<?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-6927276260006590759</id><updated>2011-11-25T15:43:03.559-08:00</updated><category term='harry potter'/><category term='facebook'/><category term='revenge'/><category term='blondie'/><category term='seven'/><category term='my chemical romance'/><category term='bill'/><category term='i don&apos;t love you'/><category term='vampires'/><category term='lyrics'/><category term='magical'/><category term='showers'/><category term='laughing unconrollably'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='you be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground'/><category term='picture'/><category term='movies group first entry background checks friends love flip flops district 9 the hangover'/><category term='inglorius basterds'/><category term='conversation'/><category term='aim'/><category term='powers'/><category term='disapointed'/><category term='twilight'/><category term='plain white t&apos;s'/><category term='mayday parade'/><category term='monty are i'/><category term='AFI'/><category term='special'/><title type='text'>Passionate Crime</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>103</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-7058541602727021110</id><published>2011-11-25T15:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T15:43:03.588-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My wrists are itching again.</title><content type='html'>Oh god, no.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-7058541602727021110?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/7058541602727021110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-wrists-are-itching-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7058541602727021110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7058541602727021110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-wrists-are-itching-again.html' title='My wrists are itching again.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-657100634968469139</id><published>2011-10-23T20:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T20:58:55.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm scared.</title><content type='html'>Henry, be strong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-657100634968469139?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/657100634968469139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-scared.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/657100634968469139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/657100634968469139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-scared.html' title='I&apos;m scared.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-712993753782104852</id><published>2011-08-10T14:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T14:34:36.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today, one of my best friends had sex. I went to the zoo and got ice cream with my dad.</title><content type='html'>*sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-712993753782104852?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/712993753782104852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/08/today-one-of-my-best-friends-had-sex-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/712993753782104852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/712993753782104852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/08/today-one-of-my-best-friends-had-sex-i.html' title='Today, one of my best friends had sex. I went to the zoo and got ice cream with my dad.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1452583558059023866</id><published>2011-08-07T21:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T21:08:18.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I would be smarter or a better person if I stopped trying to drown myself..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1452583558059023866?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1452583558059023866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/08/maybe-i-would-be-smarter-or-better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1452583558059023866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1452583558059023866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/08/maybe-i-would-be-smarter-or-better.html' title='Maybe I would be smarter or a better person if I stopped trying to drown myself..'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-4681707610153917857</id><published>2011-08-03T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T14:02:57.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Honestly,</title><content type='html'>I can't stand the fact that it takes you 10 minutes to respond to a text message because you're playing video games. I hate the fact that your phone always seems to be dead. It really upset me when you forgot our anniversary. I was beyond depressed when you blew me off for no good reason and didn't talk to me at all. I hate the fact that I can only see you for a couple hours once a week because you're either with your friends or you just want to play video games. It hurts that you put video games before me. You said you were going to give your all for me. I believe you. Maybe you want to give me all but you don't know how? I trust you. I'll tell you how. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a second and pause your video game to text me. Don't blow me off if we already have plans to go hang out with your friends. Mark it on your calendar to remember our aniversaries and my birthday and valentine's day. I don't ask for much from you. I just want to feel important and special to you. You say you love me. I can see it in your eyes. But would it kill you to prove it? They say actions speak louder than words... Act, Noah. You can do this, I believe in you. I love you, but love is a two way street. Please love, do something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-4681707610153917857?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/4681707610153917857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/08/honestly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4681707610153917857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4681707610153917857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/08/honestly.html' title='Honestly,'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2352725658979867319</id><published>2011-05-30T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T15:14:53.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>35 Confessions for Dylan T. Sowers</title><content type='html'>1) I check your Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, and Formspring at least 20 times a day. I'm not even following you on Twitter, Tumblr and Formspring anymore though.&lt;br /&gt;2) I have a message on my phone you left me saved. I listen to it at night when I'm crying and I miss you. It's only two words but it's still your voice saying them.&lt;br /&gt;3) I watch the video of us on my iPod every night to hear your voice, to look at you, to see the love in your eyes. It makes me me laugh when I see that we missed each other's mouth when we kissed. Fuck, I miss you!&lt;br /&gt;4) I still have your sweatshirt. When I don't wear it for awhile it smells like you again. When I found that out, I fell to the ground and started crying.&lt;br /&gt;5) I still sleep with koala you gave me on Valentine's Day and the dragon you won me at the bowling alley.&lt;br /&gt;6) Somtimes, when I really miss you, I put the necklace on the necklace you gave me. It reminds me of the good times when I was "the most important person in your life" and "the person you loved the most" and "the person you cared most about."&lt;br /&gt;7) The only reason I'm putting up with this stupid Tumblr fight is because I get to communicate with you some how.&lt;br /&gt;8) If you showed up at my door and begged me to take you back, I would in a heartbeat. Even though I say that I'd make you work your ass off.&lt;br /&gt;9) People don't understand why I'm holding on to you for so long. How do I let go of the person I gave my virginity to?&lt;br /&gt;10) I still have dreams about us being married and having children.&lt;br /&gt;11) You're the reason I cry myself to sleep every other night and want to cut myself every other day.&lt;br /&gt;12) You're the reason I don't cut. I promised you and I don't want to let you down even though you've broken all of the promises you made to me. Even the pinky promises.&lt;br /&gt;13) You confuse me so fucking much sometimes that I get headaches. I don't know what to do or where to go with you sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;14) There isn't one thing that doesn't remind me of you.&lt;br /&gt;15) I still think about you every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every week, of every month of every year. &lt;br /&gt;16) Sometimes I wish I did get pregnant when we sort of had sex. Then you'd have a reason to stay with me and I'd always have a child that reminded me of you. Whether it be little Benjamin Thomas or little Erin who we never picked out a middle name for.&lt;br /&gt;17) I hate everything goddamn thing about you but at the same time, I love every fiber of your being.&lt;br /&gt;18) I hate the fact that I still love you after everything and that you left me for Heidi.&lt;br /&gt;19) I want to pretty much destroy Heidi because she stole you from me but at the same time, I appriciate her existance because she makes you happy.&lt;br /&gt;20) I hate myself. Mostly because of the way you've made me feel. I am disgusted with myself. Truly disgusted.&lt;br /&gt;21) Part of me wants to sneak my mother's liquor or go out with my friends and get high just to get away from the pain.&lt;br /&gt;22) I want to go away. Far away. And never come back. But I know I would come back if you said you missed me.&lt;br /&gt;23) I don't want to be alive. I don't want to die either. I simply wish I had never been born.&lt;br /&gt;24) I secretly want you to feel guilty for causing me so much pain. It makes me feel like you still care about me.&lt;br /&gt;25) Death actually has been sounding better and better to me lately.&lt;br /&gt;26) What the FUCK happened to trying to be best friends?!&lt;br /&gt;27) The deciding factor of whether to join drama or not was to spend time with you. Now I want to quit to get away from you.&lt;br /&gt;28) You're stopping me from being with my friends. Sure, they're your friends too but you're hogging them which means I can't see them.&lt;br /&gt;29) I've always felt insignificant and small compared to you. You can be so mean and intimidating sometimes without even realizing it.&lt;br /&gt;30) You terrify me but you also excite me.&lt;br /&gt;31) I'd give anything to curl up on your lap, listen to your heartbeat and feel your breathing one more time with your arms wrapped around me.&lt;br /&gt;32) For me, it isn't over.&lt;br /&gt;33)&amp;nbsp;I hate you so fucking much some times that it's not even funny.&lt;br /&gt;34) I want you to stop checking up on me but I also want you to keep checking as well.&lt;br /&gt;35) Sometimes I still hope to hear little rocks hitting my window and that you're throwing them. I've always wanted you to do that. But I want you to do that, I'll sneak outside, have my guard up, ask you what you're doing here, then have you kiss me surprise. I'd act shocked and say, "Why the hell would you do that?! ...and why aren't you still doing it?" so you'd smile and kiss me again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2352725658979867319?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2352725658979867319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/35-confessions-for-dylan-t-sowers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2352725658979867319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2352725658979867319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/35-confessions-for-dylan-t-sowers.html' title='35 Confessions for Dylan T. Sowers'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5967815570385720035</id><published>2011-05-29T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-29T09:33:16.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I guess I'm at the lashing out stage. I don't want to be the bigger person right now.</title><content type='html'>Heidi's last Tumblr post about yesterday which she spent with Dylan;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Not gonna lie, pretty kick ass day yesterday; i feel careless, weightless, not a worry on my mind anymore. Well, except for the fact that im now sick.. but it was worth it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I guess thats just what i needed. Thanks for not leaving me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now i am off to a party in connecticut- this should be interesting. Lets see if i dont get harassed by immature drunk fifty year old guys today. Fireworks tonight, then who knows? Who cares? I’m finally happy."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really Heidi? You're finally happy? You took &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; happiness. Is that what made you happy? Seeing me miserable or because you have Dylan? Dylan. Dylan was &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; happiness and you took him. You're finally happy. You know what, I hope you enjoy being fed a bunch of bullshit lies that he said to me. He is going to feed you everything he fed to me. But you won't know it because he won't tell you. He'll &lt;em&gt;lie&lt;/em&gt; to you. I want to fucking tell you everything he told me. I want to warn you. But I know you'll confront Dylan about it and he'll deny everything. I really can't stand fucking either of you. I want to be the bigger person and say, "I wish nothign but the best for you two." But no, fucking no. I hate lying. Why would I say something I don't mean? I hope you two crash and burn. I want my Dylan back. I want him back. You fucking took him from me and if he told you that he broke up with me for you and you're okay with it, you are a sick, twisted, evil person. I thought you were better than this. Do you remember the text you sent me on Easter? You said you would never take Dylan from me. You also promised he would never leave me for anyone else or in general because he "adores me." You're a liar. You're a fucking liar too. I can't believe you. You actually seemed like a genuine person. I can't fucking&amp;nbsp;believe this. You know, someone in pain always looks for someone to blame when it's usually always the hurt person's fault. But&amp;nbsp;you see,&amp;nbsp;I can't see where I went wrong.&amp;nbsp;I did nothing but love Dylan and give him everything&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;could possibly give a person.&amp;nbsp;Maybe&amp;nbsp;it's Dylan's fault for being weak and falling for your&amp;nbsp;"innocent" act that&amp;nbsp;you put on by accident.&amp;nbsp;Or maybe it's your fault for doing that little act the day before&amp;nbsp;Easter, making me think&amp;nbsp;I had nothing to worry about and letting my guard down around you after you reassured me. But congratulations Heidi. You've fucking&amp;nbsp;won. You took my happiness away so you could be happy. Congratu-fucking-lations. You've fucking won.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5967815570385720035?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5967815570385720035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-guess-im-at-lashing-out-stage-i-dont.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5967815570385720035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5967815570385720035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-guess-im-at-lashing-out-stage-i-dont.html' title='I guess I&apos;m at the lashing out stage. I don&apos;t want to be the bigger person right now.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1868104297638279682</id><published>2011-05-29T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-29T09:14:32.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Je ne souhaite plus être en vie sans toi.</title><content type='html'>I don't want to be alive. I wish I had never been born. For 15 years I had been searching for my purpose. The reason for why I'm alive. Then I found it. I found &lt;em&gt;him.&lt;/em&gt; I found Dylan. But Dylan decided he didn't want to be my purpose anymore. He wanted to be Heidi's purpose. So now what do I do? What do you do when you've lost your purpose in the world? Your reason for living? Most would say, "Find a new purpose." But you see, I'm one of those people that believe that they only have one purpose for everything. And I've lost my one purpose. I don't want to live anymore. I don't want to die. I simply wish I had never been born at all. I wouldn't have to feel any pain ever. No one would have had to deal with me. There would be someone better in the world. But you want to truth? I hate myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1868104297638279682?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1868104297638279682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/je-ne-souhaite-plus-etre-en-vie-sans.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1868104297638279682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1868104297638279682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/je-ne-souhaite-plus-etre-en-vie-sans.html' title='Je ne souhaite plus être en vie sans toi.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6444115942853278655</id><published>2011-05-28T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T09:18:31.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I LOVE PEOPLE OF THE INTERNET</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RQbivXLNBmo/TeEf5SxhkXI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yJqmAau4U1U/s1600/I+LOVE+THIS+GIRL.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="410" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RQbivXLNBmo/TeEf5SxhkXI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yJqmAau4U1U/s640/I+LOVE+THIS+GIRL.png" t8="true" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I have never met this girl in my life. We've talked to each other once? She followed me on Twitter, I followed her back. I made a different account and she just found it. She discovered that Dylan and I broke up and she tweeted him xD I haven't met this girl in my entire life...I LOVE HER TO PIECES. SHE WILL BE MY NEW BEST FRIEND &amp;lt;3333 xD I seriously can't stop laughing xD Oh my God, life is beautiful xD &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6444115942853278655?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6444115942853278655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-love-people-of-internet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6444115942853278655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6444115942853278655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-love-people-of-internet.html' title='I LOVE PEOPLE OF THE INTERNET'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RQbivXLNBmo/TeEf5SxhkXI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yJqmAau4U1U/s72-c/I+LOVE+THIS+GIRL.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-8336457403105929425</id><published>2011-05-28T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T06:10:51.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from the blue notebook; Insert two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 27, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You know when you're sitting next to someone adn you know they'ere distraught? You more than anything want to say something to them. Ask if they're okay, see if there is anything you can do to make them feel better. But you can't. There is something stopping you, you know what it is but you want to desperately defy that reason. You consider writing them a note but you don;t think they'll respond. You could simply fold it up and place is on their knee. You'd watch them from the corner of your eyes as they look at the note and then at you. You think, "Open it. Open it, please just open it." But you still don't write them that note. Why? Because you're terrified. What if they look at the note, pick it up, rip it to shred and then place them in between you. Your mouth would fall open in schock and you'd stare at the pieces. You'd look at them and then start to cry. It was like&amp;nbsp;they tore up your heart. Sure, ﻿you only wrote, 'Is everything okay?' but still. They broke your heart and you're still trying to be nice to them. Why should he rip up the paper if all you've done is be nice and love them with all of your heart. What if&amp;nbsp;they just takes the note off their knee and gives it back to you? Why bother not even reading it? What if they just pretend it wasn't there? What if they get up and throw it away without even looking at it? What if, what if, what if? So you sit. You sit next to them wiggiling on the inside. Bitting your tongue not to say anything. You just want to be their friend if nothing more. You just want to console them. Bring their head to your chest and hold them. You would whisper, "Listen. Listen to my heart. It's beating for you. Feel that? Feeling my lungs working? They're breathing for you. I'm here when things get rough. By your side through thick and thin. That's what best friends do." But no. You sit in silence. Silence that's screaming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-8336457403105929425?