle that at. all. "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4005842865167794916?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4005842865167794916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4005842865167794916' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4005842865167794916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4005842865167794916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/02/how-does-one-move-on.html' title='How Does One Move On?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5776872573338973960</id><published>2010-02-18T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T22:39:00.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Passage..</title><content type='html'>I think for now I'm just going to post some passages from the journal I've been keeping. (=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Sometimes it felt as if life was so unfair. And it felt like it was so unfair to me, and instead of fighting for everyone elses rights and wants, I realized I should have been fighting for myself this whole time. I shouldn't have pushed what I wanted, I should have pushed what was good for me. What I really needed was to take care of myself. I spent so much energy worrying and stressing and I didn't even realize how bad it was for me. I mean, I spent all this time believing that I didn't deserve half of the things I got, well then, why was I making it so much more difficult for me? If someone was hurting me and making my life difficult, well, why were they even in my life at all? If I didn't deserve something, I sure as hell wasn't going to take it from anyone. I can't change the fact that life is unfair. that's how it's always going to be. But I could change how I felt about life's unfairness."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5776872573338973960?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5776872573338973960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5776872573338973960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5776872573338973960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5776872573338973960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/02/passage.html' title='A Passage..'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7923266572797958831</id><published>2010-02-18T18:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T18:58:58.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorriez!</title><content type='html'>Sorry for not posting for soooo long )= Alotta stuffs been going on, but not all hope is lost! I have a journal and will be posting passages soon (= &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ttyl for whoever is actually reading x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lahve lahve lahve lahve yew* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7923266572797958831?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7923266572797958831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7923266572797958831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7923266572797958831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7923266572797958831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/02/sorriez.html' title='Sorriez!'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1610478485322379071</id><published>2010-02-01T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T15:50:16.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was wrong. Not everyone was meant to be happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1610478485322379071?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1610478485322379071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1610478485322379071' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1610478485322379071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1610478485322379071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-was-wrong.html' title=''/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6066046631845708544</id><published>2010-01-31T15:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T17:15:46.732-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beginning.</title><content type='html'>It is in fact, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;the beginning.&lt;/span&gt; I have one year, to start placing at swim meets, and to go to States. If I don't, my parents are going to pull me out of swimming for good. Dude...this is so intense right here. I've been swimming for 3 years now, and it has become like the biggest part of my life. Swimming is the one thing I absolutely &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;can't&lt;/span&gt; lose in my life. &lt;div&gt;I have always been the average swimmer. But I think now that there's this huge pressure on me, that I've finally reached my breaking point. I mean, I'm sick of getting lapped at practices, of going to meets and watching other people get their times, I'm sick of not placing and not qualifying for meets. I think I've finally realized that I mean, I've been trying hard, I really have, but I haven't been trying my ABSOLUTE hardest. I mean if I have been trying my ABSOLUTE hardest, who knows, I could be a qualifying swimmer. This is going to be hard. I'm not going to lie, there a huge chance this isn't going to happen. But I have to try my absolute hardest, because losing swimming would be like losing a part of myself. It's time to get down to business.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; People believe in me, sure. My parents, don't. I'm sick of what they put my self esteem through, and the discouragement I receive from them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my lovely internet people, be prepared. Join me for the ride, as I begin to step it up and make a name for myself in the swimming world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6066046631845708544?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6066046631845708544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6066046631845708544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6066046631845708544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6066046631845708544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/01/beginning.html' title='The Beginning.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6081891578428844065</id><published>2010-01-10T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T21:46:08.172-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Thoughts On My Pondering :)</title><content type='html'>Just for kicks, I wanted to answer the questions :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What happened in your weirdest dream ever?&lt;br /&gt;--I was upset and ran away to a cheesecake factory with circus carnies XD It was weird, because I don't like cheesecake XD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If you were to die tomorrow, and you had to go on a date with the person of your dreams, who would it be and what would you do?&lt;br /&gt;--Ohhh, if he's reading this, he knows who he is :) &amp; I was thinking some cool mega date, with a movie, skydiving, snorkeling, ice skating, going to a carnival, and drinking lotsa coffeeee!! :D Orrrr, just chillin' somewhere is cool with me too :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. You've just won a shopping spree at Longs. You have 5 minutes to grab whatever you want. Where do you go first, and what it is the first thing you buy?&lt;br /&gt;--Dude, are you kidding me? Of COURSE I'd run straight to the chips section and get a bag of hot cheetos :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What is the most embarrassing ringtone to have when your phone rings in the middle of class?&lt;br /&gt;--Haha, I remember one time my phone's ringtone was like this really asian-ey chinese song XD I'm full Chinese and the class was realllllyyyyy quiet XD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What is a line from a song that describes your life?&lt;br /&gt;-- "Don't be afraid of falling down, Just get back up when you hit the ground" Worth The Wait By: Lights Out Dancing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What is something embarrassing you sleep with at night?&lt;br /&gt;--A blanket I've had since I was like born. And a TEDDY BEAR :) But shhhhh O:-) I'm trusting you!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What is a bad habit you have?&lt;br /&gt;--Tacking random shit to my wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What do you think is amazing?&lt;br /&gt;--Elmer's glue!! It's BLUE and it dries INVISIBLE! Amazing, much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. What do you like to do when you're bored?&lt;br /&gt;--Hahahahaha XD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Are you a pottttyyy mouth? O:-)&lt;br /&gt;--Fuck yea bixchz XD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What is your favorite gum?&lt;br /&gt;--5!!! I actually thought this WHOLE time that 5 gum was STRIDE gum. And I thought the 5 was supposed to be like a really cool S, you know? XD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. What is the first thing you do when it starts to rain?&lt;br /&gt;--Close the windows so the rain doesn't come in. Then I run outside and play in the rain until I get a fever the next day :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Do you believe that everyone deserves a happy ending?&lt;br /&gt;--Absolutely! I believe that everyone deserves a happy ending and that they're all beautiful people in their own way :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Pizza Hut, Dominos, or Bostons Pizza?&lt;br /&gt;--BOSTONS! My favorite pizza toppings are spinach&amp;garlic :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Hamburgers or Fried Chicken?&lt;br /&gt;--FRIED CHICKEN. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Do you walk thru the mud, or around the mud?&lt;br /&gt;--Right on thru :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. What is your favorite thing about America?&lt;br /&gt;--Fried Chicken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. What is your favorite thing about Asia?&lt;br /&gt;--Hawt FOBbies! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Pirates or Ninjas?&lt;br /&gt;--I'm waiting for a hybrid of both to answer this question ;D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Whoever is reading this is attractive and just made my day :)&lt;br /&gt;--STILL TRUE! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6081891578428844065?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6081891578428844065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6081891578428844065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6081891578428844065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6081891578428844065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-thoughts-on-my-pondering.html' title='My Thoughts On My Pondering :)'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7363795149857143432</id><published>2010-01-10T16:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T17:27:56.727-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Soooo Dead XD</title><content type='html'>Okay.&lt;br /&gt;I am dead.&lt;br /&gt;So so dead.&lt;br /&gt;Finals are in two days and I am SCREWWWWED.&lt;br /&gt;I know they make the questions extra extremely hard to test to see if you really understand the material, and that's the thing. I understand the material, until they ask those god damn questions &gt;.&lt; And seriously, I can not be in the same room for like 2 hours working on a test. I can barely do anything for 2 hours in the first place. I can't even like watch a movie for 2 hours unless I like get up to use the bathroom or like eat something. Do you ever like, read a question, and then you think about the question, and then you totally don't even remember what the question was? That's me. That's allllll me right there. I even went to talk to a teacher for extra help, and after she explained to me for 5 minutes and I left, I didn't remember a thing she said. The only thing I remembered was that she was wearing a blue shirt...and that was pretty much it XD I mean, I study and all. I'm totally pro-studying, but like, it feels so unhelpful on the test, like I don't even see anything I studied ON THE TEST! So instead, right now I am currently looking at piano music, listening to music, watching reruns of tv shows noone watches anymore, painting my nails, eating food, talking on aim, spamming people with the link to my blog O:-) hehehe and yea. Alll at the same time. You know what makes me sad? They stopped showing full house :( I used to watch that show like EVERYYYYYYYYday. I LOVED that show XD I have no idea why, but I've seen like every episode XD I've also seen every episode of, Gilmore Girls, Southpark, Heroes, Gossip Girl, and Degrassi XD Lmfao.&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAYS,&lt;br /&gt;Leave a comment! ^_^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7363795149857143432?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7363795149857143432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7363795149857143432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7363795149857143432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7363795149857143432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/01/soooo-dead-xd.html' title='Soooo Dead XD'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5642929034086757610</id><published>2010-01-10T00:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T21:27:14.055-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ponnnndering O:-)</title><content type='html'>So lately there's been a lot on my mind, and I figured that people who have a lot on their mind should have other things they could think about to take their mind off of other things :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooo, just a few things to ponder about (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What happened in your weirdest dream ever?&lt;br /&gt;2. If you were to die tomorrow, and you had to go on a date with the person of your dreams, who would it be and what would you do?&lt;br /&gt;3. You've just won a shopping spree at Longs. You have 5 minutes to grab whatever you want. Where do you go first, and what it is the first thing you buy?&lt;br /&gt;4. What is the most embarrassing ringtone to have when your phone rings in the middle of class?&lt;br /&gt;5. What is a line from a song that describes your life?&lt;br /&gt;6. What is something embarrassing you sleep with at night?&lt;br /&gt;7. What is a bad habit you have?&lt;br /&gt;8. What do you think is amazing?&lt;br /&gt;9. What do you like to do when you're bored?&lt;br /&gt;10. Are you a pottttyyy mouth? O:-)&lt;br /&gt;11. What is your favorite gum?&lt;br /&gt;12. What is the first thing you do when it starts to rain?&lt;br /&gt;13. Do you believe that everyone deserves a happy ending?&lt;br /&gt;14. Pizza Hut, Dominos, or Bostons Pizza?&lt;br /&gt;15. Hamburgers or Fried Chicken?&lt;br /&gt;16. Do you walk thru the mud, or around the mud?&lt;br /&gt;17. What is your favorite thing about America?&lt;br /&gt;18. What is your favorite thing about Asia?&lt;br /&gt;19. Pirates or Ninjas?&lt;br /&gt;20. Whoever is reading this is attractive and just made my day :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to leave a comment on your thoughts or answers to these questions!&lt;br /&gt;It's much appreciated! &lt;br /&gt;LotsaLove! &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5642929034086757610?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5642929034086757610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5642929034086757610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5642929034086757610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5642929034086757610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/01/ponnnndering-o.html' title='Ponnnndering O:-)'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-488559940838498874</id><published>2010-01-05T21:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T21:18:25.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Last Final Words...</title><content type='html'>Oh yes, it's that time of the year again.&lt;br /&gt;Dun dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnn&lt;br /&gt;FINALS!&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing more fun than trying to cram a semester length of work into your brain in about a week. The worst part is, is that they still give you homework the week before finals. And of course, every teacher gives you homework as if you only have homework that class. I'm so bad at planning D: I have to finish this 401 paged book by TOMORROW, and I read up to page 62. I also have to do a project, an ART project that is due in 2 days. It's an ART project. There's a reason why I'm not in ART. I think I'm actually going to avoid it all 4 years of high school. It's not that I don't enjoy drawing (hahaha I don't XD) It's just that we have to recreate a drawing from the renaissance period, and like that's the period where everyone is drawing odd looking people and Jesus. Everyyyy picture is about Jesus. Okay, no hard feelings man, but I just don't want to draw you. I draw as if I'm blindfolded and tied to a chair, and like, I don't want Jesus to look bad. I LIKE JESUS. Ugh, and on top of it all, SPORTS. It takes up like 2 hours straight after you end school, and you go home all tired and groggy and talking all incoherent like. And when you try to start homework, all you can think about is sleeping. Hahaha oh yes, but instead of sleeping I'm blogging to give myself a reason not to do homework. Hahaha I wish I had people to blog for XD&lt;br /&gt;You guys are lucky~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-488559940838498874?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/488559940838498874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=488559940838498874' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/488559940838498874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/488559940838498874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/01/your-last-final-words.html' title='Your Last Final Words...'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-854801074261134308</id><published>2010-01-03T23:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T23:01:32.644-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Day Is Today :-0</title><content type='html'>So, I was thinking. And I was thinking about what it would be like if everyone made up their own holiday. Just think about it. Wouldn’t you love someone asking you what day it was, and you got to say something like, “Oh, it’s Waffle Appreciation Day.” or “Don’t you know that today is, Uno Day?!” And after writing that, it got me thinking about 3 things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Waffles are so much better than pancakes. Pancakes are like pillows. They’re nice and comfy, but you wouldn’t want to eat them.&lt;br /&gt;2. I have never played Uno before. Like…in my life. Like…this life.&lt;br /&gt;3. This is America, the land of opportunity. Why wouldn’t this be able to happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, it hit me. If this happened, I would be put at the top of every calendar maker’s hit list. Now wouldn’t it just be plain sad, if my friends had to break the news to my parents saying that I got murdered by calendar makers? XD Ahhh hide me! :O&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-854801074261134308?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/854801074261134308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=854801074261134308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/854801074261134308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/854801074261134308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-day-is-today-0.html' title='What Day Is Today :-0'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-969974944524855014</id><published>2009-12-31T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T11:57:48.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Years Eve!!</title><content type='html'>It's December 31st! Its time for obnoxiously loud fireworks, and being stuck in smoke you can barely breath in! I love New Years Eve, I really do. I love setting off fireworks, even though I'm a total wimp. I'm a 24/7 klutzz, so on New Years Eve, I am a total safety hazard. I remember last year, we had this little box we were going to light. I went over to light it, and then I ran away as quickly as I could, and I remember accidentally knocking it over, and it was pointing STRAIGHT at us. That was a total ohhhhh sh*t  moment XD I hope everyone has a good new years eve, and an even better 2010! Remember to set goals for yourself, because it's worth looking back on New Years Eve of 2010 being proud of all the accomplishments you had in 2010. So, it's the time of the year to be greatly inspired and ambitious. Let's start 2010 with a bang everyone (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Loveeee,&lt;br /&gt;        Yours Truly ^_^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-969974944524855014?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/969974944524855014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=969974944524855014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/969974944524855014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/969974944524855014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-years-eve.html' title='Happy New Years Eve!!'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-2737417445195364897</id><published>2009-12-28T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T18:37:21.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Evolved Into A Beast XD</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's that time of the month againnnnnn...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say that I'm the kind of person who doesn't get any side effects or anything, because I mean I'm the poster child for what people would be like without midol (Don't know what it is? Google it :) &gt;.&lt; Seriously, I could just blow up about anything. I could be eating cereal or something and maybe I'll be slightly  irritated, and if you thought it'd be a good idea to talk to me while I was eating cereal, I would say, that honey you thought wrong. Cereal can be quite deadly* Honestly I don't know how people put up with me during that time of the month. Maybe they just track it and hide from me when it comes. You know how in Michael Jackson's Thriller video he has him like evolving into a werewolf @.@ That's kind of how I get. Haha I won't even deny it. &lt;----- That right there is me too. Except I'm like a werewolf that has discovered Nair. Which reminds me, has anyone else ever used Nair and found that the beginning tingling sensation you thought it was turned into a burning sensation that was less of a sensation but just more of a burning? Just curious* Anyways, readers, be glad. Be real glad. Be grateful. Be real grateful. There is the entire internet between us, for the others, they aren't so lucky ;D XD &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-2737417445195364897?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/2737417445195364897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=2737417445195364897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2737417445195364897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2737417445195364897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-evolved-into-beast-xd.html' title='I Evolved Into A Beast XD'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-2329411505730958072</id><published>2009-12-19T22:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T22:54:56.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Just Not Karma.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; "&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes things seem so unfair. Sometimes we don't deserve what we're getting. Sometimes it's not our fault. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sometimes...it's just not karma. