<?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-25896834</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:56:23.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emo Prayers</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114746545441689162</id><published>2006-05-12T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T13:24:14.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Paper Airplanes</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Where have you been? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I've missed you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;The days are so bright,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;and yet still so blue.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I long for the sweetness of your touch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I can't take it any longer, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;thats it i'm about to burst. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;This drug is what keeps me stronger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I don't rely that you'll come any time soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt; So i send my paper airplanes, through the moon and all the stars. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;To drag you back to the home you belong to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Where have you been? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I'm "filled with pain".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;The days are so blue &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;without any rain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;I long for the taste of your lips,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;but what do i have to go through?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;To feel you in my arms again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;These cuts are all i can do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt; I don't rely that you'll come any time soon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;So i send my paper airplanes, through the moon and all the stars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt; To drag you back to the home you belong to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25896834-114746545441689162?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114746545441689162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114746545441689162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114746545441689162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114746545441689162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/05/paper-airplanes.html' title='Paper Airplanes'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114737639461531670</id><published>2006-05-11T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T12:55:45.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anti-Sober</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/1600/01-2.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="222" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/400/01-2.0.jpg" width="262" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;My hands tremble. My lips are numb. My head is pure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Heart is racing, running,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;going to the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Need more. Need some. And it's better then,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Sex+ Violence,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;better then Love+ Peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;It's just Pure. Immaculate! Without blemish! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I love being here on my "trip". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;On my own. Not listening to the teacher, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;only hearing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;This is what i want sometime, just for myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;On my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;My ESCAPE!-------------------------I don't like drugs,Drugs like me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;And why can't i have this for myself? Why is it so wrong? Did i hurt anyone&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;physically? Would I? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;And i only wonder what i'd do for this..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Escape..Jail? Murder?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt; Sex? Theif?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;I hate that i have to work for it. I wish it would come to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;me! I wish I were this. I'd be safe- i'd be myself. With my Escape. And i don't&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ccccff;"&gt;think anyone can save me. They've tried but no, i'm too far down that hole...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;And&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;I love the feeling. And i will always have it. It will always be in me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ccffff;"&gt;because I am I.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am my own Escape!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;I am without Blemish! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;My hands are trembling. Heart is pounding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;And i hear my snake ridding the storm. And i love the feeling!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt; I love the drug.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;cstasy &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;tops &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;rying &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;nd &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;repares &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;scape.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;They make you feel so hollow. I don't know what to do now. I have no more! i&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;need more! Should i ask? i need! MORE! And i don't want anything else but that.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Jesus! ???? God! And i feel bad beacuse i don't tell my boyfriend.. But now what? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;"WAIT! There's been a slaughter here!."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I am Immaculate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;today + yesterday + before that + tomorrow &amp;amp; forever.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Should i cut? No! it's not a drug! i need more, i'm dying. I NEED KOCE!......BAD!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Is this me? Am i this? Who have i become? Am i my own drug? Where's Linda&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Marley? Gosh! i'm starting to fade.....i try to breathe...I taste Escape!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ff99;"&gt;Please don't go away! I want my nose to be cold!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;I begin to feel my lips! I am going to die! I need it to stay&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;alive. I have become two different persons. What am i doing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Am i going insane?//////////&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;OMG! I HAVE SOME,,,,THANK YOU JAH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;MY ESCAPE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Is this an addiction?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/strong&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/25896834-114737639461531670?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114737639461531670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114737639461531670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114737639461531670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114737639461531670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/05/anti-sober.html' title='Anti-Sober'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114590871388390968</id><published>2006-04-24T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T12:58:33.