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/8336457403105929425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-blue-notebook-insert-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8336457403105929425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8336457403105929425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-blue-notebook-insert-two.html' title='Excerpts from the blue notebook; Insert two'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5563689343182908078</id><published>2011-05-26T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-26T20:04:35.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Those probably weren't even about me but just in case they were...</title><content type='html'>I kinda feel like some kinda of evil temptress... xD So all of a sudden, my phone starts blowing up. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; *Tumblr update from Dylan&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; *Facebook status update from Dylan&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; *Twitter status update from Dylan&lt;br /&gt;I got all three text messages within a minute or two. &lt;br /&gt;The post on Tumblr said, "No. I can NOT go back. I can never go back." &lt;br /&gt;My response? &lt;em&gt;"Oh? Well... I hope he's okay...I wonder what's going on... Could this be about me? Does he think he can't go back to me? Of course he can coem back to me. He can ALWAYS come back to me..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facebook status said, "I can not go back. I won't let myself."&lt;br /&gt;My response? &lt;em&gt;"This must be bothering him a lot... *sigh* I wish I wasn't so conceded... If it is about me, why won't he let himself go back? Of course I want him back. He can come back. Please, by all means, come back!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twitter status said, "I'm not going back, I can't. I WON'T."&lt;br /&gt;My response? &lt;em&gt;"Wow, this is really, really bothering him. I want to ask him what's wrong. I want to know. I want him to be okay. I want to talk to him. I want to make him smile, make him feel better... Why won't he talk to me...? Well I guess all I can do is think like an evil, conceded seductress and think; 'Why won't you come back, Dylan? You can come back. Why won't you come back?' Wow, I hate myself sometimes..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I'm worried. I want to make sure he is okay. Ugh, he was better with me. I know, I know. He's upset and you're thinking about yourself. No. He was &lt;em&gt;happy&lt;/em&gt; with me. Everyone said he was a better person with me. Things weren't so bad when he was with me. Things were easier when he was with me. He had it all with me. The good life. But he threw it away and dove right back down, into that pit of anger, depression, and insanity becuase he thinks Heidi is worth it. Of course, I can see the allure of her. She's beautiful, funny, smart, skinny, and he's liked her for three years. I just wish that she wasn't bad, you know? I wish that she wouldn't lead him on like she is. I wish that she didn't make him feel like shit. I wish she didn't steal him from me. I wish, I wish, I wish. When do wished ever come true anyway? I've been wishing on shooting stars, eyelashes, 11:11, birthday candles and those white dandelions all my life and none of them ever come true. If they did, I would be a singer right now on stage, I would be a size 5, I would still be with Dylan, and our closest friends would be traveling the world with us on tour. I'd get along with my family, we'd have money and things would be easier. No one would feel pain, if my wishes came true. The world would be a happy place if they came true. Goddammit, why don't wishes ever fucking come true?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5563689343182908078?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5563689343182908078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/those-probably-werent-even-about-me-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5563689343182908078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5563689343182908078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/those-probably-werent-even-about-me-but.html' title='Those probably weren&apos;t even about me but just in case they were...'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6874062626493574160</id><published>2011-05-26T18:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-26T18:49:23.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quickly updating this so I don't forget...</title><content type='html'>I asked Patrick what Heidi had told him in the library because I couldn't hear him at lunch and this is exactly what the text read, "Her and dylan arnt going out and he has feelings for her and she kinda does (i think thats what she said) but she doesnt want to go out with him right now and I said just give him a chance partly so your breakup is for a reason" I'm not quite sure what is going on but I'm really glad that Patrick is keeping me updated. I had being lied to. Being honest is probably one of the best ways to score points with me. Sure, it may piss me off or upset me but I'd have so much respect for you. So, now I'll go finish my French and Health homework and sing some Adele, ADTR, and The Pretty Reckless. Then I gots to sleep. I'm leaving half way through third period to go to the beach with my mom. I even posted a picture of me in my bathing suit on Tumblr :O That's actually a big thing for me x3 I think I'll post it on here too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-odcVftRjrTI/Td8C0xpFRjI/AAAAAAAAAOY/VzIfCl7iXjk/s1600/Snapshot_20110526_12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-odcVftRjrTI/Td8C0xpFRjI/AAAAAAAAAOY/VzIfCl7iXjk/s320/Snapshot_20110526_12.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;TWO WEBSITES WITH PICTURES OF ME IN MY BATHING SUIT ON THEM?! WHOA, SHOCKING. Actually, it is for me xD This is probably the first time I've ever really felt comfortable in a bikini in my life. However, I do have to put the other two breast pads from my other bathing suit in my right cup because of my awful lopsidedness xD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6874062626493574160?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6874062626493574160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/quickly-updating-this-so-i-dont-forget.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6874062626493574160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6874062626493574160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/quickly-updating-this-so-i-dont-forget.html' title='Quickly updating this so I don&apos;t forget...'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-odcVftRjrTI/Td8C0xpFRjI/AAAAAAAAAOY/VzIfCl7iXjk/s72-c/Snapshot_20110526_12.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2399705917476488761</id><published>2011-05-26T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-26T15:43:54.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You make me wanna die.</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure what to really make of today. It wasn't good but it wasn't bad...? I don't know. I've had better day. I think I've had worse days. The bad all blend together in my head. I don't realize how shitty I felt until I'm happy again. But I won't be instantly happy, no. I'll be gradually happy, hopefully. But there is something about today that has stuck in my mind. Possibly even accidentally given me false hope. I don't know. I was sitting next to Patrick again today at lunch. Now, he likes to be involved in people's lives so he always asks about stuff with Dylan. When he does ask, I realize that I really do want to talk about things and it all comes spilling out. I don't think he minds listening. So anyway, I'm sitting next to him at lunch and he said, "So I talked to Heidi in the library last period. She doesn't like the way he's been acting lately..." Obviously interested but also unable to hear well, I turned around and faced&amp;nbsp;Patrick.&amp;nbsp;So I guess&amp;nbsp;Patrick talked to Heidi in the library and&amp;nbsp;she probably won't go out with him. Obviously, I'm excited. Part of me wants to run up to him and just scream in his face, "I TOLD YOU! I FUCKING TOLD YOU. YOU BROKE MY HEART FOR NOTHING, YOU DUMB ASS!" but the&amp;nbsp;other half of me wants to be there for him. I want to be there to comfort him and&amp;nbsp;to be that&amp;nbsp;best friend that he&amp;nbsp;needs. But I also wonder if that part of me&amp;nbsp;just wants to be there because I want him to come back to me. I dunno. I'm starting to doubt&amp;nbsp;that what Patrick said was true. I shouldn't be some hopeful. Goddammit.&amp;nbsp;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I'm starting to like The Pretty Reckless. I have two&amp;nbsp;papers to write. I'm skipping half of school tomorrow to go to the beach with my mom.&amp;nbsp;I am tired and I have to pee. I also really need iTunes money so I can buy more ADTR, Adele and Mumford&amp;nbsp;and Sons! rklgnetkubhgetubhklsut! I think I'll go pee now...&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2399705917476488761?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2399705917476488761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/you-make-me-wanna-die.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2399705917476488761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2399705917476488761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/you-make-me-wanna-die.html' title='You make me wanna die.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6175445908512082107</id><published>2011-05-26T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-26T14:07:48.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from the blue notebook; Insert one</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 26, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You know what sucks sometimes? Dreaming. In dreams, we enter a world which is entirely our own. They show us what we long for more than anything. Even the secrets that we try to keep hidden. Dreaming. It's bittersweet. You know the dreams that are the most bittersweet? The best ones. The ones that you can actually feel. They show you what you want the most. Perhaps touching his soft, pink cheeks with the furry, light orange facial hair that tickles your hand. You can feel the light fur on the places he missed shaving and it makes you smile. The smooth softness of his cheek fitting perfectly in your palm and the warmth of the pink painting his cheeks with a light blush. You can feel it. But&lt;span style="background-color: #073763;"&gt; suddenly&lt;/span&gt;, somewhere in your ﻿subconcious, you're hit with a freezing bucket of ice water and you are startled awake at 2:38 in the morning. It wasn't real. You can still feel it though. The warmth and the fuzz on your palm. It felt so real. It was like the two of you were actually in the moment. You're back together and running through the halls at department night. He's teasing you now because you're running away from him, giggling. "Come on, Lys. I thought you missed touching my face." He called while swinging himself up the stairs and out the door to the hall. You had been smiling and laughing but you stopped then, turned and made a straight face. He stopped short, only arms length away from you. You reached out and up to cup his face. The warmth, the soft skin, the scratching fuzz. Oh, so familiar but like touching for the first time. He smiled and his eyes looked triumphant, like he'd won. You smirk at him which spread into a sneaky smile. You spun around and started running away from him again. "Hey!" He yelled as he started to chase after you again. You thew your head back and your laughter sang out like bubbles escaping your lips with a smile. Your hair swinging behind you as he chases you down the hallway towards the chorus room. When you reach the end, you pause for a moment and look left and right. You decide to go right but before you could take another stop, he grabbed you from behind and pulled you into him. You squealed and laughed as he yells, "Gotcha!" and holds you close to him. You both sway back and forth, switching from foot to foot as you back up behind the left corner. He spins you around and you're both smiling. His arms around your waist and your arms around his neck. He pulls you close to him and he tilts his head down. You tilt your lips towards him &lt;span style="background-color: #073763;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; then, ever so slowly, you start closing the gap. Then finally, your two pairs of lips touch and then collide. The world around you turns to black and starts spinning. It was something like the movies. There were fireworks and then the sky changed to a sky full of stars with comets dashing across the open space. There was symphony music in your ears and then the scene changed again. You're on the beach at sunset and the water is purple. Dolphins jump out of the water and then everything went back to black. The spinning began to slow as the colors started to come back. You pull apart and you nuzzle your head under his chin. You listen to his heart beat and you feel content with life again. Then comes the ice water being thrown in your face. You roll over and stretch with a small smile. You think that you're still in the dream but it's phased to another place. You think you're going to roll over and he'll be there sleeping beside you. But no. He won't be beside you. Your eyes fly open and you're staring into blackness. The pain of reality washes over you. He doesn't love you like he did, if at all anymore. You won't touch his cheek again. You won't play with the curly scruff on his face again. You won't feel the familiar warmth. You won't kiss those soft lips again. Yet as you lay in the dark, and feel the bliss pour out of your soul, you can still feel the warm, scratchy, softness on your hand. The tingling on your lips... Even hours later you can still feel it. Bittersweet. Those dreams, you know those bittersweet dreams that you can still feel when you wake up? Yeah, they suck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6175445908512082107?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6175445908512082107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-blue-notebook-insert-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6175445908512082107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6175445908512082107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-blue-notebook-insert-one.html' title='Excerpts from the blue notebook; Insert one'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-807438577931681990</id><published>2011-05-25T15:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T15:50:00.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span lang=""&gt; "I miss my sister. Every night at ten or so she used to call me on the phone and when I asked her why, she'd tell me that her body told her she wanted to hear my voice. I miss my sister. The smell of her shampoo, the way she could always convince me to read her another book. When you love someone like I loved her, they're a part of you. It's like you're attached by this invisible teather and no matter how far away you are, you can always feel them. And now every time I reach for that teather, I know there is no one on the other end and I feel like I'm falling into nothingness. Then I rememebr Jean. I remember a life met with no enemies, no resentments, no regrets, and I'm inspired to get up out of bed and go on. I miss my sister so much. It feels like a piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more time, I want to hold her. Ten more seconds, is that too much to ask? For ten more seconds to hold her. But&amp;nbsp;I can't and I won't. And the only thing keeping me from being swallowed whole by sadness, is that Jean would kill me if I did. So for now, I'm just gonna miss her.&amp;nbsp;I love you Jeanie. Rest in peace." - Glee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to rewrite that amazing quote so it can fit my situation a bit more. It does pretty much but it's not a death that I'm dealing with. I just gotta change a few sentences and replace a few names. Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss Dylan. Every night at nine or so, he used to call me on the phone. I didn't have to ask why but I loved hearing the sound of his voice every time. I miss Dylan. The smell of his sweatshirts and the way he could always convince me to not make him go to bed for a little while longer if he was falling asleep on me. When you love someone like I loved him, they're a part of you. It's like you're attached by this invisible teather and no matter how far away you are, you can always feel them. And now, every time I reach for that teather, I know there is no one on the other end and I feel liek I'm falling into nothingness. Then I remember Dylan. I remember the late Friday nights, the silly who loves who more fights, all of our time together and I smile. Remembering helps me get up out of bed in the morning and go on. I miss Dylan so much. It feels like a piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more time I want us to hold each other. Ten more seconds, is that too much to ask? For ten more seconds to hold each other. But I can't and I won't. The only thing that is keeping me from being swallowed whole by sadness is that my friends need me and would kill me if I did. So for now, I can only miss him. I love you, Dylan. No matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah... ANYWAY. Here is a quote from a book that Victoria mentioned in health class that I was not be rewriting. It's perfect by itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The seat of love should be in liver. Heart muscle is tough. Every attempt to repair a liver opens up new wounds until it's ruined." - From the book &lt;u&gt;Animal Dreams&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like this quote. It's true, too. There isn't much to say about it. I just really like it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-807438577931681990?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/807438577931681990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/hold-your-breath-make-wish-count-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/807438577931681990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/807438577931681990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/hold-your-breath-make-wish-count-to.html' title='Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5308960619401545259</id><published>2011-05-25T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T15:33:04.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't find the right lyrics for you...