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I feel so alone sometimes because I have so much I want to say, but I feel like no one would believe me, or no one would understand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I feel like sometimes, no one is even trying to hear me...even though I'm not saying anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I feel scared, that people won't understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I feel frustrated that people can't understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I feel fed up because I've had to deal with so many things for such a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I hate myself for feeling this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I hate that I hate myself when I believe that it's not my fault. That it's not just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I feel like I'm a horrible person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I hate that I think I'm a horrible person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I feel like I don't deserve any of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Why won't anyone even try to listen to me when I'm crying and screaming and saying that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I'm not the criminal, I'm the victim."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-2329411505730958072?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/2329411505730958072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=2329411505730958072' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2329411505730958072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2329411505730958072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-just-not-karma.html' title='It&apos;s Just Not Karma.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5449142246303377934</id><published>2009-12-14T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T19:08:10.538-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Could I Possibly Mean To You?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes you can try so hard to be good enough for someone, but it doesn't matter at all. Sometimes it feels like I'm nothing, and it feels like I'm nothing to everyone. I could try so hard to please my parents, to be a fraction of what they expect me to be, and yet, no matter how hard I try. And I know that that's the point, to fail, but there's a fine line between teaching your kid a lesson, and just plain cruelty. Sometimes I'll end up just crying in a locked bathroom and it's like noone cares enough to ask me what's wrong, but rather what the hell is wrong with me because it is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; my fault, and it's nothing to cry over, since it's &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all &lt;/span&gt;my fault. And I'm sick of trying to talk to people about how I feel and their response being how much that sucks. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;Do you think I don't know that? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;So thank you for that little refresher, but I couldn't care less. I'm sick of it and I'm through. I'm sick of trying to make people who don't care about me happy. My mom just walked into my room and totally yanked the door open knocking down everything on my shelf and walked through it all and yanked the other door open and slammed it against my closet. Now there's real decency for you. I wish I had someone to tell me that it's not my fault. I don't need anyone to be sensible or tell me that it sucks. I need someone to tell me that it is not my fault. BECAUSE IT'S NOT. And 99frikin% of the time IT'S NOT. But hey, what could I possibly mean to anyone? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;I'm just a lowly ungrateful bitch of a child. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I'm not worth shit to anyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5449142246303377934?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5449142246303377934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5449142246303377934' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5449142246303377934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5449142246303377934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/12/sometimes-you-can-try-so-hard-to-be.html' title='What Could I Possibly Mean To You?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8157848711339391964</id><published>2009-12-13T17:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T19:00:44.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Don't Know.</title><content type='html'>I know life has it's ups and downs, but knowing that fact does not make the downs any more enjoyable then they already are. But you know what bugs me? I mean, if you've been trying to keep up with me, then you probably know tons by now, but you what &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; bugs me? I mean, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really. &lt;/span&gt;It absolutely &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;kills&lt;/span&gt; me when people think that they know what it's like to be me. I hate it when people think they know what I'm feeling, but they don't. That is my entire point. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;You &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;don't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;know, because you're &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt; me. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It kills me so incredibly much that I'm on the verge of just breaking down already. Don't you just hate it when people think they know what you're feeling, and what's really going on with you, but they don't. And they don't even know the first thing about it? I mean honestly, what do you &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt; you know? And what &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;do &lt;/span&gt;you know? I mean I can't always tell someone what I'm feeling or what's going on because, what if I promised someone I wouldn't? Honestly, I want to tell someone, I want to tell them so bad, to share my pain, for someone to just look me in the eyes and honestly say that things will get better, and it is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; my fault, but I can't. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;can't&lt;/span&gt;, because I'm so deathly afraid that they won't understand. And they can't, because they're not me, and they don't know what it feels like to feel some of the things I feel, and to go through some of the things I've been through, but why would I ever, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; let someone I care about feel something like that, when I know how cruel of a feeling it is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm scared, and I'm angry, and I'm confused, and I'm sad, and I'm lost. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Don't ask me what's wrong, and if I'm okay, and even try to pretend for a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;second&lt;/span&gt; that you really care.  I feel so alone because there's a crowd of people to talk to, but I feel like the only person who would ever understand is myself. So trust me, please just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;trust&lt;/span&gt; me when I say that you &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; understand because you are &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/3992462830308581942-8157848711339391964?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8157848711339391964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8157848711339391964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8157848711339391964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8157848711339391964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-dont-know.html' title='You Don&apos;t Know.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-410548874218345644</id><published>2009-11-26T10:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T10:33:06.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Trust You With My Heart.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Truth be told,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;I'm scared. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;I'm scared of who I used to be,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Of if that person could still be me,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Of if I'm strong enough to say,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;I'm a different person today.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Sometimes fear is a good thing,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;It keeps you on the edge,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;But when stuck in fear and drowned in doubt,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Trusting someone is your only way out.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;I'm not that very trusting,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;I'm not going to lie to myself,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;But honestly,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;I trust you,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;And to me that means alot.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;I know you'd never catch me,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Because I know you'd never let me fall,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;There's nothing left to be scared of,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;No reason to be scared at all.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-410548874218345644?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/410548874218345644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=410548874218345644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/410548874218345644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/410548874218345644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-trust-you-with-my-heart.html' title='I Trust You With My Heart.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1905774975436460449</id><published>2009-11-08T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T18:06:19.111-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Self Something.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You know how sometimes you just totally zone out, and you're lying down on your bed staring at the ceiling. It's like nothing is going on in your head, except for like... &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;everything.&lt;/span&gt; And I don't know, it might've been the color of the ceiling, or like the song that was playing, or the smell of the room, I DON'T KNOW, but something, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; made me realize that I have &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;A LOT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; of things wrong with me. I'm talking like, TONS of faults. My list of faults is longer than Santa's list of naughty children. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;It is that bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;First of all, I'm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;incredibly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; loud and obnoxious. Like, if I had to replay the way I talked, I would pretty much get duct tape and just GO FOR ME. Ugh, and I'm kind of dramatic. Well not like really super bad dramatic, it's just, I over think things, basically. Like, I over analyze EVERY SINGLE DETAIL about ANYTHING&amp;amp;EVERYTHING. So if you do something, and I'll be like, ooooo, what does that mean? And maybe all of that thinking will lead me to think someones mad at me or something. I mean, I have really good intuition, so most of the time, I'm actually &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;, but like 80% of the time, I'm just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;FREAKING PARANOID.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Okay, WHAT &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME? I'm really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;annoying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; too. Maybe it's because I'm so happy and excited and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;spastic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; ALL the time, that it makes me do stuff like talk really loud, or talk for a really long time, or repeat a word over and over again. Ugh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;*Brings out duct tape* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&amp;amp; like, I'm actually a REALLY CLINGY PERSON. Like, I'll always want to be by someone, and talk to them, and I don't even like KNOW man. I need to give people more space, and let them come to me on their own, or let them tell me when they &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; want me to come. It's just, there's so much &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;more, and it's all running through my head, and like, noticing everything that's wrong with you, it kind of makes you want to shut up, and just like, leave everyone alone. Its like I have to watch everything I do, and listen to everything I say, and just, be careful. I'm surprised how &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;anyone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; could like me. I think, for now, I just have to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:24px;"&gt;back off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;off everyone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;and just...I don't know, it's like the people who can handle you at your worst, deserve to be with you at your best. Oh god, I don't even know anymore. I don't even know why I'm thinking about this. Maybe I just need some reassurance. Is this really what I'm like? Who I am? It's like I want to know what I'm really like, what people really think, but at the same time, it'd break my heart to hear it, maybe because I already know what's it's going to be like. I just hope I can fix my faults, and soon.  Self realization is a bitch, ain't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1905774975436460449?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1905774975436460449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1905774975436460449' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1905774975436460449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1905774975436460449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/11/self-something.html' title='Self Something.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-2277550778146234935</id><published>2009-10-31T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T01:59:51.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Have To Say.</title><content type='html'>My thoughts on life:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;By letting yourself be depressed about something, you're not giving good things a chance to happen.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everything could be painless if you just have a different mindset.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Friends will tell you what you want to hear and get you through a tough time. Best friends will tell you the truth and get you through life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you give up, you're giving up on the possibly for something beautiful to happen. That possibility could be something that you'll spend a lifetime searching for.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't think that good things aren't happening, think that they &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; happen.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There are so many people that would kill to be happy, but the thing is, most of those people could be, if they would let themselves.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If things aren't going your way, maybe it's because you're not being hopeful in the first place.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not having faith in yourself or anyone else will hold you back from being happy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Life isn't about learning how to hold on, it's about learning how to move on and take lessons from everything that happens to you; it's about learning how to get back up on your feet and being proud of yourself for doing that.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Life is about being grateful for the experience and never the result.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You have to love who you are before you are ready to love anyone else.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't doubt yourself. Doubt will hold you back from everything you are.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You have to be happy, and give everyone a reason to be happy too. The people who decide to be a part of that happiness and share theirs too, are the people who you will love you the most.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Your past isn't anything to be ashamed of. Never let it haunt you. Take memories from your past and turn them into lessons, and confidence, and let it build personality and character.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You can only appreciate what you have if you appreciate what others have. It works both ways.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't be jealous of others. You have to be grateful that they're in your lives, and they're such great role models and people you can look up to.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Always add a space onto your heart for others. Never let them take a part of you away. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes, the only reason you don't think you're an amazing person, is because &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;you don't think you're an amazing person, &lt;/span&gt;not because you really aren't.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stop finding things to be sorry about. Stop finding things you need forgiveness for. People forgive, but you have to forgive yourself. Then you can truly move on.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;To stop doubting yourself sounds like the hardest task in the whole world, but really it's not. It's hard because you've given up before truly trying.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Good things happen to happy people and happy people make good things happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Like I said, I don't know that much other than the fact that the grass is green and the sky is blue. But maybe, that's all I need to know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-2277550778146234935?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/2277550778146234935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=2277550778146234935' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2277550778146234935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2277550778146234935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-i-have-to-say.html' title='What I Have To Say.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7792211670860540132</id><published>2009-10-17T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T12:01:05.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Grass Is Green, Dearie.</title><content type='html'>Ok, so, I know music and stuff is always telling you how depressing life is, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BUT&lt;/span&gt; good things will happen! The trick is, to not worry about how things are going to turn out. Let things just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;happen.&lt;/span&gt; And trust me, they happen.  I'm just so over being sad about everything, about everyone being upset, about the drama, about things that don't even matter. We might not all have everything we would want in life, but you have to make the most of what you do have, and maybe then will you get more of what you do want. You always have to stay positive in life, no matter what. I know, I know, what kind of advice could &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:x-large;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:x-large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;give. Like I'm just a stupid naive little teenager. But, you'd be surprised. I mean the only things I really know, is that the sky will always be a shade of blue, and the grass will always be a shade of green. But hey, maybe that's all I need to know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7792211670860540132?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7792211670860540132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7792211670860540132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7792211670860540132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7792211670860540132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/10/grass-is-green-dearie.html' title='The Grass Is Green, Dearie.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4982721184241003069</id><published>2009-10-04T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T15:40:55.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Ocean Of Skies.</title><content type='html'>I'm staring at blank ceilings,&lt;br /&gt;But this paint is so concealing,&lt;br /&gt;I'm searching for some meaning,&lt;br /&gt;What's behind this stone brick wall?&lt;br /&gt;A heart kept in a cage,&lt;br /&gt;Locked up and locked away,&lt;br /&gt;With chains so blindly linked together,&lt;br /&gt;We hoped it wouldn't be this way,&lt;br /&gt;So I lie here alone and waiting,&lt;br /&gt;A darkened sky above me,&lt;br /&gt;With stars that shone as bright as sand,&lt;br /&gt;My hope was slowly fading,&lt;br /&gt;But something changed these skies of gray,&lt;br /&gt;And chased the blackened skies away,&lt;br /&gt;You will no more feel the pain,&lt;br /&gt;Of night displaying your miserable feelings,&lt;br /&gt;Something started happening,&lt;br /&gt;I knew it,&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't know what,&lt;br /&gt;The skies had somehow lightened,&lt;br /&gt;And it brightened my whole world,&lt;br /&gt;It was a reflection of the ocean,&lt;br /&gt;With all its waves of blue,&lt;br /&gt;Crashing on the horizon's surface,&lt;br /&gt;Clouds like sea foam rose for you,&lt;br /&gt;Something broke the water's surface,&lt;br /&gt;Something bright and clear,&lt;br /&gt;The sun was drifting on the sea,&lt;br /&gt;I had fallen for you in too deep,&lt;br /&gt;Your beaming rays matched my beaming smiles,&lt;br /&gt;I wish you'd stay longer,&lt;br /&gt;Just stay for a while,&lt;br /&gt;But the sun must set,&lt;br /&gt;So the colors can change,&lt;br /&gt;With pink and blue and purple waves,&lt;br /&gt;Waves that gently pulled and swayed,&lt;br /&gt;Pulling me in to your gravity,&lt;br /&gt;I look at the sky and the sun begins to rise, &lt;br /&gt;I'm not scared of the night,&lt;br /&gt;And it's unforgiving ways,&lt;br /&gt;I know the future holds better days. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4982721184241003069?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4982721184241003069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4982721184241003069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4982721184241003069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4982721184241003069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/10/ocean-of-skies.html' title='An Ocean Of Skies.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6216142963604078172</id><published>2009-09-30T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T23:21:18.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Burning Skies.