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To the Saved Person</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Dear Mother,RIP 2001&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Till the day I die, my sunshine you'll be"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I know in the past you were always there for me. Playing the two roles of a parent for both my brother and I, is hard work. And I thank you for doing the all and as much as you could for the both of us. You always believed in us. We trusted only in you. You gave us so much, everything that anyone could possibly have. You have been an inspration to me, all that anyone could be. I owe all the happiness of my life to you. In some way, people always tell me that i'm exactly like you and i'm proud to be the way that I am. Just like you! I just want you to know that I never hated you. I just didn't like that fact that you were gone so fast. When you left you said "never cry for me." Why did you say that to me? You taken a piece of my heart. Please leave me my tears. You know that I can never cry for you now. I feel ashamed. But thats fine with me. I hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I don't think a family could have been happier than we have been.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;---"A woman's life in a single day and in that day, her whole life."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'll see you in the next life, please remember me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;PALMS 23.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I Love You Forever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Your Only Daughter,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Veronica Asanette&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25896834-114590871388390968?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114590871388390968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114590871388390968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114590871388390968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114590871388390968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/04/to-saved-person_24.html' title='To the Saved Person'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114590700101590864</id><published>2006-04-24T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T12:30:01.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A poem for "The Lost Person"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Why did daddy go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Daddy came to me one night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;when i was very small &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and told me he must go away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and not come back at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;He told me that he'd always&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;be the daddy I loved so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;if that were true, would someone tell me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Why did daddy go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The daddy that I had always know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;would not have left me so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;To wonder what I've done to him,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;he would have stayed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;To dry my tears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;until they ceased to flow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Would someone tell me please,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Why did daddy go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Many years have passed me by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;since daddy went away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;He's never called me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;or written to explain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Sometimes I can't remember now,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;the memories come so slow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;But the question burns inside my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Why Did Daddy Go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;For someone that Lost &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and can't find &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;their way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25896834-114590700101590864?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114590700101590864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114590700101590864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114590700101590864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114590700101590864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/04/poem-for-lost-person.html' title='A poem for &quot;The Lost Person&quot;'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114530554342201395</id><published>2006-04-17T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T13:44:18.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To the Lost Person</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear Father, R.I.P 1989&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"WHO ARE YOU?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A guy who left his wife and child because they didn't fit the selfish lifestyle that you preferred? Or a guy who simply just wanted to screw around with every woman in town and have bnillons of kids all over the world? I don't know which is better. But maybe your more than that. I know in your sophisticated literary, bread delivery world people think that your a BIG deal. I thought so too until I was ten years old. You promised me that you would come home for Fathers Day. (Do you remeber?) Nad with the little money that I had I bought you a single red rose to show you all the love I had. To show you how much I wanted you back in my life. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I waited for you that day but you never came. Not even a call to say you couldn't make it. You crushed me that day and I'll take it to my grave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Maybe someday I'll write a brilliant novel and then you'll want to see me, then you'll want to know who I am. You'll tell everybody.."Oh thats my daughter." But I'll remember you. I'll remember that that Father Day the red rose died and it's been dead since then. Now a couple of years later that dead red rose hangs on a frame on my wall. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;And it's still waiting for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;And I hate you for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"There's no one to blame but you"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Your one out of many daughters,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Veronica Espinoza &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25896834-114530554342201395?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114530554342201395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114530554342201395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114530554342201395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114530554342201395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/04/to-lost-person.html' title='To the Lost Person'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114487041434765274</id><published>2006-04-12T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T13:16:00.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NO Regrets...NONE.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;They tell me that everybody has regrets. Unless their "stupid". Or inless their "perfect". Or maybe unless their lives have been so boringly "trouble-free". Or unless their a "goody two-shoes". First of all i'm not stupid or perfect. for one thing i'm not a goody two-shoes. I don't know what that really means anyway. Maybe it's somebody who's constantly happy or tirelessly helpful to everybody. Well i might seem happy all the time but, Is that really me? Thats not me. but if it means somebody who'd rather focus on the good stuff than wail about the bad, then i'll have to accept the "goody two-shoes" name tag. As for having a trouble free life, I don't. I get tired and depressed just like everyone else. I dislike even telling people this becasue their always so horrified by it, and don't know what to say to me, but oh well...