</title><content type='html'>I went to see a therapist today. Her name is Amanda. There isn't much to say. She has brown hair and brown eyes I believe. She takes a lot of notes. She looks like she needs sleep. She looks like she depends on her coffee too much as well. She looks decently aged but she seems like someone that looks a lot older than they actually are. I wonder how long she's been a therapist... Maybe the years have gotten to her. Years and years of listening to people talk about their problems. She seems nice though. She isn't too judgemental. I can't tell her about what I did on May 10th though. I can't let her know, can't let her tell my mother. I don't want her to worry. I told her about May 6th though. I think she kinda views me as a whore now though. I mean, can I even count that as my first time? I sorta can... I guess... It depends on how you look at it. Yeah, I think I can. I mean, it's like having sex but having them finish in your mouth. I mean, we didn't really entirely have sex but it was enough to take my virginity I think... But I guess it all depends on how you look at it. She made a lot of noises. A lot of 'oooohhhhh's and 'aaaaaawwwwwww's and 'mmmmmm's and stuff like that. I did make her laugh a few times which is good. I'm going to see her again on the 8th. I'm definitly not as screwed up as I was a couple weeks ago or even last week. I think I have writing in my notebook to thank for that. Dylan too. The advice he gave me to always distract myself and never let myself be alone to think helped because when I think I have nothing to do-the times when I would just lay and listen to music or watch TV-I think, "You need something to do. What can you do? Dylan suggested go for a walk... You could do that tree thing he mentioned. That was kinda funny the way he said it. kinda reminded me of Dr. Doolittle when the dog was looking out the window of the car and kept saying, "Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree." That reminds me, I wanted to watch The Breakfast Club. I remember that Summer. That was a good summer..." and my thoughts go like that and then I eventually think of soemthign to do. But I haven't watched The Breakfast Club yet x3 Anyway, talking to Amanda wasn't really anything special. I mean, she didn't really give me anything to think about or give me any options on what to do. She just listened to me and made those noises and took notes. She also gave me "homework." I have to make a list of 20 things I'm good at and list a couple things I hope to improve on by going to therapy. I may post them on here. She said that Dylan was "slick" and that "he has a way with words." Nothing I didn't already know. She said Heidi was a snake and that made me laugh. I just wasn't expecting that from her x3 She also called Justin sly... Yeah xD I like the fact that she isn't just helping me with stuff like that. She's helping me with school, self acceptence, and stuff with my family too. I wasn't epecting that so much but I like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan wasn't in school today. part of me wants to call him to see how he is because I know he is sick. But I know I shouldn't... Heidi seemed fine and dandy today though. I may have unintentionally stared her down behind her back though. I'm not happy with myself for that. I'm trying to be the bigger person but I dunno. When I saw her at her locker, all I could think was, &lt;em&gt;"There she is. The girl that Dylan left me for. The girl that is better than me. The girl that took away the greatest thing that ever happened to me and in the process took the rest of me. She's the reason I don't feel whole anymore. She's the reason there isn't a light in my eyes anymore."&lt;/em&gt; But then I stopped and thought, &lt;em&gt;"Stop it, Alyssa. She didn't do those things on purpose if at all. She's not at fault and neither is Dylan. Stop blaming everything else for what's your own fault."&lt;/em&gt; Then I thought,&lt;em&gt; "But how is it my fault? All I did was love Dylan with all of my heart."&lt;/em&gt; Then I thought, &lt;em&gt;"You let your guard down. You let him slip away. You weren't enough for him. Your fault. You, you, you. Stop this you cold hearted bitch."&lt;/em&gt; You wanna know something funny though? The voice that was blaming the others was my own, but the voice that was telling me to stop and that it was my fault was Dylan's. It was like a gust of frigid winding slapping me in the face when I realized that. I was told something at lunch though.I guess there is a rumor going around that Dylan and I agreed not to see other people. I dunno. Patrick told me and asked me about it. He also said that he asked Heidi if her and Dylan were going out and she said no but he also asked Lindsey and she said, "I'm not supposed to say anything." which is pretty much a, 'Yes, but it's a secret so I can't tell you.' So that's lovely. I wish people would realize that it's best if they're honest and DON'T keep stuff from me. Just, ugh. Sometimes I &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; hate people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justin is trying to weasel his way back into my love life picture. He even went so far as to sitting next to me this morning and hogging my attention when I was clearly talking to Elena. On Wednesday, when we were ont he field trip in New York, he was clinging to me. Coming up to me every five minutes at McDonald's to talk to me, linking arms with me as we were walking from the restaurant to the bus, hugging me tightly to keep me warm, sitting on my lap on the bus when we were stopped, and then, oh and then when we were getting off the bus. When we were walking on the bus to get off at the school, he shouted my name to get my attention so I would wait for him when we got off. He called me cute as soon as we got off. Hugged me really tight and then said, "I'm stealing you," and started to practically drag me to his car. Hitch made him stop, thankfully. Hitch is a really good guy. He hugged me for at least ten minutes straight because he was warm and I was freezing. Anyway, so then Justin, Hitch and I were talking and Justin says, "They gave me some really good advice on the bus." We asked what and he said, "They said I should try dating a cute girl rather than a whore." Hitch and I laughed and I said, "And that never occured to you before?" as a joke. Then I hugged them both goodbye and got in the car. When I got in, I sat and then thought. &lt;em&gt;"Wait a second, did Justin just kiss my head?!" &lt;/em&gt;Yeah, Justin kissed my head last Wednesday. Then as I was thinking more, I made the connection of, "They told me I should try dating a cute girl," and "Alyssa, you're cute." and then I thought, &lt;em&gt;"BBBBBBAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSS. No thank you. Not again. Already went down this road, not going back. I refuse to be played again. He's gonna waste his time. Nope, nope, nope. Not for me." &lt;/em&gt;So now he keeps flirting with me and I'm like, "lolno." but we're hanging out on Saturday at his house...wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah hasn't really been talking to me lately and that's kinda upsetting me. I think I may be annoying him. I mean, all I've really been talking about to him lately is how shitty I feel about Dylan. I feel bad. I don't wanna annoy my best friend. I wanna ask him but I'm scared to. I miss him. I didn't talk to him at all today. I feel bad. :/ He probably doesn't want to hear about how shitty his best friend made his other best friend feel. Now to find a way to make it up to him... Hm... He also seems really stressed lately again... I'll ask him if somethign is up tomorrow and see how he's doing if he doesn't answer my texts. I'll apologize too. Maybe that'll help. I haven't talked to or seen Zach in awhile and I miss him too. He's a good guy. I dunno, Patrick and I were discussing having a party next weekend or something. We're inviting Zach if we end up having it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should go do my homework...yeah, I probably won't but I need some way to end this post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5308960619401545259?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5308960619401545259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-cant-find-right-lyrics-for-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5308960619401545259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5308960619401545259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-cant-find-right-lyrics-for-you.html' title='I can&apos;t find the right lyrics for you...'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1157161438339813566</id><published>2011-05-25T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T14:11:36.407-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 25, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Aren't humans supposed to pick one partner and spend the rest of their lives with them? Aren't we supposed to be like geese? Geese chose one mate and that's their love forever. Aren't humans supposed to be kinda like geese? We go through life surrounded by people that look the same. Two feet, two legs, two arms, two hands, one head, one mouth, one nose, two eyes, two ears. All pretty much the same just constructed a bit differently and painted with different colors. We swim in an ocean ful of faces. We never start ro think like geese until elementary school but even then, not really. When we get to middle school, we start &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; testing ﻿the other faces and start thinking about other geese. Some geese become interested in other geese but maybe the other goose doesn't feel the same. You have to stay a single goose. Then comes high school. You're in the prime time for experimenting and the sea is thick with love opportunities. You're a single, lonely, goose. You just want love. You know what you have to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step one; Get over that sad excuse of a goose names Tyler. [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step two; Consider other options. Noah Caron, prehaps? [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step three; Didn't work out? Maybe just get to know some other guys as friends first. How about Joe, Dylan and Justin? [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step four; Justin likes you? I guess it's a good thing you sorta like him too. Admit feelings. [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step five; Hang out with him outside of school. [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step six; Try to get him to ask you out. [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step seven; Things didn't work out? It's okay, feel a bit sad. Get over him, he wasn't anything special anyway and you guys didn't really go out. [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step eight; Try considering new guys now that you feel better. Joe and Dylan seem like nice guys that wouldn't play you like Justin. Prehaps one of them? [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step nine; Pick one of them. Who'd you chose? Dylan? Sounds good. [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Step ten; Make it all up from there as you go. [x]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You didn't have any hope for him liking you but he did. The feelings he gave you? Oh my God...they were unbelieveable. He can still give you those feelings but they're replaced by other emotions now. He's the only person that could ever make you feel the way he does. You've never had emotions feel so strong before. You had love, little goose. You found your goose. Your special face that saved you from a sea or unfriendly faces. Your goose promised you forever, marriage, children. He told you that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to him and that you saved him from the layers of hell. he was your goose. You and him were a pair of geese. You should've stayed together forever. But humans aren't like geese. Dylan left you, little goose. He left you for another goose. A better goose. You gave him everything, you poor little goose. You're alone again little goose, alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&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/6927276260006590759-1157161438339813566?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1157161438339813566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_25.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1157161438339813566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1157161438339813566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_25.html' title='Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert seven'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5361107458689260805</id><published>2011-05-24T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T15:45:33.225-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert six</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 24, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;﻿His mind:&lt;/strong&gt; Walk down the hallway. She turns the corner. "There she is..." Look away. She just looked at you. Look back. She's not looking at you anymore. Look away. Wait, she's looking at you. Look back! Ha! Caught her! Look at the misery in her face. She misses you. Smile, please just smile for me. Why'd she look away? Her lips just persed and she swallowed. Now she sighed. Dammit, she's stopping herself from crying. You could turn around... Grab her in your arms and hold her close. Protect her. Make her feel safe again. No. No, you can't. Not anymore. Plus, you need to get over her and you need to help her get over you. Didn't she say that she wanted you to talk to her to help her move on? She still loves you. She told you and you can see it in her eyes. Just go back. Turn around, tun back to her. Hold her close, cup her cheek, slowly lift her face up to yours and gently kiss those oh so familiar lips. No. Stop it, dammit. You can't do that to her, can do that to yourself, can't do that to Heidi. Heidi... I made my choice. I chose Heidi... I chose Heidi... Heidi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Her mind:&lt;/strong&gt; Turn the corner. "I wonder where Dylan is... Probably down with Heidi..." Oh! There he is. He's so cute. I miss him so much. Is he looking at me? He's looking at me. Oh, he just looked away. Stop staring at him. Wasit, is he looking at you again? Check really quick. Oh, he looked away again. He's just trying to get over you. Just like you should be so stop looking at him! He's looking at you again! Forget it, I'm staring at him. I miss those eyes, that hair, his hands, his arms, his heartbeat, his breathing, his lips... There he goes. Walking right past me again. Don't you cry, goddammit, don't you cry. You will be strong. Be strong for him. He needs to see you happy. Rememebr what he said on that Friday night? He couldn't live with himself if he hurt you. he didn't even smile at me... No offer for a high five... Nothing... Just a game of 'Look, Look Away,' as you walk right on by. Just three weeks ago he would've been waiting at your locker after class. Standing there smiling and waiting with warm, open arms. How much you would give just to have him hold you on his lap, stroke your hair, kiss your head and have him whisper in your ear, 'I love you.' How much I miss him laying on my bed, lighting up my room with a smile meant for me and sparkling blue eyes that watched me intently. I miss his presence near me and the essence of him when he's gone. Is Heidi really that much better than me? I just wasn't good enough. I'm never good enough. Always second best. Oh shut up, you winey little brat. You're only torturing yourself. Just stop thinking. Block it out. Go, go sing to Marissa. Go distract yourself from him and everything. Just, leave.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5361107458689260805?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5361107458689260805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_692.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5361107458689260805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5361107458689260805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_692.html' title='Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert six'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-4446381442400733782</id><published>2011-05-24T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T15:27:25.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert five</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 24, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Who do you think you are? You can't do this to me. Not anymore. Don't think I don't want you to. I still want you to be hung up on me. i still want you to love me. I want you to be mine again. I want you to be waiting at my locker. I want you to kiss my hand. I want you to hold me. i want you to kiss my head, my cheek, my forehead, my lips. I want you to learn another language for me. I want you to tell me you love me. I don't want you to be with anyone but me. I want you to miss me. If I can't have you, I want to be friends. But you don't want to be friends. You want to get over me. You want to be with Heidi. Why wasn't I enough? I did everything I could to make you stay but still, her allure overpowered mine. If only I could hear your heart beat for me one more time. I could feel you breathing as you take in my scent once more. A final kiss... Oh please just hold me close on your lap one more time. Let me die curled up in your arms. Let me say goodbye to the world with the sun in my heart, a smile on my face and a single tear filled with love rolling down my cheek.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-4446381442400733782?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/4446381442400733782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_4052.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4446381442400733782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4446381442400733782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_4052.html' title='Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert five'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5456045302401445428</id><published>2011-05-24T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T15:22:20.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert four</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 23, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You make me smile. You make me laugh. You're so far away but you're sitting right next to me. A hand hanging by your side that I long to grasp. Two arms that used to hold me have never looked so empty. Soft skin that holds the color pink on your cheeks, I wish to softly touch. Thick lips that were once best friends with mind, I wish to trace with my fingertips. Your eyes, so blue. Such bright blue. I had forgotten my favorite color until your brilliant blue eyes held my bland brown eyes. Orange hair that I used to play with, how I wish to tangle you in my fingers in only one last time. Beating heart and working lungs, oh how much I miss you both. your sound, your feel. Oh my god, the sound of your laugh. Say my name just one more time, whisper you love me in my ear as the last thing you ever say to me. I miss you so much it hurts. I smile, I laugh. I breathe, I hug. I joke, I touch. I live. But not like I used to. My smiles don't feel the same and my laugh only sounds right when I'm laughing with you. I breathe but I'm scared to&amp;nbsp; because I don't want to hurt anymore. No hug compares to yours and I don't cling to anyone like I did to you. I joke but I'm not funny anymore. I touch but no touch is as meaningful as yours. I live. I'm living. I'm living? I'm empty. I'm an empty girl that lives robotically because she can't remember how she lived when she had the system broken. I'm broken. My soul is gone. My heart is cracked but it's in you collection. You've taken all but my outershell. You're taken all of the good in me. I have no will to do anything. I'm surprised I'm even standing. What's that? I'm not standing straight? The only thing I have left is my voice. My singing. My music. I don't have anything but that. You have my soul, my heart, my love, my personality, my innocence and my virtue. Nothing to offer anyone else in the word. Just take what's left of me. Shrink me down to a little doll and place me on a shelf with the rest of me. I'll stay a little rag doll. A little rag doll on your shelf. A trophy in your case. Place me between the jar with my heart and the bottle with my soul. Don't forget the box with my personality. You can keep my virginity-I don't want that back. I have yours to keep. It's the only thing I ever got from you besides the best three months of my life. Put me in your closet all wrapped up with a bow. A present from me. I'm giving you myself. Keep me safe, keep me warm. Just protect my. i think that's the least you can give me. I love you. Those are my last words. It's my final goodbye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5456045302401445428?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5456045302401445428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_8712.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5456045302401445428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5456045302401445428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_8712.html' title='Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert four'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6303412816216346529</id><published>2011-05-24T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T15:03:59.