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 26.0px Lucida Grande; background-color: #eceef9"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;table width="677.0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" style="width: 677.0px"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top" style="width: 464.0px; padding: 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px"&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every day was a challenge,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And things just weren't the same,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You could try to avoid your reality,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But then you'd be dreaming of better days,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And as ambitious as I was,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was barely hanging by a thread,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enough to climb up to the top,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And not enough to see overhead,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was lost before you came,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wasn't looking to be found,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I didn't have to whisper your name,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You heard me calling out somehow,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You were like a candle,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Whose flame burnt deeply in my eyes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And if I tried to close my eyes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'd have visions of burning skies,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Skies that burned a fiery red,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That faded into shades of pink,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And shades of pink that warmed the sky,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Until it cried a purple ink,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A purple ink that stained the sky,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And had to be washed away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The ocean sprayed the sky with mist,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The purple just blended with blues that stayed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You're everywhere I know you'd be,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Because you are a part of me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm free of who I used to be,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Burning skies are waiting for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt; &lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6216142963604078172?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6216142963604078172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6216142963604078172' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6216142963604078172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6216142963604078172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/09/burning-skies.html' title='Burning Skies.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3886150517652301065</id><published>2009-09-26T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T19:54:10.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Times, Good Times.</title><content type='html'>Hello world,&lt;div&gt;Today I am feeling....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:x-large;"&gt;Absolutely terrified.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I am terrified of....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;the first dive off the starting block...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first stroke you take...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;the first breath you breath....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first flip turn you make at the wall....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;the first time you touch the wall for a finish...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first thought you think when you finish a race....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;the first time you glance at the time board....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first medal you don't get...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;the first time you cry....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first memory you make...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;the first time you're surprised....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; "&gt;...the first time you realize that you kinda sucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:24px;"&gt;Some of those are really depressing huh &gt;.&lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:24px;"&gt;How about things that are more fun?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:24px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't wait for....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first stupid picture you take...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you scream someones name....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you lose a slipper....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you buy an oober cool swim suit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you take off your shirt then realize you're swim suit isn't under it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you slip on a puddle of water....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you get pushed into a pool...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you walk into a store with nothing but swim suits on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you're half changed then realize that you left half your clothes outside...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you dance to crazii music....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you wish someone good luck, and they whoop your ass XD...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you walk into the gas station with a swim suit on and people ask you how the beach was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you play on the playground and make it all wet...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you skip down the sidewalk in your swim suit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you call out another team and own them in a spirit cheer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the first time you do biology homework while waiting for an event but can't get it so you ask all the surrounding adults for help...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;...the first time you eat real food in hours....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp; my favorite...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;The first time you decide to skip and dance in the field while the football team is practicing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;I hope everyones day is full of wonderful firsts &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-3886150517652301065?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3886150517652301065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3886150517652301065' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3886150517652301065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3886150517652301065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/09/hello-world-today-i-am-feeling.html' title='Good Times, Good Times.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4190055136332767408</id><published>2009-09-14T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T22:23:52.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Best Friend, How Long Has It Been?</title><content type='html'>So we had this English assignment to write a letter to someone, and I decided to write to my best friend who I haven't seen in years. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"&gt;Dear S,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;It's been a while, huh? So I'm sitting in my English class right now, and our assignment is to write a letter to someone. And then all of a sudden, a flashback begins. And you know how in the movies, the room starts to blur and the background's fading? Well that's EXACTLY what happened. Before you know it, I'm stuck in a 3&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt; grade memory. You were 8, and I was 7. I remember how people from the Honolulu Star-Bulletin newspaper came in and took a picture of you reading a letter you wrote to the U.S. soldiers in Iraq. You wrote, "I hope you can beat up a lot of bad guys. I believe in you guys. You can do it. You guys rock." I remembered that because I cut that article out from the newspaper and taped it to my wall. I did it because you were my best friend.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I wanted to let you know, that I've been doing good, and I've missed you so much S. I haven't talked to you since that one time you emailed me after you left for Okinawa in the 6&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; grade. I know absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what happens if you never come back? Do you remember how Mr. O brought in popsicles right before you left? I do. We both had orange ones. It was so sad when you left because we were all best friends. . We were pretty much best friends with the whole grade. Didn't you love our school? I just wanted to write this one last letter, so you knew how I felt, because I don't think it ever really sank in. I thought you were the coolest, laid-back, funniest dude I have ever met. You and your crazy hairstyles, and me with my crazy everything. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I hope you read my letter, because I don't want to have the last word. I hope Okinawa is as cool as you make it seem. Just know that back in Hawaii, your friends will always be there saying, "I believe in you. You can do it. You rock."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;With lots of love,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4190055136332767408?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4190055136332767408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4190055136332767408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4190055136332767408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4190055136332767408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-best-friend-how-long-has-it-been.html' title='Dear Best Friend, How Long Has It Been?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8466339126728882230</id><published>2009-09-13T18:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T18:37:20.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Today&amp;Now.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;Oh the places we'll go,&lt;br /&gt;Oh the places we'll go,&lt;br /&gt;Such wondrous places to see,&lt;br /&gt;Take a look all around,&lt;br /&gt;Breath it in,&lt;br /&gt;Breath it out,&lt;br /&gt;The essence of the world at your feet,&lt;br /&gt;Such hidden beauty &amp;amp; amazing sites,&lt;br /&gt;Won't lie in the places you'll go,&lt;br /&gt;But really all of this hidden wonder,&lt;br /&gt;Lies in the places you've been before.&lt;br /&gt;So where are we going?&lt;br /&gt;To the future or past?&lt;br /&gt;Do we want to make memories,&lt;br /&gt;or make them last?&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm excited to see,&lt;br /&gt;Oh please take my hand,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; live in the futures past with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-8466339126728882230?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8466339126728882230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8466339126728882230' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8466339126728882230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8466339126728882230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/09/today.html' title='The Today&amp;Now.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8835183056703995609</id><published>2009-08-14T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T00:40:42.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't force a smile upon your face,&lt;br /&gt;I can only let you borrow mine,&lt;br /&gt;And I can't cause good things to happen,&lt;br /&gt;But I'll be damned if I didn't try,&lt;br /&gt;In the dark without a sight,&lt;br /&gt;Let me be your shining light,&lt;br /&gt;So stop it,&lt;br /&gt;I don't dare to hear these words you dare to speak,&lt;br /&gt;1 is lonely,&lt;br /&gt;2 is company,&lt;br /&gt;3 is a crowd,&lt;br /&gt;Put all your trust into me,&lt;br /&gt;and I will never let you down,&lt;br /&gt;I am here for you,&lt;br /&gt;And I say it enough,&lt;br /&gt;you let your guard down,&lt;br /&gt;But your edges are still rough,&lt;br /&gt;Strip down to your soul,&lt;br /&gt;And I'll strip down to mine,&lt;br /&gt;If you fall across the universe,&lt;br /&gt;I'll be there for you on the otherside,&lt;br /&gt;Let me brighten your soul,&lt;br /&gt;Let me brighten your life,&lt;br /&gt;Don't let me be a candle,&lt;br /&gt;In the day time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-8835183056703995609?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8835183056703995609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8835183056703995609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8835183056703995609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8835183056703995609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-cant-force-smile-upon-your-face-i-can.html' title=''/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5872526796793149596</id><published>2009-08-14T01:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T01:41:01.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Own Sea.</title><content type='html'>You're drowning in your own depression,&lt;br /&gt;My oh my, you're sinking deep,&lt;br /&gt;Please make an effort to kick harder,&lt;br /&gt;There's no ray of light from underneath,&lt;br /&gt;I'd risk every second saving you,&lt;br /&gt;For you're worth every second of my life,&lt;br /&gt;I know you want authentic smiles,&lt;br /&gt;But don't be your own sacrifice,&lt;br /&gt;You're not yourself, but it's quite alright,&lt;br /&gt;It's just the water flooding your mind,&lt;br /&gt;But don't give up kicking,&lt;br /&gt;Try harder, for me,&lt;br /&gt;If you were to drown,&lt;br /&gt;Then I would start sinking,&lt;br /&gt;But I can't keep saving you,&lt;br /&gt;If you only want to drown,&lt;br /&gt;I know you can't help it,&lt;br /&gt;But you won't help yourself,&lt;br /&gt;So I beg you once more,&lt;br /&gt;With my hand held out,&lt;br /&gt;Please take it and trust me,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not like everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;Believe me, please,&lt;br /&gt;For yourself and for me,&lt;br /&gt;If you let yourself drown,&lt;br /&gt;Then I'd be your company.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5872526796793149596?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5872526796793149596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5872526796793149596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5872526796793149596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5872526796793149596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/08/your-own-sea.html' title='Your Own Sea.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5188576279959595388</id><published>2009-08-08T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T12:21:21.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If There Is A God...</title><content type='html'>First of all, my family's not very religious, and I haven't gone to church since I was like, ohhh I don't know, maybe like 7 or 8? So I don't know a lot about God, I don't really know much about the bible either. I can't help it if I'm stuck with weird questions while I stare at the ceiling in my room. If I googled it, I probably wouldn't get the answer either, because well, I'm clueless. So my question to you is that, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;if there really is a God, how can he let such horrible things happen to people who don't deserve it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;There are a lot of people who don't deserve to die, and my question is that, how can he let them? How can he let diseases like CANCER live? Is he trying to teach people a lesson? Because at what cost do we have to learn these lessons? I know God exists, and he's not just some myth to believe in, but I need to understand how he can let things happen to people who don't deserve it, when there are people (I'm not saying that they deserve it) but in a way they do. It sucks. Big time. And, where do people go when they die? If God forgives everyone for their sins, then wouldn't we all just be crowding eachother in Heaven? I don't knowwwwwwwwww. I'm soooooooooooooo confuseddddd. I guess sometimes I see someone in my family suffer, and I just can't help but to think, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;damn, it should've been me.&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/3992462830308581942-5188576279959595388?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5188576279959595388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5188576279959595388' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5188576279959595388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5188576279959595388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/08/if-there-is-god.html' title='If There Is A God...'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4712103101144172575</id><published>2009-07-28T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T11:52:39.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh.</title><content type='html'>Ok, is it just me, or does it seem like no matter how hard we try, we always fail our parents. SERIOUSLY. It's not like we do alllllllll this other extra curricular stuff for ourselves. Any one of us could go ahead and play a few sports, learn a few instruments, and try extremely hard at school, but only a few parents would ever care that we do these things &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;for them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Don't get me wrong, we do these things for ourselves too, you know, help us in life, blah blah blah, but they don't understand that we do these things to make you guys, the 'rents, proud of us. Ok, that was my bad, I made playing sports and learning how to play music, and trying &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; hard at school sound like a piece of cake. But ohhhhhh boy, do you guys have a lot to learn. It's a lot harder then it seems, I mean it seems hard in the first place right? EXACTLY. First of all we have to balance out these things and use our 'rents precciousssss money to pay for the lessons. BUT HEY, learning is HARD. I wish my 'rents would give me a little credit, and if not, a little respect here and there? The &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;kid&lt;/span&gt;, (you know who I mean) gets whatever she wants. I mean it's not like my 'rents like her, well who knows they could, but it's probably because it'd make us look bad if we denied her something she wanted. So does that mean we just GIVE it to her? How would she like it if I got EVERY THING HANDED TO ME on an effing' diamond plate. Yea. That's right. And have you CONTRIBUTED shit to this family? Have you done anything that SHOWS you deserve shit at all? No, all you do is watch tv and rub it in my face that you can do whatever you want. Well, I work hard every effing' day, and this is what I GET? You know what, everyone can just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;suck it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; already. I am sick of feeling like I don't deserve anything, and that people can just push me around, and that I'm not worth respect or anything like that. I'm sick of taking people's shit. Someone wise once told me to say this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Fuck it.&lt;/span&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/3992462830308581942-4712103101144172575?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4712103101144172575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4712103101144172575' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4712103101144172575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4712103101144172575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/07/ugh.html' title='Ugh.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7328743659698802248</id><published>2009-07-23T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T23:59:09.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Promise....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I promise that commenting on my blog will &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; lead to death or pain or any kind of cruelty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, JUST MAYBE, it'll make the world a better place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think about that.&lt;br /&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/3992462830308581942-7328743659698802248?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7328743659698802248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7328743659698802248' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7328743659698802248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7328743659698802248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-promise.html' title='I Promise....'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7428609854773264424</id><published>2009-07-22T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T18:55:02.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Name Please? Last Name, Child. First Name, Demon.</title><content type='html'>Long story short, our family's taking care of a kid that's not ours. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It's&lt;/span&gt; a girl. It's not 8, but not quite 10. And how do I feel about our little bundle of joy? If I were to commit murder, what I would say to the jury is that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. But you don't understand, I mean she has NOOOOOO manners what-so-ever. And she thinks she's alwayssss right, and when she's upset she'll raise her voice, threaten to call her mom, and says we make her "mad to death". You want me to show you death? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I will gladly show you the door to hell, as if you weren't already a citizen there. &lt;/span&gt;The worst part is that when she does something wrong, she just smiles and laughs and thinks that makes it ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therapist in my head: And how does that make you feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: That depends. Should I commit suicide, or murder?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therapist in my head: Maybe you should tell her how you feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'd have to rid the room of sharp objects first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therapist in my head: Oh my, maybe we need to get you some help dearie. *Reaches for a straightjacket*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Help? HELP? HAHAHAHAHAH. Yes. That would be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as you can see, this kid has....."Got me on my kneeees, I beg you pleaseeeeee, stop playing gamessssssss."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;God, I love Duffy and her song Mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Is it still considered child abuse if &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it's&lt;/span&gt; 50% demon and 50% flesh and bones?&lt;br /&gt;Oh....&lt;br /&gt;It is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;$h!+&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/3992462830308581942-7428609854773264424?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7428609854773264424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7428609854773264424' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7428609854773264424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7428609854773264424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/07/name-please-last-name-child-first-name.html' title='Name Please? Last Name, Child. First Name, Demon.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6096742002405658169</id><published>2009-07-22T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T17:04:40.084-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Does Visualizing Work?</title><content type='html'>So I have this hugeeee swim meet coming up on Friday, and jeez I am freaking out. I heard that if you visualize yourself swimming or whatever you'll feel better. So I was sitting in my chair, 'visualizing' myself in the pool and all I saw was Dive, Dive, Sink, Sink, Drown, Drown, Drown, CPR. My coach says I don't have good mentality. First I had to look up the word mentality. And then I decided he was right. I don't have any kind of confidence either. But who would? Once you see everyone in all the other lanes far far ahead of you, you don't exactly go, OMFG I COULD TOTALLY WHOOP THEIR ASSES FROM 20 YARDS BEHIND THEM. No. Not at all. You're just kind of like whoop-de-doo, whipped from the start. Then you pass out from being so tired and then you get yelled at for disappointing yourself and everyone else, then you cry a little and then you're like &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Damn, shoulda done soccer."