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;............I WAS BORN..............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;That was the biggest most worst thing! It all just happened so fast..! haha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;But I guess everybody seemed to regret that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;There were other stuff too. My parents. My dad was always freaking out on booze for no reason(we thought). Then left us when i was turning two. My mom got sick of cancer when i was 12. So I lived with my brother for a couple of months. Now he's married and I am left alone, once again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;-----&gt; THE ONLY THING THAT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;-----&gt; CAN'T EVER CHANGE IS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;-----&gt; DEATH--THAT YOU JUST&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;-----&gt; HAVE TO LIVE WITH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;If you still have both your parents, you can't imagine how much it hurts when their not there anymore, or of how frightened you feel. I was so young, I didn't really understand. I guess I still don't. I just thought that everybody ran away from me. I kept thinking that my mother would return from her cold sleep and that my father would remember about me and come back home. Eventhough I knew they wouldn't or couldn't. Maybe abandoning your family or death is too big of a thing for anybody to really get a handle on. But when your 1 1/2 or 12 and the people you love run out on you or die, It's like being in the middle of a tornado that just won't stop ripping you apart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;-----------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Except that finally does. Finally the wind dies down and you're still standing ----&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;.MY TIME IN THE TORNADO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So you're probably wondering...Doesn't she miss her parents? Wouldn't she like to have them back?.. Of course I would, but my regrets won't accomplish that. I don't regret my time in the tornado either, it'slife, it's what i have to deal with, it's made me who im today and forever. So I say "No Regrets". I mean that there's no reason to look back in worry, wishing you could change things because it wouldn't do any good. Well I do look back sometimes with sadness in my eyes but just as often as I remember the happy and good times. And I always look to the future with hope. If you do have any regrets at all, you should stop wishing you could rearrange or change your past. It seriously is a waste of time but you should start looking forward to whatever is up ahead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"&gt;NONE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25896834-114487041434765274?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114487041434765274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114487041434765274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114487041434765274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114487041434765274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/04/no-regretsnone.html' title='NO Regrets...NONE.'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114486022396574064</id><published>2006-04-12T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T12:32:30.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ESCAPE</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I suppose there are people with no wish to escape, but they aren’t people that I know. Is this a legacy passed on to me by my father? He escape from me when I was about one year old. Or maybe from my mother who wanted everything done for and felt as if she had to rip herself away from being a single parent to both my brother and I. And I wonder only why they would want to escape from me. And now I must run too. To escape from them of course, as all children have to. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well my parents moved on to a better life. And now my brother is all grown up, married too, to a beautiful woman. So he plays the role of my father. I understand sometimes that he must escape from my always tolerant love. He said that he had to “test himself against life”. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When my mother, our mother, passed away, my brother and I never talked about it. But I felt that as if he cried for days with the bathroom door locked. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Maybe he was in his shell? But yet he seems to pretend like nothing has happened. He speaks to me again like nothing has changed. My sister-in-law, my “pretend mom”, I don’t think she likes me one bit, or at all. I don’t know what I’ve done to make her so mad or against me. I’ve messed up a couple of times. I went though some bumps in the road. But the cool thing about it though is that I learned from those mistakes. No one tells me anything anymore. No lessons to be taught. No rules to learn. They gave up on teaching me because they now know that I can learn things on my own, weather there're good or bad.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Everybody yet still pressures me into growing up, but I still haven't left my childhood behind. I need to figure everything out. EVERTHING. What it all means by myself. I need to climb mountains by myself. I'm not a baby anymore. I need to figure out who Veronica or who Ronnie is alone, my myself. I need to know my deepest fear. My blissful moment, alone.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;After i've escaped.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25896834-114486022396574064?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114486022396574064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114486022396574064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114486022396574064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114486022396574064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/04/escape.html' title='ESCAPE'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25896834.post-114478470897499255</id><published>2006-04-11T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T13:25:38.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Career?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;My Carrer Chioces&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;First I have to graduate from high school and make good grades. After that my career would be to go into the medical field. Also into the beautician field. Either way I’ll be happy with whatever I do. Don’t you just wish that you could be one thing for one week and then be something else another? Like be a doctor then a teacher and then a lawyer. I mean so life won’t get so boring.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go into the medical field because I want to be a dentist so I can fix people’s teeth. So they can have healthy smiles like mine.&lt;br /&gt;I also want to have a beautician degree so I can make other people look beautiful for when they need to go out. I mean I don’t want to look at people’s mouth all the time. So that’s why I’ll have a backup degree in case the first one doesn’t work out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I just hope i'm that smart to pull it all off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;---Veronica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25896834-114478470897499255?l=emoronnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/feeds/114478470897499255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25896834&amp;postID=114478470897499255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114478470897499255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25896834/posts/default/114478470897499255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emoronnie.blogspot.com/2006/04/career.html' title='Career?'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15938419432012691920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6855/2711/320/veronica.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