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert three</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 23, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Your eyes are dead." She told me. "They were so alive. Even before Dylan. They used to have this light, this glow that was stunning. It's gone now." How are my eyes, Amber? They're dead. Dylan, they're dead. You broke my lights. You threw dirt on my shine. Scrapped off all of my sparkles. I'm nothing but a shell. An empty, broken shell of a girl that used to dazzle. The tears fall in streams to wash away the dust that has coated me in such thick layers. They don't work though. Do you care? Do you? You don't anymore. I wonder if you ever did... Did you use me? As some play toy or distraction until Heidi was ready? Or just to get sex out of me? Was that all you wanted? You chose some unsuspecting freshman who wanted love so badly. You fed her these lies of wanting to get married to her, having children, saying she's the best thing that ever happened to you, saying she saved you from the layers of hell, telling her you want to spend the rest of your life with her. Empty promises. Manipulating lies. you never waited for me outside of the lunch room on Mondays but you wait for Heidi. She's better, I get it. I just wasn't good enough. Wasn't skinny enough, wasn't pretty enough, wasn't funny enough, wasn't smart enough, I wasn't...I just wasn't good enough. I wish I was. More than anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6303412816216346529?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6303412816216346529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_1082.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6303412816216346529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6303412816216346529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_1082.html' title='Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert three'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1360127269609102130</id><published>2011-05-24T14:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T14:48:15.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;May 23, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insanity, sweet insanity. Come take me home. Wrap me in familiarity. Chains that suffocate tied with an anchor at the end. Throw me in the ocean and let the bubbles coat me. Maybe I'll take the knife you stabbed in my back and lacerated my heart with and finish the job you started. A warm pool of thick red has never looked so inviting. Maybe a rope around my neck to take the place of the necklace my love gave me. But instead of the pendent hanging, I'll be hovering about the ground. Insanity, dear insanity. You used to hate me so. You stayed away from me and I blocked you out of my soul. You attacked my friends while trying to get to me it seems wwhich only made me hate you more. Insanity, oh insanity. Why do you want to be my friend now? You're clinging to me. You're choking me. Killing me from the inside out. Insanity, fucking insanity. I want my soul back. I want my life back. I want myself back. I want my everything back. I want me back. Insanity, insanity. Just take me away. Insanity, insanity. Kill me now while you have the chance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1360127269609102130?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1360127269609102130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1360127269609102130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1360127269609102130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert_24.html' title='Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert two'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-8412369805434520899</id><published>2011-05-24T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T14:40:28.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert one</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;May 23, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Everywhere I look, I see fire. Trees in flames, burning to black branches that fall to gray toned ashes. People I know or not are engulfed in flames in my eyes. I can hear their screams and see them running but no result. I see myself in a reflection. White eyes, fangs and claws I never noticed before. I feel like there is this demon inside of me just itching to get out. He's begging me to slit my wrists to let his own hands free. He wants to peel the layers of my skin off and toss them to the ground. I may look the same and maybe even sound the same but this white eyed beast is me. the screams give me pleasure and the ashes, as evil grin. set everything on fire, flames left and right. I'll walk out the school door with a sinister laugh and you'll greet mee with a smirk. You and I, Dylan. Setting the world in flames. We'd clasp hands and the fires around us would roar. People would emerge from behind the trees with eyes and teeth like outs. Devil's children. Evil's demons. Hell's minions. Call us what you will. We'll set this world in flames and watch it turn to ash. Noah as our right hand man and Sarah ranking next. Insanity never looked so good. Hell, you're my new home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-8412369805434520899?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/8412369805434520899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8412369805434520899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8412369805434520899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/excerpts-from-purple-notebook-insert.html' title='Excerpts from a purple notebook; Insert one'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3591425586481188254</id><published>2011-05-22T19:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T19:36:27.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep in mind,</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;YOU&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; threw me away. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;NOT&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; the other way around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3591425586481188254?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3591425586481188254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/keep-in-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3591425586481188254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3591425586481188254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/keep-in-mind.html' title='Keep in mind,'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5429086797501346522</id><published>2011-05-22T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T18:57:55.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The sweetest things said to me in weeks.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sarah; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Alyssa; --Definition-- the kind of girl who still manages to find a way to smile; the one that you'll see walking down the hallway, having her head up high, trying just one last tiime; the kind of girl that will get back up, each and everytime she falls...the kind of girl who never gives up." Urban dictionary really knows you. &amp;lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amber;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'd text you, but i don't want to wake you darling &amp;lt;3 I love you so very much, always remember that. There is nothing i can say, honestly. I can't put it into words. Not even one of my hugs will help you heal, huh? I know you'd say "It's ok that you don't know what to say" But it isn't. not one bit. I take peoples pain. Like how I take Sarahanne's pain, i'll take your pain. As much as i possibly can, so you can hurt less. I just want you to not be hurting, not be sad. Your eyes are dead, i noticed that. They were so alive, even before Dylan. You had this glow, the light in your eyes was stunning. It's been darkened though. I still see the glow, but it's hidden. You've shielded it. I just want you to smile. A real smile. Not those fake ones i do all the time. I'm the expert at fake smiles girly, it's pretty hard to fool me. I want my Alyssa back. Stop pretending for me, it just makes it sadder. I'm sorry i'm writing this at 2am in your ask box but i just had to, especially after reading that. I know you're depressed to that extent but it just hit me harder seeing it all laid out there...I love you so so much. and it breaks my heart that i could loose you. He shouldn't have that power over you. A few words from him, and i could loose you. We both know how similar we are, and i can't loose someone who is more like my twin than my actual twin is. I'd loose a big part of myself. I want at least some of my friends to be happy, and babe, you used to always be that light at the end of the tunnel for me. Don't get dimmed :/ I need you to guide my way &amp;lt;3 "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I actually feel a bit of an emotion that I thought left again when I read these. I feel a bit...loved. Cared for. Worried about. I almost started crying when I read both of these. To know that someone still cares about me. They have no idea how much these meant to me. I love them both. They are my best friends. I could never thank them enough for just dealing with me. &amp;lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5429086797501346522?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5429086797501346522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/sweetest-things-said-to-me-in-weeks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5429086797501346522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5429086797501346522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/sweetest-things-said-to-me-in-weeks.html' title='The sweetest things said to me in weeks.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3882508204157851572</id><published>2011-05-21T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T22:17:06.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you remember?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Q3kVjFHOek/TdWaYJXqT1I/AAAAAAAAAMU/mV8bYqv8GHE/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Q3kVjFHOek/TdWaYJXqT1I/AAAAAAAAAMU/mV8bYqv8GHE/s400/Snapshot_20110519_19.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Do you remember giving me Thomas for Valentine's Day and the card I spent two hours on writing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--_5b1X-LpCg/TdWauRBGUKI/AAAAAAAAAMY/H-FC0QWVG1w/s1600/betgai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="222" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--_5b1X-LpCg/TdWauRBGUKI/AAAAAAAAAMY/H-FC0QWVG1w/s640/betgai.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tsQhh6gOPy8/TdWbNRd1NLI/AAAAAAAAAMc/kxBdvQvZ1I4/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_32.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tsQhh6gOPy8/TdWbNRd1NLI/AAAAAAAAAMc/kxBdvQvZ1I4/s400/Snapshot_20110519_32.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;﻿Do you remember the first time you came over? And how we sat on my floor watching The Notebook and during it you kissed me for the first time? Do you remember how at dinner you wanted me to tell my mom that we had finally kissed because you found it amusing that she kept pestering me about if we had? How about how you actually had to teach me how to kiss because I didn't know how? And how we laid on my bed for hours just talking and I listened to your heartbeat and felt your breathing-not know that those would become two of the best feelings in the world for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-alhDQu_foBY/TdWcfJtg6II/AAAAAAAAAMg/lVB-VVoBFrk/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-alhDQu_foBY/TdWcfJtg6II/AAAAAAAAAMg/lVB-VVoBFrk/s400/Snapshot_20110519_24.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How about when you gave me your gray sweatshirt? I refused to take it off. Eventually you gave me your other gray sweatshirt, and then the black one, and then the red one which I still have. It doesn't smell like you anymore but I put it on and I think, "His arms were in these sleves once," and it's the closest I will ever get to you holding me ever again and that's why I haven't given it back to you yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-klp6bZFrHv8/TdWdEGiJ0RI/AAAAAAAAAMk/CCPRALHi5G8/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-klp6bZFrHv8/TdWdEGiJ0RI/AAAAAAAAAMk/CCPRALHi5G8/s400/Snapshot_20110519_18.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do you remember this necklace? The necklace you gave me when we stayed after for department night after facing out first hurdle. You told me, "This necklace has a story behind it," "Oh, really? What is it?" "Well, Lisie sent it to me the day after we broke up. I called her and I said, 'I think you sent this to me before we broke up.' She said, 'No, I sent that to you the day we broke up.' That really confused me so all I could say was, 'Oh?' She said, 'Yeah. I want you to give it to the person you care most about. But there is a twist, you can never take that necklace back.' And I told her last night, I said, 'Elise, I'm going to give the necklace to Alyssa.' because you, Alyssa, are the person I care most about and I never want to lose you. I love you." "I love you too. And you never will lose me. I'm not going anywhere." Is all I said back and then we hugged tightly and kissed. Remember how Aaron came around the corner then and we laughed because he was like, 'Oh! So sorry! Didn't mean to interupt, you guys continue, my bad.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DqxwkrJLS3E/TdWhPlLm2xI/AAAAAAAAAMo/qFCJ_-oxYmM/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DqxwkrJLS3E/TdWhPlLm2xI/AAAAAAAAAMo/qFCJ_-oxYmM/s400/Snapshot_20110519_15.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do you remember this tin and what was inside? The CDs, the note, and the picture. Do you even remember the signifigance of the date you wrote on the front? '2-14-11'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x2rAOvFKVkU/TdWhk9GVdBI/AAAAAAAAAMs/hu_4kDY_qdA/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x2rAOvFKVkU/TdWhk9GVdBI/AAAAAAAAAMs/hu_4kDY_qdA/s400/Snapshot_20110519_14.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The four CDs that you made me that were in the tin filled with songs that remind you of me. Do you remember all of those songs? Do they still make you think of me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g9Satf4r73s/TdWz9-5QcmI/AAAAAAAAAMw/vfc2PWZ51WY/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g9Satf4r73s/TdWz9-5QcmI/AAAAAAAAAMw/vfc2PWZ51WY/s400/Snapshot_20110519_16.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Remember this picture you gave me? You gave it to me because you wanted me to know that "there was at one time a normal Dylan." You took it in New York. You've always wanted to be a photographer but your hands shake too much so it makes it impossible. You took this years ago, when you were at peace. I asked you why give you something that held so much value for you. Your response? "That image is forever imprinted in my head and I want you to have it. You're the most important person in my life and I love you. Why would I not want you to have it?" I had never felt so loved in my entire life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YY2lEznurWg/TdW-3X2KYDI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0SCJkD2C2z4/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YY2lEznurWg/TdW-3X2KYDI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0SCJkD2C2z4/s400/Snapshot_20110519_12.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What it says; "Alyssa Pagl&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;aro, you are a&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;azin&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;g&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, I just want y&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;u to know that&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; thi&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;k the world of you. I don't know where to be&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;g&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;in, bu&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I have t&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; say so&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;ething, so I'm le&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;ving a message &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;ight on this pape&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;ou're prett&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; smart s&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I'm s&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;u&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;re you'll get it." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do you remember writing this note and promising to marry me? How about the first time you called me Mrs. Sowers? How you said you were going to ask me to marry you one day with a diamond ring while we were laying under the stars in each other's arms?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3cuW43t6aFI/Tdbd-9DkazI/AAAAAAAAAM4/HwUABUqoCfk/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_13.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3cuW43t6aFI/Tdbd-9DkazI/AAAAAAAAAM4/HwUABUqoCfk/s400/Snapshot_20110519_13.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Remember this note you wrote me after I wrote you about 10 pages of notes in 2 days because you were home sick? You wrote about the surprise you had planned and how I wouldn't let you buy my ticket for the dance. I didn't have a reason for why you couldn't or didn't want you to, I just didn't think I was worth you spending the money on. We never ended up going. You came over instead and under the stars we slow danced to Savin' Me by Nickleback. It was one of the greatest moments of my entire life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUP798Dvp2Q/TdfxjYh24DI/AAAAAAAAANQ/6x_gekputjs/s1600/Snapshot_20110305_4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUP798Dvp2Q/TdfxjYh24DI/AAAAAAAAANQ/6x_gekputjs/s200/Snapshot_20110305_4.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHvk1Ql-hLA/Tdfwqvs-5pI/AAAAAAAAANM/lPmTd_l7sdU/s1600/Snapshot_20110305_27.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHvk1Ql-hLA/Tdfwqvs-5pI/AAAAAAAAANM/lPmTd_l7sdU/s200/Snapshot_20110305_27.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Srqtv-6GBjU/TdfdKuULHPI/AAAAAAAAANE/N2QZNLAY1p8/s1600/Snapshot_20110305_17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Srqtv-6GBjU/TdfdKuULHPI/AAAAAAAAANE/N2QZNLAY1p8/s200/Snapshot_20110305_17.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Do you remember these pictures? Do you remember all of them? Do you remember watching Bleach on my lap top? Do you remmeber how you told me that you were thinking about going to Mount St. Charles next year for school and I cried because I didn't want you to leave. I had shown you a Pokemon thing that I've had since I was little earlier. You had been holding me on my bed while I was crying. You left me, went in my drawer and got the Pokemon thing. You sat me up and told me to call heads or tails. I didn't answer so you chose for me while I kept asking you what you were doing. You flipped the Pokemon thing and when it landed, you picked it up, looked at me and said, "Well I guess it looks like I'm staying at Scituate." I didn't know what to say but I was to happy and excited so I just kind of tackled you and started kissing you. Remember that? Do you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6rx7jFhDTd8/Tdgi_a8uiWI/AAAAAAAAANU/ZfxXvV9fzXQ/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_31.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6rx7jFhDTd8/Tdgi_a8uiWI/AAAAAAAAANU/ZfxXvV9fzXQ/s400/Snapshot_20110519_31.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Do you remember how everytime you came over, you would play with my ukulele? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c1xF5PMBCJ0/TdgneifqJMI/AAAAAAAAANc/yYfcmi_xOPw/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_36.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c1xF5PMBCJ0/TdgneifqJMI/AAAAAAAAANc/yYfcmi_xOPw/s320/Snapshot_20110519_36.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C_zefdzvIgM/TdglshBihyI/AAAAAAAAANY/MOMuLm2FmSo/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C_zefdzvIgM/TdglshBihyI/AAAAAAAAANY/MOMuLm2FmSo/s320/Snapshot_20110519_17.