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am in no way looking foreword to this swim meet. But the bright side is that hey, if I drown, maybe a hot guy will give me CPR, right? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6096742002405658169?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6096742002405658169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6096742002405658169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6096742002405658169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6096742002405658169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/07/does-visualizing-work.html' title='Does Visualizing Work?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-786327719166808861</id><published>2009-07-22T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:44:30.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Pop My Bubble, Dude.</title><content type='html'>Well it's back to the same old same old. I'm just trying to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Isn't that such a vague word? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How was your day? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How are you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fine. &lt;/span&gt;I'm kind of bothered by that word. Such passiveness and vagueness is annoying. Being bubbly and happy allllll the time can really wear a person out. I mean it's all the smiling and laughing and optimism that is like ohhmyyygodd I just want to scream from putting on this retarded little charade. Honestly I do want to be all happy and bubbly allll the time but it's like when something bad happens you want to like murder someone. But hey, the road to hell is paved with good intentions right?&lt;br /&gt;So yes, the happy me will continue to be happy, because being all upset and pissy and sad all the time will only bring other people down, and in return the Karma Gods are going to shoot me with a bolt of lightning and I will die. Basically, being happy is the only way live. Literally.&lt;br /&gt;I occupy my mind with a billion other things now. I have swimming to worry about. OHMYGOD. THAT REMINDS ME. SWIMMING TOTALLY SUCKS. OH NO WAIT, THAT'S JUST ME. Swim meet = suicide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-786327719166808861?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/786327719166808861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=786327719166808861' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/786327719166808861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/786327719166808861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/07/dont-pop-my-bubble-dude.html' title='Don&apos;t Pop My Bubble, Dude.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4037058840181050293</id><published>2009-07-18T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T12:45:16.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Listening To: Ten Days By: Missy Higgins</title><content type='html'>Sometimes it feels like the only thing I could do is to scrape away at the skin on my body. It's not a big deal, it's not like I'm killing myself. Skin heals, it's not a statement to anybody. It's just how I feel, and it's written on my body, every pent up emotion *cut* every unwanted memory *cut* for every day stuck in this God forsaken hole with out happiness *cut cut cut*. And before you know it, you're staring at all the glowing pink lines on your wrists thinking, Damn it's over. But little girl, you don't know how wrong you are. You're far past the start, and you're too far away from the edge, you're standing in the middle with no where to go. You're thoughts aren't "I don't know if I can do it." they're "I don't know if I can't do it." And yes, it does scare me that I think that. But for some reason it's comforting to know that I have an outlet. I think my stubborness is controlling me, saying that I refuse to feel better until what I need to happen, happens. And the cuts on my wrists just represent the fact that it probably won't.&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, am I sorry I did? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Honestly I don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;If someone could save me, right now would be the right time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4037058840181050293?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4037058840181050293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4037058840181050293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4037058840181050293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4037058840181050293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/07/listening-to-ten-days-by-missy-higgins.html' title='Listening To: Ten Days By: Missy Higgins'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7086927857891245927</id><published>2009-07-14T00:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:47:56.812-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Promises Are Lies and Lies Are Just Goals.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So you know how I spent post after post talking about my dream boyfriend(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Well he broke up with me :'(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And it was because he thinks he's not ready for like a relationship and/or that he's a bad boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But dude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He's not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And I don't know. Even though it's technically "not my fault" it still feels like it is. Like I could've done something to prevent this. And you know the fucked up part is that it takes 2 people to have a relationship, but it only takes one person to break up the relationship. What happened to my say in this? Oh right, I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;don't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; have a say in this. I feel as if everything I ever cared about totally got ripped right out of me. Like this was some cruel joke. To get exactly what I wanted and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; just to have it thrown away and burned in this horrible fire.    :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He was the best boyfriend I ever had :] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;. I hope someone soon will come and save me, and rescue me from this horrific life. I wish it was him, but honestly, he knows it's not him, which makes me feel like all the time and the love and everything I put into this whole thing was worth SHIT. I know he's happier without me, which makes me feel like a loser. A fucked up loser. I deserve far less, and God knows that, and so does everyone else, and that is exactly what I'm going to get. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7086927857891245927?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7086927857891245927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7086927857891245927' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7086927857891245927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7086927857891245927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/07/promises-are-lies-and-lies-are-just.html' title='Promises Are Lies and Lies Are Just Goals.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1597312098846163332</id><published>2009-06-12T11:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T11:25:36.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hurtfully Unpainful Epiphany.</title><content type='html'>Love is portrayed as a hurtful creature,&lt;br /&gt;A beast among them all,&lt;br /&gt;A beast that tears out a heart by it's strings,&lt;br /&gt;An untamed beast not meant for everyone,&lt;br /&gt;Long story short;&lt;br /&gt;Love hurts.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't know if I disagree,&lt;br /&gt;What I feel is torn by two sides,&lt;br /&gt;Neither overcoming my mind,&lt;br /&gt;Love can be an indirect cause of tears,&lt;br /&gt;hurt, and loss,&lt;br /&gt;But love is too timid a creature,&lt;br /&gt;Love, my dear, is not the source of it all.&lt;br /&gt;Love together, hand in hand,&lt;br /&gt;with betrayal and regret,&lt;br /&gt;Can successfully break down the strongest of men,&lt;br /&gt;But love never tries to hurt the innocent.&lt;br /&gt;So maybe love IS dangerous,&lt;br /&gt;But what I've been thinking is this;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe love really does hurt,&lt;br /&gt;But it's a kind of hurt you want to hold on to,&lt;br /&gt;A bruise, or a scab that you like to pick,&lt;br /&gt;But you wouldn't want to live without it,&lt;br /&gt;For this chapter in your life would be over,&lt;br /&gt;This memory would surely be ended.&lt;br /&gt;Love hurts,&lt;br /&gt;and hurt causes pain,&lt;br /&gt;and you could say pain is obsession,&lt;br /&gt;But you wouldn't want this pain to heal,&lt;br /&gt;You want to hold on to it,&lt;br /&gt;For it shows how everything's real.&lt;br /&gt;Since you want to hold on to this craving,&lt;br /&gt;It gives you a reason to think of them,&lt;br /&gt;For all we know;&lt;br /&gt;Love could be obsession.&lt;br /&gt;And so yes,&lt;br /&gt;Maybe love DOES hurt,&lt;br /&gt;But it's a hurt we want to hold on to,&lt;br /&gt;because honestly we wouldn't know how our life would be,&lt;br /&gt;if that pain were to heal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1597312098846163332?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1597312098846163332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1597312098846163332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1597312098846163332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1597312098846163332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/06/hurtfully-unpainful-epiphany.html' title='A Hurtfully Unpainful Epiphany.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6135059074519852207</id><published>2009-06-12T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T11:25:08.349-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Playground of Ours.</title><content type='html'>Hello my love,&lt;br /&gt;The world is waiting for us,&lt;br /&gt;and it's time we take hold of this playground.&lt;br /&gt;Take the world by it's reigns,&lt;br /&gt;Let blood race through your veins,&lt;br /&gt;It's time to look reality in it's face.&lt;br /&gt;Live it up, don't live down,&lt;br /&gt;Cause commotion in town!,&lt;br /&gt;Give everyone something to talk about.&lt;br /&gt;We are such 'scandalous' people,&lt;br /&gt;Who should be locked up in cages!&lt;br /&gt;We are the people on all your front pages.&lt;br /&gt;You could say that we're felons,&lt;br /&gt;Who rob hell from heaven,&lt;br /&gt;But we're being portrayed as such criminals!&lt;br /&gt;We are much past yesterday,&lt;br /&gt;and tomorrow's in our reach,&lt;br /&gt;So don't wait to live,&lt;br /&gt;Just hold on to your seats!&lt;br /&gt;Yes, we're all just flesh and bones,&lt;br /&gt;biodegradable matter,&lt;br /&gt;But why always be on the negative side?&lt;br /&gt;Optimism is SURELY the answer.&lt;br /&gt;So if you're frowning right now,&lt;br /&gt;Hang upside down on playgrounds,&lt;br /&gt;So then everyone can see your bright smile.&lt;br /&gt;Forget what you know,&lt;br /&gt;Because trust me it's unreal.,&lt;br /&gt;You'll never understand,&lt;br /&gt;Until you trust what you feel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6135059074519852207?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6135059074519852207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6135059074519852207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6135059074519852207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6135059074519852207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-playground-of-ours.html' title='This Playground of Ours.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6559669147610266589</id><published>2009-06-06T16:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T16:18:10.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Bad it's Not Even Sad.</title><content type='html'>Too bad, so sad! Well WHO CARES!!! I thought I've been over this, and I'm sure that I have. But I'm going to say it again. I HATE waiting. Especially waiting for someone to come online. I'm not even sure what the feeling is. I don't know if the word is on pause and the only think moving is me waiting slowly, or if I'm on pause waiting, and the whole word is just doing it's thing and revolving. Or maybe it's just BOTH. Even though that doesn't make sense, well everything in my life doesn't make sense. So today, I've spent a little more over 6 hours waiting for someone to go on aim. Or atleast calllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll or something. That's like 1/4th of my day. A FOURTH. And I'm STILL waiting.  I hate being the first one to do something. It makes me feel like a GUY in a relationship instead of a GIRL. So I think what I'm trying to say is :/ I feel wanted. Because I am wanted :] But I want to feel needed. And I think I definitely show I need people, but people need to start showing that they need me :[ And if you need me and you don't do something about it. Wellllll, so bad it's not even sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/3992462830308581942-6559669147610266589?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6559669147610266589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6559669147610266589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6559669147610266589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6559669147610266589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/06/so-bad-its-not-even-sad.html' title='So Bad it&apos;s Not Even Sad.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6231494025501850350</id><published>2009-05-31T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:32:46.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Run, Don't Walk.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Haven't you ever just wanted something exciting to come and just interrupt your thoughts. To paint the walls of your head with colors of the rainbowwww. Well today, is just NOT one of those days. Nothing new has disrupted my thoughts. Nothing amazing has brought brilliance to my eyes. The only thing I see is the irritation killing everything around me. I want to go in to some corner and just be FRUSTRATED. Because that is what I totally FREAKING AM RIGHT NOW. FRUSTRATED AND PISSED AT THIS WHOLE GODDAMN WORLD. I want someone to come and talk to me. And not have any issues and just TALK to me, and make me laugh. Make me SMILE. And if you can't do that, then just please, PLEASE DON'T EVEN TALK TO ME. I hate waiting, I hate it SO MUCH I want to CRY when I have to wait more than a second to hear a reply. I have waited for things ALL my life, and I don't want to anymore. I am TIRED of it. So if you don't answer me quickly, then just leave me the HELL alone. If you can't answer the phone when I call, don't BOTHER ever calling me. And really, if you can't even just leave a message or something, then why WHY are you my friend? Honestly I don't even know why I'm mad. SO MAD. Maybe because it feels like I'm waiting on the world. Like I'm waiting for someone to keep up the same pace as me. You know? Someone who can reply like LIGHTNING and just be there for me to never miss a second of anything. Every minute you don't answer me, it's a minute wasted. Wasted on waiting. And I hate that. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;HATE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;it. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So please, PLEASE world. GIVE me a break. And find someone to keep up the pace with me. Because if noone can, I'll just run circles around the Earth until I find someone who can. Is it that hard to find that quality in someone? Answering me quickly? Maybe it sounds like I want to be a top priority. I don't know, am I a top priority, to anyone? Does someone pay all their attention to me? Maybe I just want attention. ALL of someone's attention. I just want someone to keep up with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Run don't walk, the sky is falling through."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6231494025501850350?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6231494025501850350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6231494025501850350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6231494025501850350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6231494025501850350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/run-dont-walk.html' title='Run, Don&apos;t Walk.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-484970061027916563</id><published>2009-05-31T21:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:16:17.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Completely Irritable.</title><content type='html'>Hot long days make me irritated.&lt;div&gt;Waiting makes me irritated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PEOPLE make me irritated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So today is hot. And long. And irritating. Everything is irritating about it. What irritates me the most is when people don't answer you right away. Or when you don't really....oh my god what's the word for it. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Waiting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Yea, that's it. Honestly. Waiting. Really? I, I HATE waiting. I am no princess. OBVIOUSLY. I don't have servants that wait on me hand and foot. But really, if I have to wait for anything one more time, I'm going to end up flinging myself off a cliff. Might as well cut to the chase, instead of having a slow and painful death &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;waiting&lt;/span&gt; to die. Excuse me while I pleasantly go kill myself by jumping off a cliff. I'd rather do that then let this slow irritation SLOWLY irritate me to death. Mr. Irritation, if you're going to kill me, couldya doit a lil faster here?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-484970061027916563?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/484970061027916563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=484970061027916563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/484970061027916563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/484970061027916563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/completely-irritable.html' title='Completely Irritable.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1067134197636737529</id><published>2009-05-30T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T16:53:21.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>51 +</title><content type='html'>I'm adding on to my list, but I didn't want to continue on the same post. Soooo here it goes.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you fucked up, don't try to make excuses for yourself.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If something is your fault, then just admit it. Tell her you're sorry, and she'll forgive you. It's that easy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Never leave a girl mad, and never leave things just as they are. Don't even &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt; about leaving until you've fixed things.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes you need more than just an apology to be forgiven.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls will feel horrible, even when it isn't their fault.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Know when to let go of everything.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls need time to forgive you, don't just apologize a billion times in 5 minutes, I'm sorry should be used in moderation just as well.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Always remember the first rule. Saying something sweet will temporarily get you off the hook, but doing something sweet will always get you off the hook.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's it for now. I'll keep posting later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1067134197636737529?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1067134197636737529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1067134197636737529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1067134197636737529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1067134197636737529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/51.html' title='51 +'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4321060347074344443</id><published>2009-05-28T01:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T18:50:40.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My List.</title><content type='html'>Ok, so you know how you always see those lists of what girls what guys to know, and things that guys should do? WELL, I decided to make my OWN list. I mean, I am a blog aren't I? I have to take part in this special rituals ;)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Saying something nice will temporarily get you off the hook, but doing something incredibly nice will always get you off the hook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Anything you girlfriend tells you, she told YOU. She didn't tell your friends, so why should you?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls absolutely hate waiting, and the sad thing is, they've probably waited for you to call once before, so just spare them now, and just CALL.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's always nice to call, or email or something once in a while, to show that you care.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Although a girl will want to pay half for everything, to her friends, it will always seem like you're a jerk for not paying for her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you're girlfriend doesn't want to do something, don't push her to do it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you're girlfriend tells you, "You don't get it.", than trust me, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOU DON'T GET IT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls PMS, and they have shitty days, so get over it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls don't only want to be complimented, why don't you actually DO something to show her how much you love her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't act upset or sad around her, you'll down her mood.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't always push her to do what you want to do, let her be a girl sometimes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If she hit you, she has a good reason.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It will NEVER be okay to scoop her. NEVER EVER.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't make fun of the things she likes. If she likes stupid music, let her like it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If she isn't comfortable around your friends, don't always have her be around your friends.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't always ask her to come to you, maybe you should go to her sometimes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Try to be interested in what she's interested in. If she has a soccer game, try and go. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't tell her she looks pretty only when she's wearing a dress or something, tell her she looks the best when she feels at the worst.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't be so uptight and serious around her! Let loose.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T SHOW OFF. It's not even worth showing off if she doesn't care.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't have an ego. Make your girlfriend a top priority, if she's not one she'll know. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't even THINK about forgetting her birthday. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't get her something stupid for her birthday. Always try to pick up those little things she mentions once. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;PAY ATTENTION. Don't wander like an idiot. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Never laugh AT your girlfriend. Trust me, she won't laugh back.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If there's an awkward silence, don't wait for her to fill it up. SAY SOMETHING.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love you means so much more when it's in person. Don't wait until you're alone or online to tell her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls like to joke around, you'll know when they're serious.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Your girlfriend will never enjoy being around your ex girlfriend. Your ex girlfriend is always a hoe. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In a fight, your ex girlfriend will never right. So never defend her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls can be mean, but don't tell her that. Telling her she said something mean, will just make her feel really self conscious.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls will always hear about the things that you told your friends. ALWAYS.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls want to hear the cute stuff that you would never think about telling them. So just tell them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't EVER look in their bags. They have GIRL stuff.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Memorize your girlfriend's phone number. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have a way for your girlfriend to always reach you. Whether it's a phone or something.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ALWAYS ANSWER YOUR PHONE. If a girl actually CALLS you and you're NOT there, she won't want to call you again!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Plan something sweet everyday. Whether you wrote her a song, or a poem, or you just have something sweet planned, try to do something everyday. She'll love you forever.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't take a long to answer on a phone or take a long time to REPLY TO AN EMAIL or REPLY TO AN INSTANT MESSAGE.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't take long showers, or a long time doing anything, because she'll be waiting.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love you too should ALWAYS be the reply to I love you. If you say something like Ok, or Allright, she will MURDER YOU IN HER HEAD.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you think something would embarrass her.... DON'T DO IT DUMBSHIT.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do the stupid silly things with her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Learn to express how you feel about her. Find new wonderful cute things to say to her. You're pretty and awesome get old. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The guys should always lean first. (*cough* You know. LEAN?)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you BOUGHT her something. You BOUGHT it for her. Don't ever EVER even think of saying something like, but remember that time I bought you that sweater?! You owe me now!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T ASK GIRLS TO PAY YOU BACK! It's kind of rude. Uhm. Yea. Just rude. Unless it's over like 50 dollars, don't keep reminding her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It might not be her birthday or christmas, and just because you're not rich, doesn't mean that a small present wouldn't be cute right? Like, always pick out the small things she mentions once. Her pencil breaks? GO BUY HER A NEW ONE. : D But ONLY if it's cute. x]&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Let her diss your friends. BUT THEN DON'T TELL YOUR FRIENDS.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Never tell a girl that she is taking too long to do something. ESPECIALLY makeup. And don't try to rush her. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Most importantly, when she says goodbye and leaves, she's not just saying goodbye. She's trying to see if you'll come running after her. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div&gt;Feel free to comment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4321060347074344443?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4321060347074344443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4321060347074344443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4321060347074344443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4321060347074344443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-list.html' title='My List.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-2051183725018905753</id><published>2009-05-25T23:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T00:00:31.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Moments are like Lemons.</title><content type='html'>Sooooo.&lt;div&gt;Today we went to go see Danceflick. Which I TOTALLY recommend seeing because it is SUPER funny. I mean like, EVERYTHING is funny to me, but this was &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exceptionally &lt;/span&gt;funny. Which totally means something coming from me.      ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; was there and it was insanely insane. In a good way. So we were holding hands through the whole movie and it was just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfect. &lt;/span&gt;There was one part of the day where he was kind of paranoid about other people, so he would pull away when I tried to hold his hand, but I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;totally&lt;/span&gt; understand, because I can be paranoid a lot too. So it's not even a big deal. x] So then we're holding hands during the movie and even though I'm grossing myself out from having sweaty hands, he doesn't even care which is pretty damn &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sweet&lt;/span&gt;. And now I'm enjoying just being with him even more, which I couldn't even imagine that being possible! I just love being close to him and everything :] He's &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;lovable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-size:medium;"&gt;And we even had this one &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-style: normal;  font-size:medium;"&gt;perfect&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; moment. It was so adorably cute, because it was just like in that one moment of time I just loved him &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so incredibly much.&lt;/span&gt; I almost thought we were going to kiss &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;:-o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But I didn't want to make the first move or anything, because I consider some things, just 'guy' things to do, you know? But I'm fine nothing happened, because I probably would have broken his nose :/ I mean HONESTLY PEOPLE, which way do you tilt your head? Lol, so many random thoughts :/ But these things will just *happpennnn* and it will be amazing. : D I mean life only hands you so little perfect moments :) Hahah this is not fair. Why does he have to be so perfect? :] And all I can do is document how much I love him. Well, this is it for now, thinking about him makes my heart beat &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; a little bit too fast. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite quote :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"They all ask me what's so special about him but I don't tell them because I'm afraid they'll fall in love too." &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/3992462830308581942-2051183725018905753?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/2051183725018905753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=2051183725018905753' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2051183725018905753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2051183725018905753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/perfect-moments-are-like-lemons.html' title='Perfect Moments are like Lemons.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6564327528242146142</id><published>2009-05-24T01:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T02:01:13.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Inside Joke.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No,&lt;/span&gt; I'm not laughing at you.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No, &lt;/span&gt;I'm not laughing with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No, &lt;/span&gt;no one made a joke.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No, &lt;/span&gt;I'm not just being ditzy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But my heart faints at your encounter,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My head is wrapped around every syllable of every word you say,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At first, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I can manage to do,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is curve my lips into a smile,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Inside I can barely hear my own thoughts,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I can't help to stifle a giggle,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until my eyes are completely enlightened by the brilliance of your presence,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Glowing with happiness,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's building up inside of me uncontrollably,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And in the end,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm bursting out with laughter,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You ask me what I could &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;ever possibly &lt;/span&gt;be laughing at,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and I can only say,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;" Like I would ever tell you. "&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-6564327528242146142?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6564327528242146142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6564327528242146142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6564327528242146142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6564327528242146142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/inside-joke.html' title='An Inside Joke.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6310260938258035470</id><published>2009-05-23T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T01:02:24.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Rain.</title><content type='html'>Our love is like &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ummer rain&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unpredictable but anticipated,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Neither the warmth of the sun,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nor the chilled rainy dew drops alone,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Could ever feel as amazing as,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;where both ends  meet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some people fear summer rain,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hiding under umbrellas and ponchos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I stood in the summer rain,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Completely vulnerable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I knew you were the one,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;because you stood there with me,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and we held hands,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;all through the summer rain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-6310260938258035470?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6310260938258035470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6310260938258035470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6310260938258035470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6310260938258035470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/summer-rain.html' title='Summer Rain.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-2119507681703284254</id><published>2009-05-23T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T18:00:12.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>&lt;3</title><content type='html'>Sooooo we've been going out for 5 days.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*Dorky smiley faceeeee*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Anddd I am absolutely &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*glowinggggg&lt;/span&gt;* with happiness :] Ahhh he's absolutely perfect, and I'm perfectly unperfect which makes everything perfectly perfect :D I may not be a math person but I am suchhh a logic person. I would say that the only &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;fantaztimo&lt;/span&gt; thing about being a writer, is that I can almost-kindof-sorta-notreally-butclose describe 1/8th of how much I love him and whyyyyyyy. I mean for one thing, he wants me to be happy! And he tries to do whatever makes me happy, but all I want to do is be with him and I'm already happy, I don't need anything elseee. So then we're both being completely passive wanting to do whatever the other person wants to do, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and I love it. x] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; "&gt;I just sooperdydooperdy wish that everything I'm feeling can just put itself into words, so I can showwwww him that he means like the world to me! And when he's gone I feel insanely bummed and am on the verge of counting the minutes, which by the way I have only done &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;once. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Or twice...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; *Shining Angel Halo*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;And when I see him my heart practically starts beating like I'm having a seizure or something, but you know &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;play it cool. B-) &lt;/span&gt;On the inside I'm secretly freaking out though :] And when we're holding hands I'm pretty much like &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;dying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; on the inside, because he's absolutely &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;perrrrfect. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So basically,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;I don't want to be with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-size: large;"&gt;I neeeed to be with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: 18px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Haven't you heardd? I told him I loved him :] Which means I get to keep him foreverrrr and always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-2119507681703284254?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/2119507681703284254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=2119507681703284254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2119507681703284254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2119507681703284254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/3.html' title='&lt;3'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5989409093387047697</id><published>2009-05-23T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T00:35:37.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Love, Part 2 :p</title><content type='html'>Lol, I know how much you miss my pointless ranting, but I'm just going to carry one to this post about how much I love him :] &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Haha, ok so we went to this playground the other day and it was so much fun :) There's this like &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px;"&gt;Ginormostastic &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;banyan tree and me, him, and my friend were all sitting in it and it was super chill and fun. And then he sat next to me and we held hands, and then again I had that really stupid look on my face. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ok I just have to explain this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Why do I have this stupid weird face when I look at him?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Like I was saying, ahhh it's unbelievable that someone can like me like he does :] And so then when I look at him while we're holding hands, I'm just super &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;STARSTRUKKED&lt;/span&gt; and first I just look kind of sad, because I know eventually he has to leave, then I smile, because I'm so incredibly happy on the inside that he's with me that I'm just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;smiling and glowing :) &lt;/span&gt;, and what you don't understand is that I might be like JUMPING up and down like I LOVE YOU *JUMPJUMPJUMP* but on the inside it feels &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A-MAZING.&lt;/span&gt; Like your head is completely cleared from useless shit and you're absolutely oblivious to everything else, and you're just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;happy&lt;/span&gt; in the moment and just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;happy.&lt;/span&gt;And then I dunno I just start LAUGHING. I think I laugh because I know I look stupid, but that I'm just smiling and I'm so happy that it just like overwhelms me and I just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; to start laughing, and it's like I'm laughing at some secret little joke that I would never tell him about :] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;i lalalove youuuu &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5989409093387047697?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5989409093387047697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5989409093387047697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5989409093387047697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5989409093387047697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-love-part-2-p.html' title='In Love, Part 2 :p'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5058437169039498947</id><published>2009-05-18T00:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T19:33:10.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Haha, that's nice :]</title><content type='html'>Isn't it super weird how like it seems like I talk about &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; guys alot, but actually it's reallyyy far spread apart? Lol. Ok, sooo blog, I'm kind of going out with this guy. And he's the nicest, sweetest guy ever. And of course, I never use names ;) Yea so first of all, I'm not like used to or 'am good at' being alone with like one person. It's not awkward, because nothing ever is, things are just weird. But when we're alone:&lt;div&gt;1.) I feel like someone is gonna see us and just be like O.O wowzerz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And 2.) When I'm with him I'm SUPER happy and like, well he doesn't know how happy, because it's wayyyy to hard to explain it in comprehendible words, but like I'm so happy inside that when I say something it just comes out as like "I...uhm...H-.....uhm...." And then I smile REALLY big, because that's the best I can do. I'm a writer you know? I should be able to say all this mushycorny stuff that I want to say, but when I'm with him I'm just so incredibly star struck that I can't even say a thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel horrifically horrible! Because he wants us to be alone, but I'm just so used to being social with a big group, but he's seriously the sweetest person ever :] Like I was born with this thing and my hands will sweat ALOT ALOT, hyperhidrosis, and so I was like, oh I don't want to hold hands because I don't want to gross you out, but he's so nice and he's like well I don't care and we hold hands anyways, and I'm super happy, even though I know he's secretly grossed out, but it's just so niceeee :] And so we're holding hands, and we're sitting down, and I give him this really stupid look that I have when I'm with him, I just smile a lot, laugh a lot, and it's like I'm laughing at a joke that he'll never figure out, because he won't know how much I love him :]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love love love love love love love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, someone who loves the unwuvable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stay happy, stay clean, stay freshhhh&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't be mad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;GET GLAD :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5058437169039498947?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5058437169039498947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5058437169039498947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5058437169039498947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5058437169039498947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/haha-thats-nice.html' title='Haha, that&apos;s nice :]'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-2558600285722752081</id><published>2009-05-13T02:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T02:07:10.501-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:[</title><content type='html'>The most depressing thing to witness is to see a boy and girl that love each other so much.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you wish you were the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you wish he was the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;guy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Because he is the guy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-2558600285722752081?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/2558600285722752081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=2558600285722752081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2558600285722752081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2558600285722752081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title=':['/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-2408364818702054824</id><published>2009-05-11T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T23:47:17.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unleash the Beast Within.</title><content type='html'>Ok. So. I'm kind of the incredible hulk. I get angry and hurt incredibly easy, and when I'm angry, oh lord, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I am FREAKIN' ANGRY. &lt;/span&gt; Especially with my family, who should have more common sense and be a little more, hm.... CONSIDERATE? But yea, it doesn't matter, I mean &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;it's just me right? Right, right. &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes I feel like I could just get my laptop and just throw it at a window, or just punch a wall or just punch SOMEONES' FACE. Seriously I can get so irritated and this Little Miss Sunshine wants to set everyone on fire. How ironic. &lt;div&gt;I literally have to chain myself down and put myself in a straight suit to keep me from killing the irritating. There are the irritating and the irritable, I'm pretty much part of both, but I am like incredible hulk irritable. I can seriously feel myself breathing hard, and like biting down on my tongue to keep myself from saying all the nasty shit that we all know that I'm &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;totally&lt;/span&gt; capable of saying. I have a blog don't I? I swore to God that I'm not a psycho bitch, but hey, things change right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-2408364818702054824?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/2408364818702054824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=2408364818702054824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2408364818702054824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/2408364818702054824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/unleash-beast-within.html' title='Unleash the Beast Within.