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Do you remember the day we went to Semi? We had select right after school but we were just meeting to listen to our performance. When we got there, you had to borrow my phone to call your dad&amp;nbsp;while I ran an errand with Sarahanne. When we were listening to the CD we sat on the risers together and I held you hand and laid on you as well as Sarahanne, Amber and Alissa. When select was over, we both left with our dads. I didn't notice that you had been behind us the entire time until you called my cell phone from your dad's. It took at least 3-4 hours for me to get ready but actually, it took be 10 minutes to get my dress, heels, and jewelery on. My hair and makeup took up the rest of the time. My dad and our family friend Donna took a bunch of pictures of me for my mom who was in Florida while we waited for you. When you showed up, your little brother, James, was with you and although James made me smile, he also kind of made me feel a bit more awkward. My sister had put so much makeup on me that I felt fake and my hair was huge and so curly that I kind of looked like a poodle. You had flowers with you and you didn't know how to give them and I didn't know how to take them so that was an awkwardly funny scene while everyone laughed at us. Trying to pin the flower to your shirt was also another awkwardly funny experince for us. That took a good five minutes. Our fathers took pictures of us and then I said goodbye to my dad and Donna and out the door we were to the dance. The car ride was awkward but funny but it was only awkward because that was the first time I had met your dad and I was terrified because I wanted him to like me. We got to the dance a half hour late but it didn't matter. We got our picture taken and we slow danced and we had fun. It was one of the greatest nights of my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gjomj8f_wXk/Tdh-ktIRyfI/AAAAAAAAANs/JTXftmJ_8ms/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_33.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gjomj8f_wXk/Tdh-ktIRyfI/AAAAAAAAANs/JTXftmJ_8ms/s400/Snapshot_20110519_33.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Do you rememebr when we were at Ashley's mom's boyfriend's house for a party? I had another party to go to before Ashley's but when I showed up there was you, Zach, Ashley, Brandon, Elena, Devon, Elaine, Domenic and Arianna. I put my stuff down and then came and curled up on your lap next to Zach. We were watching this movie and you kept complaing because you hate it. I said it was raining outside because you had promised to kiss me in the rain. So i asked Ashely and we all went outside. We made a huge fire and burned furniture. You kissed me in the rain but you kept leaving me. You kept going and hoarsing around with Devon and Brandon and left me alone. I didn't like it. Not at all. I sat and watched Ashley and Anthony and thought, "We came out here so we could kiss in the rain. Why does he keep leaving me?" I was sad. It made me upset. Zach stayed by my side and when we thought that the spring were going to shot off, Zach came and stood in front of me. When ashes were falling from the sky, Zach covered my head. He protected me even from the harmless stuff while you were with the guys. As thankful as I was for Zach doing that, I wished it was you. You were my boyfriend after all. Zach was just being a good friend to both of us. When you walked by me, he grabbed you and pulled you to me. I told you that it was bothering me that you weren't spending a lot of time with me and you apologized. When we went back inside, we were all wet and I changed into my pajamas and laid with you in the chair. You talked guitars with Brandon while I just sat there with you. I didn't mind just sitting there. As long as I got to be with you. We all played our own game of truth or dare mashed with spin the bottle later on. I never did get to hear what dares you had in store for me although I would probably attempt to beat you up if I heard them but laugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tP9KiNe7OH0/Tdg0t_8cDzI/AAAAAAAAANk/pcYeX7_RZ7k/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tP9KiNe7OH0/Tdg0t_8cDzI/AAAAAAAAANk/pcYeX7_RZ7k/s400/006.JPG" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Remember the day after semi? You came over and we were home alone for a little bit. I really loved the times when we were home alone. Not for the privacy and the privilages, but because each time it made me think, "This is what it's going to be like when we get married one day. This is the feeling of us being alone and happy together." My dad came and picked us up to go to Rachel's house for a campfire. When we got there, you played guitar with Brandon and Devon while Rachel and I sat and girl talked. When Aaron got there, we set up the trampoline and that was just crazy. You hoarsed around with Aaron, Devon, Brandon and Ryan while Rachel and I took pictures and videos. It was a good night, a very good night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4v4N3YEjxiM/Tdgz60r9ZNI/AAAAAAAAANg/SceyIxzRtuM/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_21.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4v4N3YEjxiM/Tdgz60r9ZNI/AAAAAAAAANg/SceyIxzRtuM/s400/Snapshot_20110519_21.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Remember Flicker? Do you remember the day you gave him to me? It was a Wednesday, the Wednesday after we got into our first fight. The Monday we got into the fight, I was miserable. I cried on and off the entire day and the entire day after that.&amp;nbsp;I even cried on Wednesday morning before my sister came to pick me up because I was terrified. When she was cutting my hair, she kept yelling at me to sit still because I kept bouncing because I was nervous as the time approached. When she pulled up to the bowling alley and I saw Patrick and heard him scream, "Alyssa's here!" I wanted to smile but I was terrfied. I walked in the door and there you were and all the bad feelings faded away. I pulled you outside so you could talk to my sister and I saw you holding the dragon behind your back. I knew it was for me but I pretended I hadn't saw anything. When we went back inside, I hugged Patrick, Noah, Zach and then I turned to you. You held out the dragon and I started to smile. I looked at the dragon, up at you and repeated that a couple times before taking it. I fell into your arms and then I clasped your hand as we stood and waited for Cassie adn Clare. We talked about the fight a little bit and how I had been taking it and it made you a bit upset. I was talking to Josh about things too and was just talking to Noah. I noticed no one was really paying attention to Patrick so I felt bad but I didn't really pay attention to anyone on the other team. I was easily the worst bolwer out of everyone there but every time I came back from my turn you would wrap your arms around my waist, kiss me, and take me down from the ledge. I looked forward to each time my turn was over just for that moment. When we were done bowling, everyone bought food and played some of the games. You came over after, remember? We talked about the fight and we worked everything out. Then we were eating dinner. Remember how you made that joke about Lisie? How she said that she was going to marry you. I got so mad at you I almost smashed a bowl over your head. Hell, the only thing that stopped me was that my mom would get mad and I would hate hurting you. I ended up crying but we talked everything out again. The thought of losing you to one of the two girls that I was worried about losing you to the entire relationship? Heartbreaking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HeEBmWudt3c/Tdh7E9fVY8I/AAAAAAAAANo/BFq065OoNm4/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HeEBmWudt3c/Tdh7E9fVY8I/AAAAAAAAANo/BFq065OoNm4/s400/Snapshot_20110519_20.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Do you remember giving me this pillow? You had gone to Six Flags on the Friday after the bowling alley with Henry. Henry sent me a picture of you holding it but all I could see was you holding something pink. Remember why you had to give me this on Easter rather than the Saturday before when we were supposed to hang out? Your mom wouldn't give you a ride to my house because we were spending the entire day together the next day. I wish you had told me that rather than saying, "I have a lot of stuff to do." You ended up still going over Heidi's though. And this is where things got bad. You went over Heidi's. You and I both know what happened there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3F39anmsMKw/TdiT2edT3VI/AAAAAAAAAN0/S530vI-lOAA/s1600/Snapshot_20110519_40.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3F39anmsMKw/TdiT2edT3VI/AAAAAAAAAN0/S530vI-lOAA/s400/Snapshot_20110519_40.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Do you remember me? The girl that didn't look like this picture. Yes, that's still me on the outside. But the inside? I don't recognize her anymore. She's different. Do you remember that girl? Do you? I miss you. So goddamn fucking much. The story of why we broke up? It kills me. It's killing me. I remember us. I remember happy. I remember you. We're strangers to each other again. Happiness? It's foreign to me. I remember you, but you're different. You've become this different person. Do you remember how you felt the first time you and Heidi tried to be together? The depression? The insanity? The anger? You said that I "saved you from the layers of hell" but you dove straight back into it willingly. I can't save you this time. You don't want me to. I'm sick of fucking crying. Sick of always fucking wanting to punch something. I'm sick of not being able to sleep because my mind keeps playing and playing the best damn 3 months of my fucking life right before my eyes. I'm sick of not being able to eat without almost throwing up. I can't live, I can't function without you, you see? I can't anymore. You promised me forever. I gave you everything.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; EVERYTHING&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Dylan, I gave you everything. There is not one of my firsts that you don't have. You pushed me down and now you just keep kicking me. You won't even give me a chance to get up. What happened to trying to be best friends? Do you just not care enough anymore? Why did you stop talking to me? Was I just some play toy for you, some distraction, until Heidi was finally ready? Does she know that you left me for her? Was everything that Josh told me the truth? Are you happy with yourself, Dylan? To see me miserable. To see me on the verge of insanity but keeping everything hidden enough so that no one can really see how screwed up I feel but you? Are you happy with yourself? I get it. You've liked, or been in love with, Heidi for three years. Three years trumps three months. But you just don't even give a shit about me? Nothing about me is special to you at all&amp;nbsp;is it? You want me gone. You want me to disappear. Do you want me dead? I've told you this before; if killing myself would make you happy, I'd overdose without a second thought. Crazy? I think I am becoming. Overly dramatic? Probably.&amp;nbsp;I'd just appriciate if you&amp;nbsp;were nice to me when&amp;nbsp;I need you most. Oh, what does it even matter? You&amp;nbsp;don't care.&amp;nbsp;Not anymore if you ever did at all. I guess this is goodbye. You&amp;nbsp;probably hate me and never want to speak to me again for reasons that have still yet to be brought to my attention.&amp;nbsp;Well then I only have&amp;nbsp;a few more things to say.&amp;nbsp;I hope&amp;nbsp;things work&amp;nbsp;out, I hope you're happy, I&amp;nbsp;miss you, I love you, and goodbye. &amp;lt;3&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3882508204157851572?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3882508204157851572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/do-you-remember.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3882508204157851572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3882508204157851572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/do-you-remember.html' title='Do you remember?'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Q3kVjFHOek/TdWaYJXqT1I/AAAAAAAAAMU/mV8bYqv8GHE/s72-c/Snapshot_20110519_19.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-631882062287418287</id><published>2011-05-17T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T19:00:08.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a perfect asshole.</title><content type='html'>Dylan Thomas Sowers, you're not the man I fell in love with. You've changed since you've broken up with me and you're a complete asshole. I don't know who you are anymore. But you threw away everything because you didn't want to lose your chance with Heidi. She's gonna hurt you again. Good job. You fucking just probably ruined your high school life. Hell, you could've just ruined your life in general. I could've been the one. Smooth. Real smooth. So what's that? You've lost Noah and Josh. You let go of&amp;nbsp;"The love of your life. The girl you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The greatest thing that ever happened to. The girl you wanted to marry. The girl you wanted to have children with. The girl you loved." We tried being best friends but it looks like all in all, you've lost 3 best friends and one of them could very well be the love of your life. You're a fucking asshole. You never loved me in the first goddamn place.You lying sack of shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-631882062287418287?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/631882062287418287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/what-perfect-asshole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/631882062287418287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/631882062287418287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/what-perfect-asshole.html' title='What a perfect asshole.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3164873228572169845</id><published>2011-05-11T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T13:29:48.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JBGELBATLUBHSYJUKS</title><content type='html'>So, Dylan and I broke up on Monday night. I'm fucking miserable. I feel like shit. I cut on Tuesday for the first time ever. We're trying to be best friends but we're torturing ourselves. I promised him I would never cut again. When I thought of a lupol that he thought of at the same time. "Wait, we're changing the promise. Alyssa, promise me you will never do anything to harm yourself ever again." I can't break a promise to him. I miss him so fucking much it hurts. I cut because the tears wouldn't come out. Now the tears are and I need two people. Dylan and my best friend. I can't go to Dylan with this. My best friend's phone is broken so i can't call him. I can't be left alone. I was earlier and I cried the entire time. "It's hardest at night and when you're alone to think." My dad told me. He's so fucking right. This is killing me. Being his friend is torture but it's nice. It's better than nothing and that's why it's nice. I feel whole with him. I feel right, I feel safe. We still love each other but we can't be together until he gets his problems settled but it's making both of us miserable. He is depressed and so am I. We can't be apart but we can't be together. I'm fucking scared out of my mind that he is gonna end up with Heidi. He can't, he's still mine, it's only been a couple days. Did he really love me? Does he love me like he says he still loves me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3164873228572169845?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3164873228572169845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/jbgelbatlubhsyjuks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3164873228572169845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3164873228572169845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/05/jbgelbatlubhsyjuks.html' title='JBGELBATLUBHSYJUKS'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-8086365260952780826</id><published>2011-04-13T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T18:55:53.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I just want to be alone.</title><content type='html'>I don't understand myself right now. I want to be alone right now but I'm usually always begging for my friend's attention because they usually don't give a damn. This website is the only onet hat none of my friends know about. I had Twitter all to myself. Dylan made one. I did have Tumblr for a bit. Amber, Alissa, Cassie, Clare, Ashley, Dylan, Ellen, Heidi, Justin, Henry, Rylee, and Tyler. Admittedly, some had them before me. But still. None of them followed me and I didn't follow them. Once they all found me I followed them but now I can't post anything on there anymore without being ridiculed abotu if a post is about them or if I'm okay. Facebook is facebook. If you got a facebook for privacy-you're dumb. But I just have no where to be alone. No where to post so I can get my feelings out there and not keep it all bottled up to the point where I explode. No where but here. Unless Dylan finds it because he knows I have one or if Rylee decides to check here which she hasn't in years. But still,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-8086365260952780826?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/8086365260952780826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-just-want-to-be-alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8086365260952780826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8086365260952780826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-just-want-to-be-alone.html' title='I just want to be alone.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5717701617353645804</id><published>2011-03-14T18:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T16:45:39.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-n-tVxttkTXs/TX7A59s-vqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/BHF4BO4CB4I/s1600/183143_1570669154166_1458613838_31176139_3573122_n%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-n-tVxttkTXs/TX7A59s-vqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/BHF4BO4CB4I/s320/183143_1570669154166_1458613838_31176139_3573122_n%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Happy one month Dylan. I love you. In a month you've become my world.&amp;nbsp;&amp;lt;3 2.14.11&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/87OTb3LdWso" title="YouTube video player" width="480"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5717701617353645804?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5717701617353645804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/03/one-month.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5717701617353645804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5717701617353645804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/03/one-month.html' title='One Month'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-n-tVxttkTXs/TX7A59s-vqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/BHF4BO4CB4I/s72-c/183143_1570669154166_1458613838_31176139_3573122_n%255B1%255D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1972808919896780942</id><published>2011-03-12T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T14:47:23.054-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh.</title><content type='html'>It's obvious that you still love your exgirlfriend. Stop lying to me. Forever my ass you cunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evidence;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 1) Always talking about her&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 2) Always on the phone with her&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 3) You had a dream about having sex with her after we hung out&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 4) You gave me a necklace she gave you-when you look at it, it reminds you of her.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 5) You had phone sex with her. Two weeks ago. You pretty much cheated on me.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 6) You want me to come with you when you visit her for a week over the summer. You let it slip that I was coming to make sure nothing bad will happen and you actually do cheat on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1972808919896780942?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1972808919896780942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/03/oh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1972808919896780942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1972808919896780942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/03/oh.html' title='Oh.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1244442696973862884</id><published>2011-03-06T07:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T07:44:57.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love him so much that I can barley fathom it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0T4wkbTQuDw/TXOmjOi9EUI/AAAAAAAAAKk/Zo6v7tI3Juc/s1600/Snapshot_20110305_17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0T4wkbTQuDw/TXOmjOi9EUI/AAAAAAAAAKk/Zo6v7tI3Juc/s320/Snapshot_20110305_17.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;He's so cute :3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Sv3cQ25Usig/TXOmwzCq5YI/AAAAAAAAAKo/LpYVJRk1JaE/s1600/Snapshot_20110305_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Sv3cQ25Usig/TXOmwzCq5YI/AAAAAAAAAKo/LpYVJRk1JaE/s320/Snapshot_20110305_1.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DqrsnB6mXRg/TXOpOTSjgsI/AAAAAAAAAMI/j44HWabd8ZY/s1600/Snapshot_20110305_42.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DqrsnB6mXRg/TXOpOTSjgsI/AAAAAAAAAMI/j44HWabd8ZY/s320/Snapshot_20110305_42.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-k85h6lJTxAA/TXOpTQlRgBI/AAAAAAAAAMM/w2r5JHyACOs/s1600/Snapshot_20110305_43.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-k85h6lJTxAA/TXOpTQlRgBI/AAAAAAAAAMM/w2r5JHyACOs/s320/Snapshot_20110305_43.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1244442696973862884?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1244442696973862884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-love-him-so-much-that-i-can-barley.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1244442696973862884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1244442696973862884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-love-him-so-much-that-i-can-barley.html' title='I love him so much that I can barley fathom it'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0T4wkbTQuDw/TXOmjOi9EUI/AAAAAAAAAKk/Zo6v7tI3Juc/s72-c/Snapshot_20110305_17.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3314036410395511535</id><published>2011-02-21T22:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T22:48:19.305-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Next time you say you love me more, remember that you stopped fighting to prove it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message" id="msg_1483413489_undefined"&gt;Dylan: So, how did you enjoy yesterday?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Bahahahaha, yesh I did. &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":3" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -320px 0px;" /&gt; And you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: Extremely so,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: teehee &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;^_^&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt="^_^" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -240px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: I'm glad you've gotten better at being aggressive. Quite surprised actually, &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":)" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Bahahaha, I can't help it when you touch the spot &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":P" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -32px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: I'll keep that in mind. &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":)" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Hey, be careful you &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":P" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -32px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: Of course love, I've never been more carfeul.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: I love you &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":]" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3Ha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3 &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 x123456789098764345678987654&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 x9761094867528866186658918175754&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 x&amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 xiloveyoumoresoyoucan'twin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 xwellthatsnottruebecauseiloveyoumoresothere&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 xnahiknowiloveyoumorethanyouloveme&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 xwellthatsjustnotpossiblebecauseiloveyoumorethananythingintheentirehistoryofforever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 xiloveyoumorethaneverythingandeveryoneintheentireuniverse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 xwellthatsaproblembecauseiloveyoumorethantheuniverseitself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 xthatsfunnybecausetheuniverseismadeupofabunchofthingsandiloveyoumorethanallofthemsoiloveyoumorethingsthanyouwhichmeansihavethecapabilityoflovingmorethereforeiloveyoumoreandialsoloveyoumorethanhowmuchihopeallofthatmadesense.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 xiknowiloveyoumorebecausethatactuallymadesenseandevenifyouhadthecapabilityoflovingmemoreitdoesntmatterbecauseiloveyouwaymorethanallofthosethingsatthesametimesotheretoobadtheresnowayyoucanlovememorethaniloveyoubecauseyourethemostbeautifulgirlintheentireworld.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 xlooksshouldntdefinehowmuchyoulovethatsjustmoreproofthatiloveyoumorethantheuniverseandallofwhatsinitandhowmuchyouloveme.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3 xwelliloveyousomuchiwouldwatchthenotebook1234567876543467897654345678timeseventhoughidontlikeitjustbecauseiwouldbewithyou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3 xwebarleyevenwatchedthenotebooksoyoucanteventellifyoulikeditornotandplusidontmatterwhatwedoaslongasispendeverymomentofmytimewithyoubecausethatisoneofthethingsilovemostaboutushoweasyitisforustojustbetogetherandhownothingelseintheworldmatterswhenimwithyouitsalljustbackgroundnoisebecauseyourewhatmattersmost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Well then I guess we're just going to have to spend as much time as we can together, because I'm never going to get tird of you love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Sounds like a pretty good plan to me. &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":]" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt; &lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: My dad's going to like you. And he better, But even if he doesn't. Tough shit. Because I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: And that's all that matters. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan:&amp;nbsp;Yup, But I want my parents to know you, I want them to know why I wake up every morning and smile. I want them to know who makes me feel so alive. I want them to know why I'm motivated to do good in school, and I want them to know who I want to spend every minute of my life with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: I'll help you show them, I promise because you're the reason that I wake up considerably early on weekends to go on facebook and wait for you to come on. even if I talk to you for 5 minutes it means to much to me. You're the reason that I've been so happy lately and why I haven't been fighting with my mom lately. How when I go to sleep, I always little romantic scenerios for us in hopes that I'll dream of it that night. I've barely let go of Thomas sense you gave it to me and I feel like we're going to last a long time. That means so much to me and it gives me hope. Everything you say to me just makes me speechless and I question everything I say half the time because I don't want to say something wrong. I smile at the randomest of times because I'll think of some of the things you've said. Today alone I've smiled so much just thinking of last night. Everytime you kissed me my mind just spun and went blank. My heart was racing and my breathing when we were just sitting was a little uneven. I can picture our future together and thinking about it earlier today I could picture it so perfect. It made me so happy that I almost fell to the floor because I just could barly take it. I really really love you Dylan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Well that's good, because I layed down last night and just thought about you and the time we had last night. Zach told me that I smelled like a girl, and I just smiled because I knew it was you. I could still taste your lips every time I smiled, and as soon as I realized that I just couldn't stop smiling. I'm glad your family likes me and I love you so much Alyssa, I'm glad they know it. And I can't imagine anything in my life without you in it. I can't wait until the next time we see each other and I'm glad your mom lets us be alone, even if we have to keep the door open. Being around you makes me happy, just thinking about you makes me happy, when I hold your hand I feel strong, I feel like I can protect you. When I hold you I know that you're mine, and I'm yours. And when I kiss you, my mind goes blank and I can't help but smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: I don't even know what to say, but because you've made me speechless again. If there was a way that I could just show you how much I love you, you could see that I love you even more than I'm able to tell you with words. I've never had trouble telling anyone how I feel and what I love about them but when it comes to you, I just can't. You're just perfect. You're amazing. You're just so...I can't even find the right word to describle how completely wonderful you are and how much I adore you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I'm on the verge of tears again because I'm just so happy.&amp;nbsp; I haven't felt so content with my life sense I was small and and that's nothing compared to how happy you make me. I really hope we never end because I don't think anyone else could ever make me feel the way you do and I could never feel the way I do about you for someone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Well, that's good. Because this won't ever end. I love you Alyssa. &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":)" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt; &lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: I love you too Dylan &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":]" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: I'll talk to you tomorrow?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: Of course &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":]" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Sweet dreams love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: You too :]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Night,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Goodnight &amp;lt;3.&lt;/div&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/6927276260006590759-3314036410395511535?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3314036410395511535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/next-time-you-say-you-love-me-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3314036410395511535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3314036410395511535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/next-time-you-say-you-love-me-more.html' title='Next time you say you love me more, remember that you stopped fighting to prove it'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3787070358444033374</id><published>2011-02-15T15:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T15:25:48.572-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Every single damn word he says, I just :]</title><content type='html'>*after select, early this morning, walking to our lockers*&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: You know, in the car this morning, my mom was like, "Dylan, you have a girlfriend now, you need to comb your hair!" and then pulled out a random comb and made me brush it in the car. &lt;br /&gt;Me: *laughs* I like your mom.&lt;br /&gt;_____________________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;*in the hallway at school, he's walking me to my class, Brandi walks up*&lt;br /&gt;Brandi: So I hear you have a boyfriend...&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: I'm right here!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Walk away, walk away, walk away!!!&lt;br /&gt;____________________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;*at my locker, about to walk to the buses*&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: May I? *holds out his hand*&lt;br /&gt;Me: Of course. *takes his hand and smiles up at him*&lt;br /&gt;____________________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;*facebook chat*&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: Hey cutie,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: teehee &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":3" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -320px 0px;" /&gt; hiiiiiiiii&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: Just felt like stopping in and reminding you how absolutely amazing you are before I go to drama. &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":P" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -32px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Aw &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":D" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -48px 0px;" /&gt; thank you, and you're even more amazing &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;&lt;div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message" id="msg_1483413489_undefined"&gt;Dylan: Psh, simply not possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: Nahhh, I think so &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":P" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -32px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Hold on, let me try this out. Dylan &amp;gt; Alyssa Enter. SYNTAX ERROR. SIMPLY NOT POSSIBLE. ///END SCRIPT/// Nope, see, not possible. Just gonna have to accept that you're way more awesome and that I love you, &amp;lt;3.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Mmmm, I think I can still disagree with that! :P And you're just going to have to accept that you're just, beyond amazing, and that you're adorable, and that i love you too &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Mmmm, nope. But, gotta go. Love you babe, &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Yeahh :P alright, i love you too &amp;lt;3 have fun in drama :]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Bye, :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Bbbyyyeee :]&lt;/div&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/6927276260006590759-3787070358444033374?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3787070358444033374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/every-single-damn-word-he-says-i-just.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3787070358444033374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3787070358444033374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/every-single-damn-word-he-says-i-just.html' title='Every single damn word he says, I just :]'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6298817738830282613</id><published>2011-02-14T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T17:19:13.718-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In exchange for a card and a koala</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I wrote in Dylan's card;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;Dear Dylan, happy Valentine's Day. First off, sorry for my terrible hand writing and lack of a decent pen. Blah. So, when you asked me about purple and said that it was cute, I panicked and thought, "WHAT IF HE GOT ME A PRESENT AND I HAVE NOTHING?! D:" I couldn't let that happen. so, because of my lack of job and a car, I can't really go out and buy you anything right now so jrgjberibgaeriugtuaie. So, I remembered I had this card kit from years ago and I figured, what the hell? So, now, as I sit at 12:11am, now officially February 13, 2011, I'm writing you this little note. So, to start this, I'll warn you. I'm not so great at writing out my feelings for guys that i like. But you're different. So, when I first saw you, I was in 6th or 7th grade and I was there for rec basketball. I remember thinking, "why is he wearing converse instead of basketball sneakers?" A lot has changed in a few years. That first time I saw you, or the first time we ever talked, if i was asked if I would ever think we would be where we stand today, I would've never said yes. Not for any reason but that I didn't know you and I was pretty much obsessed with this other kid. He hurt me, badly. Scar 1 of why I'm scared of love. Then a friend of ours; he came, made me fall, practically cheated on me, scar 2. That's why i'm pretty scared of love. I've been hurt so badly before. But you know all this. Why am I telling you again? Because you fixed me. You come into my life as a friend and then yeah, here we are. I had started to think that I may like you a week or two before you told me you liked me. Then on the Friday before you told me, I had decided that I did like you. Then on Monday, we talked after school and such. I texted Cassie a 5 page long text of just "OMG" repeatedly. And then on Tuesday when you gave me tht really long hug. Nicole and Aileen, who were standing there, we're all like "WHAT WAS THAT?!" and I just giggled. And then Wednesday when you wrote on my formspring, I knew it was you. I smiled so much and was so happy. Then Thursday when you asked to walk me to my class, I was all bgibgiuripgbaeugh inside. Then Friday. ^_^ When you said those sweet things to me on Facebook, I almost started crying. No one had ever said something so amazing, so sincere to me before that for a minute, I got scared that I was just being played again. I had never felt like I actually meant so much to someone before, ever. Not even to my friends or my family. And then today, well I'll write Saturday cause it's technically Sunday, I again almost started crying from happiness. In the dream, I was sort fo your hero. The girl who saved you from yourself. You and I have both been hurt badly so many times. We both know what it's like to feel practically helpless. (I assume for you) and now we have each other. Two people who well, we are what we are. I never would have thought I'd ever fall in love with you. But you're incredible. You're amazing. You're the sweetest, most honest, nicest guy I've ever met. You're so many words that I can't string together in enough sentences to fint in the space left. You're truely remarkable. You mena so much to me and I really hope you know that. you are the most beautiful guy I have ever met. I love you, Dylan. I truely do. As much as it scares me, I'm trusting you with my heart. And hey, remember; you break it, you buy it ;D x3 I dunno, I saw it online and thought it was funny :3 So, as I sit here, at 1:53 am, February 13, 2011, I want you to know that I love you and you mean so much to me. Love, Alyssa. ♥ :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What Dylan gave me;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WudUGGcqRL8/TVnUURIw5VI/AAAAAAAAAKA/5uRdxoZrvD4/s1600/Snapshot_20110214_5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WudUGGcqRL8/TVnUURIw5VI/AAAAAAAAAKA/5uRdxoZrvD4/s400/Snapshot_20110214_5.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6298817738830282613?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6298817738830282613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/in-exchange-for-card-and-koala.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6298817738830282613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6298817738830282613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/in-exchange-for-card-and-koala.html' title='In exchange for a card and a koala'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WudUGGcqRL8/TVnUURIw5VI/AAAAAAAAAKA/5uRdxoZrvD4/s72-c/Snapshot_20110214_5.