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3004449313701052237</id><published>2009-05-10T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T00:03:14.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh geez.</title><content type='html'>Ok, so the person I thought was absolutely perfect was absolutely &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:x-large;"&gt;NOT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:x-large;"&gt; Like isn't is funny how you think you're totally in love with someone until you spend just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;one day&lt;/span&gt; with them, and you're just like oh....oh wow.....oh geez....uhm..yeaaaaaaa. No. Mr. Perfect is such a player. He's like :/ a mini pimp. Needa visual?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Picture this : 3 Musketeers bar. Everyone LOVES 3 musketeers bars, and people don't mind sharing 3 musketeers bars, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like a pimp.&lt;/span&gt; Now picture a mini 3 musketeers bar. Still the same lovable 3 musketeers bar, just mini sized, and just not &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;quite&lt;/span&gt; there yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But close.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, that's what he's like. He's a mini pimp. Not quite a pimp, but a pimp, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;except he still has some innocence left.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hahahah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mini pimps.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Look at what our world is reduced to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So yea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm once again:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:24px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Single and Crushless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:24px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:24px;"&gt;I'm Cringle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:24px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:24px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:24px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:24px;"&gt;Damn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-3004449313701052237?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3004449313701052237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3004449313701052237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3004449313701052237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3004449313701052237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/oh-geez.html' title='Oh geez.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7671768496382880335</id><published>2009-05-09T12:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T17:05:47.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh, FML.</title><content type='html'>The day I get my braces off, our car &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;ONCE AGAIN&lt;/span&gt; decides to NOT START. I would be less pissed if like this was the first time, but the last time this happened was like 2 days ago. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-size:x-large;"&gt;specifically said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:x-large;"&gt;, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our car is dead. D - E - A - D. It has officially committed suicide. You can not bring it back from the dead."&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So yea. My parents spent 500 bucks on fixing it. But like I said, "You can't bring it back from the dead." But does anyone ever listen to me? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;VER?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; No. Absolutely not. I don't mean to be racist against my own race, but ugh, ASIAN PARENTS. They are absolutely delusional! They refuse to believe that something is broken, nothing is ever BROKEN, everything is fixable and useable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/3992462830308581942-7671768496382880335?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7671768496382880335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7671768496382880335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7671768496382880335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7671768496382880335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/ugh-fml.html' title='Ugh, FML.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-942286108704250817</id><published>2009-05-08T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T23:53:58.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Unwuvable.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Awwwww... I really like this guy &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oh no.... she's talking about someone again...."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shut up blog, and listen. Do you want to be my rant buddy or not? Oh wait, I guess for now you are my confession buddy :p"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Fine....continue..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok sorry, my blog and I were just having a hear to heart. SO incredibly nice to me. He always says nice things to me, and he's just so &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;HUGGABLE.&lt;/span&gt; Have you noticed that about some guys, that they are just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;HUGGABLE?&lt;/span&gt; Eeeep, hahaha I just eeped, anyways, he sticks up for me when people diss me, even when they're joke dissing, but still, it's so sweet. But sometimes he sends out weird signals :/ Or as the ever so famous Ellen Degenerous puts it, "vibrations". &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LMFAO (laaamaaafaowwww:)  &lt;/span&gt;Once or twice he has pretty much implied that he likes me, but then sometimes he'll talk about some other girl? It's so confusing, this girl, who I don't really know, he is like madly in love with her :p But I think they're not as &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;ti-iiighhhttt, &lt;/span&gt;anymore. I feel bad, but at the same time I'm like yayy. He is absolutely adowabowww :l Oh geez, and the worst part, everytime I'm like by his side,I just want to touch his cute wittle face ^.^ Or I really want to hold his hand! AWwwwwww, I wuv youuu. I just wish you'd love me too :[&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Songs as "visuals" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't get it either xD&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Make You Feel My Love - ADELE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Happy - Nevershoutnever!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. I'm Yours - The Script&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;THE MAN WHO CAN'T BE MOVED - THE SCRIPT  ( MY ABSOLUTE TOP ONE!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Still Around - 3OH!3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pwease say you'll wuv me back :[ :[ :[ :[ :[ :[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Because I'll always be hereeee waiting for you &lt;3&lt;3&lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;It's too bad I'm part of the unwuvable as well as the irkable. D;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-942286108704250817?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/942286108704250817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=942286108704250817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/942286108704250817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/942286108704250817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/awwwww.html' title='The Unwuvable.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7192511684537763948</id><published>2009-05-08T23:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T23:36:40.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spit it out.</title><content type='html'>Hello young boys and girls. I have a question.... Why is it, that if you really really like someone, you don't just ask them out? Are you afraid of rejection? Well &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OF COURSE. &lt;/span&gt;But should rejection get in your way for someone you really like?Even me, Ms.UnnoticedBloggerFrogPrincess is terrified out of her pants that she peed in of rejection. But from rejection, you just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;move on.&lt;/span&gt; And you're probably like move on? That's so frikkin incredibly hard. It &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;seems&lt;/span&gt; that way doesn't it? But when one door closes another one opens right? Maybe there's someone RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU that you don't even say, that really likes you, but you don't even notice. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh geez, now my blog is sad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But my point is, don't feel scared, and just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DO IT. (&lt;/span&gt;Hahahah Nike&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You'll be surprised at what will come out. Have you seen Yes Man? That's a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;awesomelicious&lt;/span&gt; movie. He has no idea what's out there, or what he wants, but he's just going for it, and in some weird way, it just works out. The only difference between someone like you and someone like him, is that you know what's out there, more like &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who's&lt;/span&gt; out there, and you know &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; what you want, and if you just  GO FOR IT, things will find a way to work out for you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7192511684537763948?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7192511684537763948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7192511684537763948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7192511684537763948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7192511684537763948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/spit-it-out.html' title='Spit it out.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-318717478308799356</id><published>2009-05-08T23:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T23:26:35.165-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Irkable.</title><content type='html'>So now you know. I am part of.... the irkable. What is the irkable? The Irkable are the people who are irk-able. I am just getting SO PEEVED at like everything. For one thing, I HATE this STUPID private school. It's not the stupid sob story where I'm "hiding behind a mask" and no one will ever understand me. No, not at all. It's like I have put myself entirely out there, and everyone is just rejecting it, rejecting &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;. And this stupid friend thing. Friends are supposed to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be there.&lt;/span&gt; I have no pet peeve against people changing, because change can be for the better, and I am &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;living proof&lt;/span&gt; of that. But when people change for the&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; worse....&lt;/span&gt; Well what the hell am I supposed to do? You can't TELL the person that, and you can't just IGNORE it. And I am just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SO SICK OF EVERYTHING. EVERY SINGLE THING.&lt;/span&gt; For once, JUST ONCE, can't I just live my life? Everything was going right, the friends, school, swimming, it was just so....&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;simple.&lt;/span&gt; And I love simple, because when things get complicated, they're just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;complicated.&lt;/span&gt; And you know what Blog? There's a guy involved too. Doesn't that suck? &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Si. &lt;/span&gt;So Blog, until next time. &lt;div&gt;I love you Rant Buddy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-318717478308799356?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/318717478308799356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=318717478308799356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/318717478308799356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/318717478308799356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/irkable.html' title='The Irkable.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-9037791039016279638</id><published>2009-05-01T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T20:12:51.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loving invisible children.</title><content type='html'>That my blog is a loser. And that my blog is a reflection of me.&lt;div&gt;Damn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xD&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one reads it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My blog is like an invisible child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or Casper. But Casper had like MOVIES and stuff.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's like one of those parents who care for their children so much, but they can't make their children famous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You poor child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will always love you blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's ok if no one else will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will always love my invisible child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-9037791039016279638?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/9037791039016279638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=9037791039016279638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/9037791039016279638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/9037791039016279638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/05/loving-invisible-children.html' title='Loving invisible children.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4232789483085185198</id><published>2009-04-19T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T13:25:03.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn.</title><content type='html'>Wowwww, " I hope I don't mess up my messed up mess up even more. "&lt;div&gt;Well it's too late for that. What the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HELL IS MY PROBLEM? &lt;/span&gt;I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ALWAYS&lt;/span&gt; confront people, especially when I'm not supposed to. And I am &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SO OFFENDED&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EVERYTHING!&lt;/span&gt; I mean you say one thing to me, and my mind just goes into overdrive, it's like "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh...What does THAT mean?"&lt;/span&gt; or like "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;God, wtf?" &lt;/span&gt;or "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh that's so nice."&lt;/span&gt; I am one of those people that you pretty much need to spell things out to, because I can not read people. I mean I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can&lt;/span&gt; read people, like I can sorta tell if something's bothering them, by the way they act, like if they're super peevy, you can tell they're peeved. So anyways, what's my plan?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To shut up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just not say anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just need to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SHUT. UP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No more words.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Words ruin everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At this point,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;words can't be the thing that fixes &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-4232789483085185198?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4232789483085185198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4232789483085185198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4232789483085185198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4232789483085185198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/04/damn.html' title='Damn.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-301818773199564788</id><published>2009-04-19T00:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T00:49:11.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor Dying Trees.</title><content type='html'>Have you ever felt like you were absolutely hopeless? It's like you see one of those dying trees, I mean it's &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;dying&lt;/span&gt; for gods sake. Technically it's alive, but technically it was always dying. Kind of like us huh? I mean we're alive, but technically we're just dying every minute. There are things we do to help our life span increase, but in the end we all just rise, fall, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and hopefully rise again.&lt;/span&gt; But I just feel so &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hopeless&lt;/span&gt; because my mess up is remaining &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;messed. up.&lt;/span&gt; I can't blame it on anyone but myself, because technically I was the one who messed it up in the first place. And this is bad, I mean this is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;REAL&lt;/span&gt; bad for me to even feel this way, but I just feel like it's not ALL. MY. FAULT. But when I slap myself back into reality, I realize that ohemgee, it totally frikkin is. But it's just like, everything was said, everything was brought to the table, but at the same time, I bite my tongue SO HARD that it's bleeding out the words and silent screams that I can't even utter myself. There are just things that I want, or &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; to say, but at this point I don't know which one it is. If I say them, and it's taken the wrong way, then I pretty much just messed up my mess up even more. Sometimes I wish that other people could think and see things the way I did, but I'm scared that if they did, they would hate me even more. I'm such a horrible person and friend. People can handle me, they can't take me, and I guess one way or the other I screw them over even if I had no intention to do so. But all I ask this time is not an apology, not a dramatic leave, not some tragic sob story, I just ask, no I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;BEG&lt;/span&gt; on my hands and knees for forgiveness. We can never truly forgive and forget, but maybe that's what makes it so great, that once you forgive, the things you can't forget help you move on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-301818773199564788?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/301818773199564788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=301818773199564788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/301818773199564788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/301818773199564788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/04/poor-dying-trees.html' title='Poor Dying Trees.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3162861048921770889</id><published>2009-04-19T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T00:37:38.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry's Not Enough This Time.</title><content type='html'>I was &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;such&lt;/span&gt; a bad friend. And the worst part is, when I did these horrible things to my best friend, I didn't even realize I was doing it. Like exclusion and being a whiny b-.... I have such a bad habit of complaining about things that aren't even that big of a deal, or a deal at all. But sometimes I guess that I feel like no one really gives a shizz about me unless something bad happens to me. Like is it just me, or does no one actually care until your parents beat the shizz out of you or something?! And I'm so JEALOUS TOO. It's not like the 'I want you all to myself' kind of jealous, it's more of the, 'Damn I wish I was like that...." jealous. I see a pretty face and I'm just like damn...I wish I was like that. I think I always knew that I just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;had it coming.&lt;/span&gt; I am soooo naive to think that if I lived life oblivious to everything that nothing could ever go wrong, but then I realized I was being totally oblivious to everything wrong too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-3162861048921770889?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3162861048921770889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3162861048921770889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3162861048921770889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3162861048921770889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/04/sorrys-not-enough-this-time.html' title='Sorry&apos;s Not Enough This Time.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7314842048740353991</id><published>2009-02-22T20:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T17:14:24.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting lazy much?</title><content type='html'>Ok, so now I know that toys can be VERYY entertaining and commercials too. But that's only when they're about COOLL TOYSSS. Cool toys for cool kids! I am SOOO gonna exercise my free speech rights! So what do I think is a stupid commercial, slash "invennntionnnn". SNUGGIE.&lt;div&gt;OMG!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IT'S THE BLANKET WITH SLEEVES!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.... -.-"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is the SAME THING as wearing a jacket under a blanket. Is that too hard? And then there's toy inventors who pretty much use the same concept as NEOPETS and TAMAGOTCHIS and then just add a pretty design or a "twist" to it. Like putting it in a box instead of like a round shape thingy. Ughhhh, so lammeeee. My heart is breaking from the lameness. And I don't care if I get sued for this or something, but SERIOUSLY, carpet sliders?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They pretty much said in the commercial that it's plastic with straps on. WHO NEEDS TO SLIDE ON CARPETS?!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just wear SOCKS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blargleflarg.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Such rip off artists.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So you "toy inventors",&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;get a real jobbbbb,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and a life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7314842048740353991?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7314842048740353991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7314842048740353991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7314842048740353991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7314842048740353991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/02/getting-lazy-much.html' title='Getting lazy much?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4772483912496949877</id><published>2009-02-18T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T22:27:11.535-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hahaha</title><content type='html'>Laughter goes a long way.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/267/"&gt;&lt;img alt="Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic" src="http://www.flashasylum.com/db/files/Comics/stud0001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cyanide &amp;amp; Happiness @ &lt;a href="http://www.explosm.net"&gt;Explosm.net&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4772483912496949877?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4772483912496949877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4772483912496949877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4772483912496949877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4772483912496949877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/02/hahaha.html' title='Hahaha'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1570171119203954894</id><published>2009-02-13T21:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T21:27:55.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wooden Swings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; line-height: 24px; "&gt;I want to burn my memories,&lt;br /&gt;With self pity that glows a faint red,&lt;br /&gt;To be able to go on wooden swings,&lt;br /&gt;and fly off in between forever and eternity,&lt;br /&gt;I would fade away into a distant reality,&lt;br /&gt;Where I can reminisce of genuine laughter,&lt;br /&gt;Where complication was the least of our problems,&lt;br /&gt;and friends really were forever,&lt;br /&gt;With cartwheels in fields of daisies,&lt;br /&gt;We would lie on the grass,&lt;br /&gt;and stare into the pretty nothings of our world,&lt;br /&gt;To be able to go on wooden swings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1570171119203954894?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1570171119203954894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1570171119203954894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1570171119203954894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1570171119203954894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/02/wooden-swings.html' title='Wooden Swings'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-504374829786275383</id><published>2009-02-12T18:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T19:03:08.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whoazomg.</title><content type='html'>Whoaaa I haven't posted since Jan 20th. Sorry for all the (somewhat) dedicated readers. I haven't been doing so well. A lot of messed up stuff happened, but whatevers. I'm used to like fxxked up stuff happening to me. But I think what you have to remember is that you have to say to yourself "I don't deserve to punish myself. I refuse to be the person that people pity, and I refuse to be the person that pities herself." So yea. Life goes on right? &lt;div&gt;The only thing that irks me is that tomorrow is valentines day. It's single awareness day everyone. Yayyyyy. I mean don't get me wrong, I love my friends, but all the couples are doing SOOO MUCH PDA. (Note: Public Displays of Affection) I mean it's like SCHOOL. Some people are just like so close to crossing the line of Affectionate to Porno. Like get a room! (But I don't suggest that.) Anyways, I wanted to recommend a site to any aspiring poets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Allpoetry.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Post work, read others' work, it's a great site! My username is writerintoodeep if you wanna check out like the 2 poems I posted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I promise to keep you updated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blogging comes 1st.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-504374829786275383?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/504374829786275383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=504374829786275383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/504374829786275383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/504374829786275383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/02/whoazomg.html' title='Whoazomg.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5088296482234412599</id><published>2009-01-20T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T21:18:04.469-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Circus / Other stuff I guess...</title><content type='html'>I just can NOT deal with people who dislike Britney Spears. Like SERIOUSLY, she is like the frikkin goddess of music. Her new CD circus, BUY IT. It is like INSANELY good. I really like the song, Circus, of course, and Mannequin. Mannequin is really quite catchy. And Womanizer, is like the ultimate party song. Whoop Whoop. Britney Spears is having the most known come back ever, and although some of you guys STILL doubt her...DON'T. She's out to get you! So you better buy her Cd, before she takes over the world!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5088296482234412599?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5088296482234412599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5088296482234412599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5088296482234412599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5088296482234412599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/01/circus-other-stuff-i-guess.html' title='Circus / Other stuff I guess...'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7074028512625346507</id><published>2009-01-15T00:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T00:16:48.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love = Patience</title><content type='html'>The greatest lesson you can ever learn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7074028512625346507?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7074028512625346507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7074028512625346507' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7074028512625346507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7074028512625346507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/01/love-patience.html' title='Love = Patience'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8534622503167024314</id><published>2009-01-01T02:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T03:01:53.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ecstatic.</title><content type='html'>How did I spend my new years eve? Welll, I spent it crying locked in a bathroom.&lt;div&gt;You make one mistake pointing a certain firecracker in the wrong direction and all of a sudden you're like the number one hated person of 08'/09'. And then, I think I really hate photographers now. Because my crazed obsessed brother was stuck on the roof with his stupid expensive camera and his important 'TRIPOOODDDD' and after BEGGING us to buy these stupid ground bloomer thingies, he doesn't even SET THEM OFF he spends like 4 hours on the roof going CLICK CLICK CLICK *nod* *tilt* CLICK CLICK CLICK. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;UGH!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I HATE MY LIFE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A great new years, that's ALL I ASKED FOR.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A TRIPOD IS MORE IMPORTANT THEN MEH.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I swear to God that I'm going to get that tripod, stick all those dumbass ground bloomers on them and set it OFF.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then when everything is in flames, I'm going to get that ladder and make a bonfire out of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Guess what betches?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We're in fxxking hell!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You think after my shetty xmas I'd be having a better new years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;HA.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you guys have a great year, and HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Break out the apple cider ya'll ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Thu. 12:59 AM Jan 1st 2009!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-8534622503167024314?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8534622503167024314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8534622503167024314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8534622503167024314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8534622503167024314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2009/01/ecstatic.html' title='Ecstatic.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6072003801553534425</id><published>2008-12-31T15:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T18:01:44.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendship = Icecream. Duhhh</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="fullImage" src="http://i147.photobucket.com/albums/r301/writerintoodeep/PB090250.jpg?t=1230775237" alt="PB090250.jpg picture by writerintoodeep" galleryimg="no" onmouseover="if(isMouseOver(this,event,600))togglePhotoActionsMenu('show',true);" onmouseout="if(!isMouseOver(this,event,600))togglePhotoActionsMenu('hide',true);" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The sweet smell of friendship &lt;333&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6072003801553534425?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6072003801553534425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6072003801553534425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6072003801553534425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6072003801553534425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/friendship-icecream-duhhh.html' title='Friendship = Icecream. Duhhh'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5100644557359995362</id><published>2008-12-30T23:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T23:27:29.504-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Primitive Instincts</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;What do we do when we’ve hit rock bottom?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;We scrape up the rocks and throw them at each other,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;Instead of trying to climb up and down walls,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;We poke holes through this barrier,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;And toss over war like they’re grenades,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;When has bombing become a part of the process of restoring peace?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;In the midst of this smoke and terror,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;It’s time someone said,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;Boys and girls,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;Let’s put the guns down,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;It’s time we just talked this out.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5100644557359995362?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5100644557359995362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5100644557359995362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5100644557359995362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5100644557359995362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/primitive-instincts_30.html' title='Primitive Instincts'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5208828651615548479</id><published>2008-12-30T23:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T23:27:06.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Primitive Instincts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5208828651615548479?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5208828651615548479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5208828651615548479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5208828651615548479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5208828651615548479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/primitive-instincts.html' title='Primitive Instincts'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-5383900514667332684</id><published>2008-12-30T21:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T21:42:14.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The pressures of being a girl</title><content type='html'>It's official.&lt;div&gt;Being a girl is a full time job that you will neverrrrr get paid for. You're expected to have the beautiful hair that looks really cool if you run on the beach in slow motion. Your nails are supposed to be cut and painted with femininity. Clothes? I am soooooo not getting into that. Being a teenage girl has RULES. You never think part of being you would have rules, BUT THERE ARE! Like if you were invited to a sleepover, you have to invite those people. And extravagant gifts are a must-need if you are invited to a party/sleepover. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Secrets can't be spread.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Neither can rumors. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Keep what you think to yourself, unless it doesn't upset anybody. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just can't keep up with my gender anymore! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Switching cliques?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't think that you can get away with it with out karma being a bitch to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what more is there left to say then..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a hard knock life for us!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-5383900514667332684?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/5383900514667332684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=5383900514667332684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5383900514667332684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/5383900514667332684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/pressures-of-being-girl.html' title='The pressures of being a girl'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-4426539846017489044</id><published>2008-12-28T23:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T00:04:13.588-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MY FIRST BOOK!</title><content type='html'>ohmigod&lt;div&gt;I'm like hyperventilating.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I PUBLISHED A BOOK!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wanna read?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;http://www.lulu.com/content/5505661&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Tell me what you think!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-4426539846017489044?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/4426539846017489044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=4426539846017489044' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4426539846017489044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/4426539846017489044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-first-book.html' title='MY FIRST BOOK!'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8279012282143730319</id><published>2008-12-25T22:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T23:09:13.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Holidays! For those who can enjoy it....</title><content type='html'>Awwww.&lt;div&gt;Christmas morn. It's that special cliche moment where you open your presents as frosty the snowman plays in the back ground. Everything is moving in slow motion and your faces light up when you see you got that new iPod.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yea? WELL APPARENTLY MY PARENTS DON'T ROLL LIKE THAT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had so much fun opening my presents...alone. Then this is where lack of sleep kicks in...for everyone. My dad goes on a RAMPAGE and makes us clean the whole house. ON CHRISTMAS MORN! Dude, ohmygawd, and he didn't even give us a chance to EAT BREAKFAST!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pretty much everyone I know got a brand new shiny iPod Nano. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Are you effin serious?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's not a bad thing, but when you compare it to an iPod nano...it's not exactly the most AWESOME thing. Like you don't want to SPEND money, cause then it will be gone. But you can use an ipod over and over again like EVERYDAY!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I had to go to a boring lunch...gathering(?) where everyone spoke a foreign language. You know that sounds pretty awesome....unless you're the only kid there that speaks English. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I cooked dinner and washed dishes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is the most UNTYPICAL Christmas ever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So happy holidays to everyone and ANYONE who can enjoy it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You lucky duckssss&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't you wish you were me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MERRY CHRISTMAS!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12/25/08 THURSDAY, 9:09PM!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-8279012282143730319?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8279012282143730319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8279012282143730319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8279012282143730319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8279012282143730319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/happy-holidays-for-those-who-can-enjoy.html' title='Happy Holidays! For those who can enjoy it....'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8942440884474481016</id><published>2008-12-24T22:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T22:49:24.495-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wowwww.</title><content type='html'>This is super random, but I just wanted to TELL SOMEONE!&lt;div&gt;And since no one reads my blog, I thought I'd just put this out there...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I looked up 'cake' in the thesaurus and other words that came up were&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lump.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tablet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and BRICK?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;THAT'S SO WEIRD XD&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And apparently so am I :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Byeee my non readers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I &lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-8942440884474481016?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8942440884474481016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8942440884474481016' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8942440884474481016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8942440884474481016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/wowwww.html' title='Wowwww.'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7850363880986007104</id><published>2008-12-22T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T20:33:59.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>KARMA LIVES!</title><content type='html'>Wow.&lt;div&gt;I picked the perfect day to ride the bus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so I know you're supposed to save the front seats for the elderly, but I was tired from waiting an HOUR for the bus. I just put my stuff down and sat in the seat. I know, I know. BAD GIRL! Then halfway through the bus ride, the old guy next to me started leaning towards me, more and more...inch my inch...till like ALL of his weight was on the right side of me. I don't even know this guy! It's like he was trying to skip all the way to 2nd base ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;JUSSS KIDDING!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, it was embarrassing. The lady next to me had this mean grimace as if she was TOTALLY disgusted by 13 year olds. She had that "look" on her face for the whole bus ride. The lady across of me just spent her bus ride watching the old man lean on me, then wake up, sniffle a bit, and then fall asleep on me again. That lady laughed her ASS OFF! But I can't blame her...her ass was HUGE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So yea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bus rides suck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This just goes to show that karma DOES live. And it LIVES ON!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7850363880986007104?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7850363880986007104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7850363880986007104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7850363880986007104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7850363880986007104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/karma-lives.html' title='KARMA LIVES!'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1415909397176993176</id><published>2008-12-19T22:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T00:18:23.731-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OhMiGosh...That's So Sad! OHMIGOSH! I know right?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;OkiDoki you guys. This is like the fajillionth time I've talked about rejection on my blog. Maybe it'll be one of those traditions :/ But yea...It's so sad when no one likes you :[ The worst part is, you already KNOW you're a reject, and the sad thing is, that other people turn around and look at you and be they say, oh look, it's just another one of those Teenage Rejects.&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://th224.photobucket.com/albums/dd74/music_dudette/th_reject-2.jpg" alt="teen reject" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't you think I WANT to be pretty? Don't you think I WANT to be skinny?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Uhm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to be plastic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So bad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know it's so horrible, because it's being so cliche to think that all guys like beautiful skinny pretty nice girls. But...it doesn't sound that fake does it? I'm not sure if I would actually reach that part of my life where I'd actually say, no longer can I stand to be this fake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://th50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/J3zziKa/th_barbieicon2.gif" alt="Barbie MSN Icon" /&gt; How could you NOT want the perfect life? Wouldn't you want to be barbie and have your ken? For other people to actually WANT to be like you??? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;UGH!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I wasn't &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;REJECTED&lt;/span&gt; all the time, maybe I wouldn't think of myself like the total loser that I have myself convinced that I am. I'm so effin hard on myself, because I feel like if I'm not, I'll just let myself think that there is TOTALLY nothing wrong with me, and people would eventually like me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hahaha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You silly little girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is why you're not Doctor Barbie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I think I've gotten to that point in my lifetime of rejection, where I was actually hoping that one day, someone is gonna want me bad. And it's gonna be all their fault because they didn't want me when I wanted them. &lt;img src="http://thmg.photobucket.com/albums/v469/xsweetcalamityx/Icon%20Crazy/th_barbie.jpg" alt="barbie" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What happens when &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOU'RE&lt;/span&gt; the one who wants &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Karma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-1415909397176993176?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1415909397176993176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1415909397176993176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1415909397176993176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1415909397176993176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/ohmigoshthats-so-sad-ohmigosh-i-know.html' title='OhMiGosh...That&apos;s So Sad! OHMIGOSH! I know right?'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8706420918773103373</id><published>2008-12-16T21:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T22:11:41.048-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's Restore Peace in GirlWorld</title><content type='html'>Bummer dude. Everything is so messed up in girlworld. Everyone is like disowning their friends from last year and like being obsessed with everyone else! The worst part is, everyone feels like they can't talk their problems out with the person they're having issues with, but instead they'll talk to EVERYONE else about their issues. It's like 50% true and 50% WTF?