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3472745563945658180</id><published>2011-02-14T16:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T16:30:18.697-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My very first valentine :3</title><content type='html'>*after reading my card that I spent two hours working on*&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Me: &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: I just.... iawhgliwhga:)&lt;br /&gt;Me: I was hoping for that reaction :3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message" id="msg_1483413489_undefined"&gt;Dylan: Well, I'm here, and I have absolutely no intention of hurting you, ever. I'm here for you when you're ready. I understand how scary it can be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: Hmm, there's a little something I forgot to add in the card, you see. So, would you prefer I just tell you now or should I make you wait a little bit longer? &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=";)" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -80px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: NUUUUUUUUUU D: I could call you, so you could say it in person if you wanted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message" id="msg_1483413489_undefined"&gt;Me: Hmmmmm... Mmm, well actualy, I should just tell you on here because if you called me, I'd get all nervous and flustered. Plus, I have no service at Amber's house&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: Baww, okie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Well, see, I realized in first period that I meant to add that whenever I see you, I start shaking and get all nervous. And then what I wanted to add but didn't have the room was to say that, with you I feel safe. And I believe every word you say when you tell me you love me and when you say sweet things to me. And also, I trust you more than I've ever trusted any guy. And believe me, when I tell you I love you, I do. And I am ready &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Alyssa Jade Pagliaro, will you be my valentine?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Of course Dylan Thomas Sowers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: moisehgoiuaeghoiseghsepoigsssssssssssss &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: pmggnehtgautbpiuhtjihgieutabifugbefg &amp;lt;3 Amber's yelling at me because I keep flailing and squeaking x3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Well, she's stupid. :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: lmfao xD i agrrreee :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: The card smells like you, :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: lol reallyy? :3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Mhm, I'm hanging it up. :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Awwwww! :D &amp;lt;3 I haven't let go of the koala sense we were at my locker :3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: :) &amp;lt;3&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/6927276260006590759-3472745563945658180?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3472745563945658180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-very-first-valentine-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3472745563945658180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3472745563945658180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-very-first-valentine-3.html' title='My very first valentine :3'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5936182049104951670</id><published>2011-02-13T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T00:19:31.467-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I may be in love</title><content type='html'>Dylan: Hey, do you like purple?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yessss :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do you ask?&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: Psh, can't tell you.&lt;br /&gt;Me: O.O You should at least give me a hint. :P&lt;br /&gt;Dylan; Okay, It's cute. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message" id="msg_1483413489_undefined"&gt;Me: fgngefbegaijgtj &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":P" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -32px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;&lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;Dylan: :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":D" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -48px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: Neh! &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":P" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -32px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;______________________________________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Still trying to figure it out?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: YEEESSSSS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;&lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;Dylan: :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":)" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":P" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: -32px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;_______________________________________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: You're beautiful, you know. &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: and you're amazing, you know. &amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: I love you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: I love you too&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: I dreamed about you last night. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: omg really? :3 What happened?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Well, I was in a room, there was no furniture, and I sat there miserable, and I looked out the one barred window at the world around me and all I saw were the people that I had either screwed over or made miserable in general, and they all just walked past without me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: Aw :[&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: And then I sat down, and started crying, and I cried for a long time, but finally, the door opened and you were standing in the doorway before you finally just looked at me and said, "You can come out now." And then I realized that the door was unlocked the whole time, and there was nobody stopping me from leaving, I was in there on my own will, I guess I just didn't want to come out because of what I'd done to people, I couldn't go back to all that. But you were there, and I guess, I guess that made it all okay. Because with you there, I knew it was all going to be okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Me: I love you, Dylan. I'm never going to hurt you. And if I ever do, it won't be intentional. I'll always be here if you need me and if there comes a time when our feelings fade, I'll never stop being your friend. No matter what, I promise.&amp;lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: I know Alyssa, that's just it, I know that. And considering all the trust issues I've had with people, I think it's amazing. And I love you too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;_____________________________________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;Dylan: Hey Alyssa? &lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: Yess :]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161745_1483413489_946240_q.jpg" title="Dylan Sowers" width="1" /&gt;Dylan: I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&lt;img class="uiProfilePhoto profilePhoto uiProfilePhotoMedium img" height="1" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/161533_1458613838_8186071_q.jpg" title="You" width="1" /&gt;Me: I love you too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="mhs mbs pts fbChatConvItem pts fbChatMessageGroup clearfix small"&gt;So yeah, I just spent 2ish hours pouring my heart out on a card for him for Valentine's Day because I didn't have enough money to go out and buy him something. Blah.&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/6927276260006590759-5936182049104951670?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5936182049104951670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-think-i-may-be-in-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5936182049104951670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5936182049104951670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-think-i-may-be-in-love.html' title='I think I may be in love'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-658565763441699547</id><published>2011-02-11T21:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T21:39:22.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just wanted to save these somewhere :3</title><content type='html'>Dylan:&amp;nbsp; You remember that message you sent me on Tumblr a long time ago that said "Don't hate yourself Dylan, I love yourself."?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yesss&lt;br /&gt;Dylan: Well, I DID answer it. But,It's still there .And every time I try to delete it, it comes back. I permanently have a (1) next to my messages .But, every time I see it, it makes me happy. You see Alyssa, you make me happy, and you don't even know it. &amp;lt;3.&lt;br /&gt;_____________________________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;Dylan:&amp;nbsp;YOU MAKE ME LISTEN TO HAPPY MUSIC. &lt;span class="emote_text"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img alt=":)" class="emote_img" src="http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif" style="background-position: 0px 0px;" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;By the way, you'll find that the most emotional things I say to you probably won't make any sense to you. I never listen to happy music anymore. But I've been listening to the Foo Fighters and the White Stripes since I got home. And I can't stop thinking about this really cute girl that I know. I just can't get her out of my head. She's beautiful, and she smiles all the time. She doesn't talk a lot, and when she does, it's usually very quiet, but it's one of the things I love most about her, because it makes everything she says that much more important.&lt;br /&gt;_____________________________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He may not be the best looking guy around or have the best reputation cause he's kinda odd. But he's sweet and he loves me. I'm still really scared of getting hurt again but I think it's possible that I could really fall&amp;nbsp;in love with this guy. Yeah, that thought scares me to death. But I don't understand how I became this way. I used to be so fearless when it came to love. I think I know what happened though. Being cheated on kinda changes a person. So, fuck you Justin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-658565763441699547?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/658565763441699547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/just-wanted-to-save-these-somewhere-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/658565763441699547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/658565763441699547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/just-wanted-to-save-these-somewhere-3.html' title='Just wanted to save these somewhere :3'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2172921070268477929</id><published>2011-02-10T19:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T19:49:39.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>4 to 5 months later...</title><content type='html'>So, a lot has changed sense my last post. I'm different in a lot of ways. For example;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) No more Tyler. If I refer to him again, it will be because I'm actually friends with him again (BAHAHAHAHAHA) or I say something like "pulling a fucking Tyler..." blah blah. Done with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) New age. New year. New friends. Old friends. New guys. New scars. Fading memories. I'm now 15, I'm trying to live my life better this year, I have some new friends and some old friends I'm losing and then gaining some back. New guys...self explaintary. New scars...blame the new boys. Fading memories...I'm moving on from my past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) My posts will be pretty different from now on I suppose. I mean, no one really reads this but still. I like this other website WAY better than any other website and it's a type of blog. But some things I just can't post on there because, well, I'll explain that another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, I just wanted to quickly say this so I can do my homework and remember how to use this website. Oh, and happy February.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2172921070268477929?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2172921070268477929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/4-to-5-months-later.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2172921070268477929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2172921070268477929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2011/02/4-to-5-months-later.html' title='4 to 5 months later...'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6905342523986101110</id><published>2010-08-30T22:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T22:29:10.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You can choke on your misery.</title><content type='html'>I'm so done with this bullshit. I hate it when people say 'I'm done.' but I just can't help it. I'm done with Tyler and his fucking arrogance. I need to get over him. Has it really taken me 21 fucking months to realize that? How thick can I be? I'm done with that 'friend' that talks shit to me every single fucking chance she gets. Acts like a bitch to me when I tell her the truth about how I feel about Tyler. You know what? They deserve each other. They're both arrogant, self centered, bullshitting pieces of shit that I really don't understand why I tolerate or even love him, or am 'best friends' with her. Maybe I'm just so pissed right now that I'm using angry talk. I don't know. But right now, I'm about to murder someone and start bawling my eyes out. High school hasn't even started yet and the drama is already fucking started. What the hell, fuck this bullshit. I'm done. D-o-n-e, done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a slightly//possibly more positive note, here were my goals for the summer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;[x] Get a boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Have my first kiss.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Successfully finish writing a science fiction story.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Fulfill New Year's Resolution.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Be texted by him first&lt;br /&gt;[x] Throw a pool party.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Successfully finish writing a teen-romance story.&lt;br /&gt;[x] See Eclipse in theaters opening week.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Learn to play the ukulele.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Go fishing&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Have 20 followers.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Go to a pool party.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Do something with the group.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Go to a concert.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Give a hobo a cheeseburger.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Wish on a shooting star.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Get in a fight.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Get an iPod touch.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Learn how to play guitar.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Watch a meteor shower.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Go to the village at least 10 times.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Start a band.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Read 30 books.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Get him to be my friend again.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Pierce a body part that is not my ear&lt;br /&gt;[x] Dance like a maniac with 5 people watching&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Find my purpose in the world.&lt;br /&gt;[ &amp;nbsp;] Learn how to play bass&lt;br /&gt;11 out of 27 accomplished&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;School starts in a couple days so I guess I'll post my school goals then. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6905342523986101110?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6905342523986101110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/08/you-can-choke-on-your-misery.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6905342523986101110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6905342523986101110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/08/you-can-choke-on-your-misery.html' title='You can choke on your misery.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-4301423676175504198</id><published>2010-08-14T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T13:20:52.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She's ripping wings off of butterflies</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile. Well life has gone no where really. Everything is the same as how I left it. It seems to never change for me. People leave me, come back and I take them under my wing. They treat me badly and I turn the other cheek. Still nothing in my love life and I kind of like it but at the same time, I'm hating it. I debating on giving up on boys at my school and just focusing on celebrities. I mean if you don't know them, they can't break your heart nearly as bad. Right? I don't know... I just feel so weird right now. I don't get it. I gots to watch the meteor shower tonight so I can make wishes! D: "Can we pretend that meteors in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now." lol, wow I just made a really bad joke xD Well anyway, I'm gonna go and be lame somewhere else :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-4301423676175504198?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/4301423676175504198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/08/shes-ripping-wings-off-of-butterflies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4301423676175504198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4301423676175504198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/08/shes-ripping-wings-off-of-butterflies.html' title='She&apos;s ripping wings off of butterflies'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-22204524648837516</id><published>2010-05-05T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T19:22:30.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I'm a real big fan of yours but I'm quite the joke to you"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-Im_k36U5I/AAAAAAAAAHA/O24sOaGrr4A/s1600/Here+Is+Your+Sir.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-Im_k36U5I/AAAAAAAAAHA/O24sOaGrr4A/s200/Here+Is+Your+Sir.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467975771253003154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Texting conversations with Tyler that are so rare, that I have to save them somewhere;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Hey, are you okay?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*hour later*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tyler: Hey&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Hiii&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: whats upp&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: watching Kevin do skateboard tricks at the gazebo. You?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: nothin i got suspended and alc&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Awwww that sucks :[ when?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: tomaro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Awww :[ can you still go to the dance?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: no&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: :[&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: *no response*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(a little whiles later)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-InKlWtzNI/AAAAAAAAAHI/hr2NCtRdRk4/s1600/This+Was+Yesterday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-InKlWtzNI/AAAAAAAAAHI/hr2NCtRdRk4/s200/This+Was+Yesterday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467975960360766674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Can you tell me why you got suspended or will you get in more trouble?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: the jim flynn thing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: What jim thing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: its a long story&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I've got time...