&lt;div&gt;This is one of those typical girl issues, and guys are just like ewww lame. Girl stuff. OMG it burnsss!!!! Yea, well it burns us too. Guys will just beat on eachother till they laugh at it. Girls take everything seriously and to offense, like omg, DID YOU HEAR WHAT SHE JUST SAID? Oh no she didn't. But yes girl. YES SHE JUST DID! You know, if we just talked it out face to face like calmly and rationally, this stuffies wouldn't even happen. But noooo0o0o0o0o0, instead we gotta be all up in everyone else's grill (I'm Asian...But I like to feel like I'm not sometimes ;) and be like "WHAT DID SHE SAY? OH NO SHE DIDN'T" And then like whoever you're talking about is like right behind you and you're just like "Hiiii." *Cough* Betch *Cough*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ever so exciting girlworld.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am currently trying to restore peace, but peace is trying to bite me in the ass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So basically,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;peace can go hide in a corner and cut itself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-8706420918773103373?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8706420918773103373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8706420918773103373' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8706420918773103373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8706420918773103373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/lets-restore-peace-in-girlworld.html' title='Let&apos;s Restore Peace in GirlWorld'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-835302980488219224</id><published>2008-12-16T21:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T21:59:28.018-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SocialStudieSlam</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Welcome back you guys :] &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Alwaysss a pleasure :D&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyways, in social studies we were learning about the declaration of independence, and so our assignment was to write our on declaration of independence, declaring independence from our PARENTS!! Here it goes! (BTW: It's supposed to be a slam poem)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We have the right to be treated equally,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Everyday and more than frequently,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We have the right to speak what we say,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:202.5pt"&gt;We can speak as we want, &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And speak as we may.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We have the right to be heard when we speak,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We’re individuals and we’re all unique,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We have the right to have an opinion,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We have the right to say yes or no,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Being pressured isn’t an option,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We have the right to do or to don’t.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We have the right to be punished,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But only punished for our crimes,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In any other cases this is unjust,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And we have the right to disown your trust.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-835302980488219224?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/835302980488219224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=835302980488219224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/835302980488219224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/835302980488219224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/welcome-back-you-guys-alwaysss-pleasure.html' title='SocialStudieSlam'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-8540713090773251379</id><published>2008-12-15T22:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T22:55:04.989-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random poem...PART 2!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;With every word,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;Letter,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;Syllable that appeared on the blank screen,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;I waited. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;Words were meaningless,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;When they didn’t need to be heard,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;But you were the one who’s words meant,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;Everything.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;But the things you say…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;The words hung in the air,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;Tangled in the web of lies,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;That needed to be burned,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;So the words of truth could fall to the ground.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;But when they touched the ground,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;It burnt,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;Like ACID.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;And I’d dive into the bottomless pit of your heart,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;It seemed so depressing,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;But it wasn’t.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;It was a starless everlasting night,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;And you’d like the way,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;As we walked hand in hand through this horrific fantasy.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;The words that once hung so heavily on my heart,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;With graceful wings,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;Flew off into the grayish blue haze above us,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;But those words mean NOTHING to me….&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Arial"&gt;When they weren’t said.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-8540713090773251379?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/8540713090773251379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=8540713090773251379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8540713090773251379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/8540713090773251379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-poempart-2.html' title='Random poem...PART 2!!'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7411476280397876103</id><published>2008-12-07T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T22:39:28.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Violent Little Kids Who Adore You D;</title><content type='html'>Oh wow.&lt;div&gt;I always knew that little kids were slightly violent, but this 6 year old I know is INSANE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He throws things at people, kicks people, and he tried to CHOKE ME!!!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Geeez&lt;/span&gt;. But then I thought I would TRY reverse psychology o.O &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I held my arms open and with an irresistible face I said "Do you want a hug?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was IMMEDIATELY embarrassed like WHAT? HUG? I'M 6! I HATE HUGS! And then I let my smile drop and I muttered an "ok..." pretending to be disappointed. The next time he threw something at me, instead of yelling at him like most people do when they're upset at him, I just held my arms wide open and screamed " DO YOU WANT A HUG? "&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He squeezes his eyes while a smile crosses a face. Embarrassed, he said mumbled a yes.... I flung my arms around him and while he was embarrassed from all the parents watching in admiration, I could tell he enjoyed it. Which was HORRIFIC?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;THIS VIOLENT LITTLE 6 YEAR OLD ENJOYED MY HUG!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought "YES!" finally this kid would stop throwing things at me. But ohhh noooo, what he wanted to do to me now was WORSE. Every 3 seconds he would hold onto to the railing, bend slightly over the edge, juuusssttt enough to grab my sweatshirt and he'd like yell my name and say HUUGGGG and he'd hold his arms open. At first the plan was to make HIM embarrassed but there he was with alllll the parents watching as he BEGGED for hugs. He would start COMPLAINING about not getting hugs, until it reached a point where I'd give in and he'd cut off my circulation with his hugs. I would actually have to get his parents to grab him off of me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have found the one things less tolerable than hatred. ADMIRATION.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OHHHHH MYYYYYY GODDDDDD&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone thought he was SOOO adorable, but it was so weird for this kid to beg for hugs. This was not just some other 6 year old. It was HIM. THE 6 YEAR OLD. This is the same 6 year old that I remember had punched my face, then went to his dad and told him that I punched him. And this same 6 year old was jumping up and down screaming my name so unhappily, it was as if this little kid instead of taking his meds, took 35,000 packs of sugar. -.-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I have left to say to you readers now is....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;HELP!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And a warning...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't ever think reverse psychology works.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's like Karma, it always comes to bite you in the butt with a 6 year old D;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7411476280397876103?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7411476280397876103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7411476280397876103' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7411476280397876103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7411476280397876103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/violent-little-kids-who-adore-you-d.html' title='Violent Little Kids Who Adore You D;'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-1288568182803238557</id><published>2008-12-02T15:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T16:33:42.177-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random poem? :p</title><content type='html'>How can people not see her?&lt;div&gt;Can't you see what she's doing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those cracks on her porcelain face are spreading,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But she paints over them with dignity,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People bang their metal cups,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;against the rusty bars she locked herself behind,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her feelings are a prisoner to you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but it looks like her time will never be done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She threw the key in a river,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With every heart beat it's pushed farther and farther,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She jumps in the water and swims for her life,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But it's too late.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The key plunges over a waterfall of hatred.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The girl is furious,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chips break off her porcelain mask,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and you finally see suffrage inside,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She bangs her fists at the metal bars,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She screams at the walls in fury,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The metal cups,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;banging...taunting....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her heart tears in half and she RIPS off her mask,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her pain is RAGING,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She grabs the bars and bends them in half,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She twists the bars until the inanimate objects long to DIE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the girl lunges at her mockers,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;her enraged hurt builds, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;she reachers her breaking point,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;where the thermometer cracks,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and she slowly walks away....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's seen the damage she's caused,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and locks herself up again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Behind the bars she sits and cries.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The pain and hurt is now outside,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the outsiders put their cups down,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they walk away from the bars,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that the damage is done,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;there's no reason for them to stick around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next day there she is again,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her porcelain mask is glistening in the dark,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But no one will ever know how she feels,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If they did....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then what kind of a person would she be?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-1288568182803238557?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/1288568182803238557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=1288568182803238557' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1288568182803238557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/1288568182803238557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-poem-p.html' title='Random poem? :p'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-7392718701930208971</id><published>2008-11-30T00:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T00:23:33.851-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sneak Peek ;)</title><content type='html'>A sneak peek to my 3 paged book xD&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;Looking back to two years ago, I don’t really feel like my feelings have changed for him at all. I think I actually feel like he’s the one person that can break my heart but keep it from falling apart all at the same time. I’ve known him since 3&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt; grade. Aw, such sweet memories of 4-square and dodge-ball… I don’t even remember how we became friends, but when I think about it, I just remember hanging out with him. His jokes were always the funniest, well, maybe not the FUNNIEST, but the way he said them was funny. He was the coolest dude I knew, mostly cause he was the only guy cool enough to sport a mullet. And let me tell you, he &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;ROCKED&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; that thing. I was a fatty…but he didn’t really care. He had a mullet…so we were even.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;I remembered the way I felt when I found out he was moving. My heart was cut off its strings and the feeling of loneliness overcame me. It was hard imagining that the person I loved for 3 years could just LEAVE. And yes. I &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;LOVE&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; him. With everyday that passed, I just fell more and more in love with him. It wasn’t until he actually left that I realized that it wasn’t the kiddy love I felt for all my friends, but it was the kind of love that &lt;u&gt;hurt.&lt;/u&gt; It was the kind of love that told me that I couldn’t live without him. I didn’t want him anymore...I &lt;b&gt;NEEDED&lt;/b&gt; him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;Post Your Thoughts :]&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-7392718701930208971?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/7392718701930208971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=7392718701930208971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7392718701930208971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/7392718701930208971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/11/sneak-peek.html' title='Sneak Peek ;)'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-6811249472605517905</id><published>2008-11-17T21:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T22:02:06.172-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Average Novel? (What's a Novel!?)</title><content type='html'>Oh My God.&lt;div&gt;I am...writing a BOOK!?!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's so weird....it's like this random spastic idea just smacked me in the face. The broken lightbulb floating above my head had sparked. *Gasp* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lemme give you the long story almost short version...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once upon a time, there was this guy. This guy happened to be the coolest guy in all of RealityLand, and he was best friends with this girl, who was not the fairest of RealityLand, but rather the opposite. But this insanely cool guy didn't care how UN-awesome this girl was, he still liked being her friend anyways. UN-awesome girl fell in love with insanely cool guy but she had no chance in RealityLand. But sadly insanely cool guy MOVED? Yep, it's extremely sad. But what else can you expect from RealityLand? UN-awesome girl was sad and emailed him every day but he never replied....So UN-awesome just dreamt about him every night instead....And one day UN-awesome girl decided to write a book about her tragedy, except adding a fairytale ending...which just happens to be all her dreams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that is my long story almost short version.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aren't you just excited for the book?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I'm not, cause I deleted the draft 3 times!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I'll get past the title!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I can do it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xD&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, I'll be posting more, and sneak peeks of my book that will never get published.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-6811249472605517905?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/6811249472605517905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=6811249472605517905' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6811249472605517905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/6811249472605517905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/11/average-novel-whats-novel.html' title='The Average Novel? (What&apos;s a Novel!?)'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-973713674044179080</id><published>2008-11-12T22:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T21:56:34.298-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guys = Girls (Part 5)</title><content type='html'>Welcome back non-readers ;)&lt;div&gt;Today's lesson isn't really a lesson, it's more like....an extremely helpful hint. (P.S. most helpful hints are actual HELPFUL. HINTS.) So here's the thing, when you're in deep doody, saying something sweet will make it semi better, but if you DO something sweet than we might actually let you off the hook. Actions speak louder than words. For instance:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You go to her parent's house, and you accidentally fart. Then after you farted-you being in shock- you say DAMMIT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohhhh shizzet...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or example number 2. You cheat on her....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Examples aren't necessarily a good thing...btw.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't just be like, I'm sorry. And then pretend like she's your baby again. Try getting her flowers or be creative or something! Write her a song, make a movie about her! SOMETHING!!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And just so you guys know, being creative scores you extra points ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hope this helps!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3992462830308581942-973713674044179080?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/973713674044179080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=973713674044179080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/973713674044179080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/973713674044179080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/11/guys-girls-part-5.html' title='Guys = Girls (Part 5)'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3992462830308581942.post-3654779985288139760</id><published>2008-11-11T12:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T22:31:52.797-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guys = Girls (Part 4)</title><content type='html'>Welcome back my non readers ;)&lt;div&gt;Today is something that I think you guys are very oblivious to. The thing is that, girls don't like to wait. They don't like waiting for you guys to be like "Hey do you want to go out?". I mean it'll be worth the wait, but if you're gonna lead them on for like 3 years, I'd say that by then she's not going to be flattered at all, but actually kind of offended. And a big no-no is to let a girl like you for a looonggg time and when she's...."developed" then you ask her out. That is SUPER offending to girls, because...it just is. For some girls it takes alot of time to process the fact that you are slowly rejecting them, while others just gossip those hurt feelings out. My point is that, you can NOT lead a girl on when you know for a fact that&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt; it ain't evvvaaa happenin', &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;we are actually quite understanding (85ish% of the time). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So remember, you either like us, or not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If we've got our minds' set, why don't you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3992462830308581942-3654779985288139760?l=lunarstarsun.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/feeds/3654779985288139760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3992462830308581942&amp;postID=3654779985288139760' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3654779985288139760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3992462830308581942/posts/default/3654779985288139760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunarstarsun.blogspot.com/2008/11/guys-girls-part-4.html' title='Guys = Girls (Part 4)'/><author><name>lunarstarsun</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08725477095760214572</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lNVeX-X_9dA/SQyiEn3r4VI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uCEN-lC9yUQ/S220/Gumballs_by_Nashiil.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