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: i cant spread it tho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I won't tell I promiseee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: *no response*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(five minutes later;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Are you still there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(half hour later)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: You don't have to tell me Tyler, really. It's okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(10 minutes later)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: did we have hw tn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yeah, pages 107 - 110 answer 1-5&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ty: *no response*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-Infb53PTI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/XFeLEj8y_cM/s1600/Wow,+who%27s+that+seductive+beast%3F.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-Infb53PTI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/XFeLEj8y_cM/s200/Wow,+who%27s+that+seductive+beast%3F.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467976318601084210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;^^ Tyler ^^&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-22204524648837516?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/22204524648837516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-real-big-fan-of-yours-but-im-quite.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/22204524648837516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/22204524648837516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-real-big-fan-of-yours-but-im-quite.html' title='&quot;I&apos;m a real big fan of yours but I&apos;m quite the joke to you&quot;'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-Im_k36U5I/AAAAAAAAAHA/O24sOaGrr4A/s72-c/Here+Is+Your+Sir.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-869835553444335836</id><published>2010-05-05T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T19:23:16.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my love for texting is growing and burning fiercely :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-IhV5OsxhI/AAAAAAAAAGw/rMHqRiJ9v2Y/s1600/GEDC0082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-IhV5OsxhI/AAAAAAAAAGw/rMHqRiJ9v2Y/s200/GEDC0082.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467969557604648466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;^^ Rylee ^^&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Messages from Rylee that I don't want to delete but must so I save them on here before I delete them;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yeah and I get a smile out of that. None locked from Vanessa, which pretty much floaded his inbox, but there was like 3 or 4 locked ones from you, which I didn't bother reading. One of them was the 'I won't I promiseee' one, that's about all I got. And apparently today in math: "No one should be mean to Alyssa, I mean she's like the nicest person ever" and in the village: "For some reason, Alyssa knows everything about me" "Doesn't surprise me" "Oh, I know she likes me" "And does the fact that she likes you and that she knows like everything about you weird you out? "No it's cool, she's cool..." Yeah boi. Me and Talon were rotf."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You really need a new phone. I made sure it was sent. You and Vanessa are the only people Tyler texts, is what I said."&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/6927276260006590759-869835553444335836?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/869835553444335836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-love-for-texting-is-growing-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/869835553444335836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/869835553444335836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-love-for-texting-is-growing-and.html' title='my love for texting is growing and burning fiercely :D'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/S-IhV5OsxhI/AAAAAAAAAGw/rMHqRiJ9v2Y/s72-c/GEDC0082.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6050768775149049595</id><published>2010-05-05T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T08:05:51.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rawr</title><content type='html'>*sigh* i stayed home today and feel stupid for it. My allergies are going off the wall and I woke up this morning and they decided to suffocate me. Yet that was this morning at about 630. it's 1053 right now and all i really need is to blow my nose. I feel so stupid for staying home and I  had this feeling but less intense last night. I'm not even sure if it is the feeling of stupidity but I just feel like gnawing that is eating at me and it is making so many words want to bubble out of me. I don't want to talk to anyone today because I'm afraid I'l say somethign stupid and somethign that should not be said. like if I saw Tyler today, I have a feeling I would tell him everything and also that if I saw someone who looked bad today, I would say it right to their face or if someone said something stupid or lied and i knew the truth, then I would blurt that out and get in some deep shit. Every so often I get this pang in my stomach and it makes me want to curl up in a ball and just scream bloody murder. I feel so stupid too. It is stupidity and something else. I can't write everything on here and why I feel so stupid and stuff because I don't really trust this blog as my journal anymore. I do have a paper one but it is like falling apart so I'll write it in there. *sish* I hope the suspension is for tomorrow instead. You don't understand that, but I figured I'd add it anywat...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6050768775149049595?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6050768775149049595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/05/rawr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6050768775149049595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6050768775149049595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/05/rawr.html' title='rawr'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2243223839573470489</id><published>2010-04-24T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T21:27:51.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"It's like a small gerbal!"</title><content type='html'>Wow, I haven't been on here in forever. Nothing has really been happening. I went to Florida, family drama happened but that feels like such a long time ago now. Went back to school for two days and got my work and did whatever. Then, Spring Break happened. All week all I have been doing is hanging out with friends. I mean yeah, it's always awesome to spend time with your friends but when you haven't been home for a week, you are already stressed out and your allergies are beginning to act up, all you really want to do is stay in your pajamas all day. On Friday (4.16.10) I saw Kick-Ass and it was just an amazing movie. One of the best I've seen in a long time. I'm like obsessed with it now. &lt;a href="http://www.lahiguera.net/cinemania/actores/aaron_johnson/fotos/6980/aaron_johnson.jpg"&gt;Aaron Johnson&lt;/a&gt; (click the name to see his picture) is my favorite teen actor and I'm following the girl who plays &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/ChloeGMoretz"&gt;Hit Girl on Twitter.&lt;/a&gt; (click 'hit girl on twitter' to see her twitter) Then we went to Denny's and it was night and let me tell you, there are some pretty weird people at Denny's at night. First off, there were three major dorks (brutally true statement) and they kept eating french fries and pancakes and also, all they talked about was penis and boobs. I wanted to slap them and if my dad hadn't made me sit on the inside, I would have. But also, as we were leaving there was this big group of college kids heading in and they were so fake. The girls were all skinny and had their boobs hanging out of their "clothes" and the guys had their hair spiked up straight and were wearing tight shirts, sunglasses (at night?!) and swim suit bottoms with sandals. My dad and brother were like, "wow, they must be douches" so then I go, "and there goes Jersey Shore." My brother and dad laughed so hard that we were sitting in the parking lot for awhile until they could breathe. They really did look like &lt;a href="http://stevekokx.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/alg_jersey_shore_mtv.jpg"&gt;these people.&lt;/a&gt; (click 'these people' to see the cast of Jersey Shore). Okay, so thn Saturday Brittany and I hung out and she was supposed to sleep over but her dad changed her mind so Sunday I spent cleaning the house with my mother. Yes, that is very relaxing...not.... So Monday I think I did something but I could have just stayed home and relaxed for a bit. Tuesday I deffinatly did something. I don't remember who it was but I hung out with someone. Wednesday I hung out with Sarah all day and then Thursday I went shopping wiht her for an hour or two. Then Friday I got my hair done. (I had it cut and put some chuncks of blonde in) Then on Friday night, I went to Savanna's birthday party. It was fun to play man hunt but Savanna had all of her team attack me and Jackie so she could get to the tree but I threw Mackenzie off of me and I just had to hit Emma in the stomach with my arm for her to fall. I didn't hit either of them hard but I am all sore today! But they didn't get hurt and I made sure that they weren't after I tagged Savanna and won the game. I felt very accomplished with herself. (I caught her twice. You have no idea how proud I was of myself) Okay, so then we went inside and watched &lt;a href="http://trickledown.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/avatar-movie-poster.jpg"&gt;Avatar.&lt;/a&gt; (click 'Avatar' to see the movie cover)I watched the first hour and then fell asleep. I woke up again to watch the ending battle scene. Then we watched &lt;a href="http://periscopedepth.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/shutter_island_movie_poster2.jpg"&gt;Shutter Island&lt;/a&gt; (click 'Shutter Island' to see the poster) which was one of the STUPIDEST movies I have ever seen. It was too complex and even though I understood, I didn't like it whatsoever. But now it is Staurday and Rylee came over at 1:00 and she left at like 10:00. Had fun though, even though I am sore and almost fell asleep on the couch when we were watching &lt;a href="http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/3500000/degrassi-cast-degrassi-3518518-400-300.jpg"&gt;Degrassi&lt;/a&gt;. (click 'Degrassi' to see some of the cast members) It is technically Sunday right now and I am so beyond tired that I feel like a zombie. Tomorrow I have to do my homework and then the rest of my social studies work that I missed and I have girl scouts. I'm going to sleep. Ugh, it is too early in the morning for this. (note; I was having fun with the hyperlink button which is why I linked a lot of pictures in this entry.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2243223839573470489?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2243223839573470489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/04/its-like-small-gerbal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2243223839573470489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2243223839573470489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/04/its-like-small-gerbal.html' title='&quot;It&apos;s like a small gerbal!&quot;'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5045027303780091039</id><published>2010-03-31T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T09:00:16.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I know what will make you feel better?" "Jumping Jacks...?"</title><content type='html'>Ughhhh! That was a bit unnecissary but I honestly don't care. I just got really pissed off for no reason what so ever. Woohoo for bad moods! No. School got canceled today because of all the rain. I honestly don't think it should have unless the roof like caved in or something. The 7th and 8th grade chorus was supposed to go on a field trip to compete in choral festival. I just really hope that it is before the 7th. Or atleast on the 7th. I'm leaving for Florida on next Wednesday night so I'm like freaking out about that. I don't really have anything to say or if I did, I forgot so I guess goodbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5045027303780091039?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5045027303780091039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-know-what-will-make-you-feel-better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5045027303780091039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5045027303780091039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-know-what-will-make-you-feel-better.html' title='&quot;I know what will make you feel better?&quot; &quot;Jumping Jacks...?&quot;'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-7336979077566201704</id><published>2010-03-28T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T10:56:43.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Every damn day! Five days a week!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Oh my word. (I had to quote &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Silverio&lt;/span&gt;) So I slept over my sister's last night. Sorta. Okay so we arrive at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Steph's&lt;/span&gt;. Chill for an hour or so. Go to Brian's. Now at this point, they're already getting drunk. Even their dog Lilly (They spilled a drink, Lilly licked it all up). So we drive to this place called Encore after I iron my brother's jeans, do his hair and then tell him what cologne to wear. So we get to the place, Angela is singing (Band is called &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/sweetdesireband"&gt;Sweet Desire&lt;/a&gt;; my sister is the one with the really, really curly hair. [click 'Sweet Desire'.]) and we then all order. The food is really good and all Italian and there was a dance floor too. I knew as soon as I saw that dance floor too that Brian was gonna make me get up and embarrass myself by dancing. I should also note that Brian, Sal (Brian's new bf), &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt;, and Angela are all gay. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt; and Angela are married. So naturally, Brian can dance. I however, cannot and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I'mma&lt;/span&gt; girl and I'm straight so I think something is wrong with me. So we're dancing, and some are drinking and then Brian just gets drunk worse than everyone. People are starting to leave and stuff (we were the last to leave because we were going home with Angela) so then Brian at this point is so drunk, he is yelling and throwing stuff and drunk dialing. So you can imagine how crazy it got. (From seeing my family get drunk, and also my fear of puking, I have sworn to myself that I will never, ever get drunk. Unless it is like, my wedding night or something. Special occasions only.) So then Brian is throwing the little candles (fake ones) at people, kissing everyone, dancing with anyone, buying drink after drink, saying stupid stuff (like my title. He was talking about coffee) Then he is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;talking&lt;/span&gt; to someone and he just throws his phone across the room and yells, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Lyss&lt;/span&gt;! Go get my phone!" So I play along and am like "Fine, I'll go get your phone!" and make a face at him just cause, well I'm not sure. I think my goal of the night was to try and make Sal laugh. So then we venture home and it is like, 2:00 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt;? I watch a cake show with my brother and then Iron Chef. He falls asleep and I can't fall asleep so then I watch LA Ink and at like 3:45 or so, I finally fall asleep, only to be woken up around 8:00 by my sister's dog licked me like mad. Don't get my wrong, I love Lola, but dog breath isn't exactly the nicest thing to wake up to. So yeah, I'm gonna go take a nap now. *yawn*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-7336979077566201704?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/7336979077566201704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/every-damn-day-five-days-week.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7336979077566201704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7336979077566201704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/every-damn-day-five-days-week.html' title='&quot;Every damn day! Five days a week!&quot;'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1118511236084499531</id><published>2010-03-27T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T10:43:31.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting mauled by a rhinocerous.</title><content type='html'>Thank the lord it is Saturday! I have never dreaded a week so much! So last night I went to the movies with Miranda and Emma. We were going to see She's Out Of My Leauge but we didn't know it was rated R so we were denied seeing that. We saw Alice In Wonderland (for me, a second time) in 3D. While we were choosing, these three guys were waiting in line to buy their tickets to see a movie, and I heard the one named Stevie say under his breath to his friends, 'They have to be from Scituate,' So, then immidiently after that, he talks to us. &lt;div&gt;Stevie: Are you guys from Scituate?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miranda and Me: Yeah,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stevie: Do you know Greg?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miranda: DeAngelous?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stevie: Yes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yeah&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then Stevie's friend asks Stevie where Greg is (we think) and Miranda thinks she heard Stevie say that he is in the theater. We then freaked out the entire movie. Emma texted Greg and here is the conversation. (I read over Emma's shoulder.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma: Are you at the movies?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Greg:No&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma: Oh cause these three boys just came up to us and asked if we knew you. How did they know us?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Greg: Are you with Talia?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma: Nope, I'm with Alyssa and Miranda. How did they know us?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Greg: *No reply*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we thought that was pretty rude of Greg. On Monday, we're all gonna go up to him and ask him what was going on so I'll update on that Monday. I made a new friend named Jojo. And no, Jojo is not a girl. Yes, strange indeed. But he is funny. So yes I am very proud that I have made a new friend with an unusual name. I have to sleep over my sister's tonight so I guess I should go pack my bag and stuff so I can watch Coraline in peace and not worry about anything. Goodbye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1118511236084499531?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1118511236084499531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/getting-mauled-by-rhinocerous.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1118511236084499531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1118511236084499531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/getting-mauled-by-rhinocerous.html' title='Getting mauled by a rhinocerous.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6223406372940741867</id><published>2010-03-25T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T13:50:02.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking Along The Sidewalk...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photogallery.filmofilia.com/data/media/17/alice_in_wonderland_poster_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 425px; height: 225px;" src="http://photogallery.filmofilia.com/data/media/17/alice_in_wonderland_poster_4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad today is over. Nothing bad happened, I just really didn't want to be in school at all today. But when does one ever want to go to school? What was that? Did you say no one? If you did, then you're correct! Had an all chorus concert last night. It was actually really fun. The seventh graders kind of sucked really bad until their third song when two kids came out and did a solo. They could sing like amazingly and that is saying something if they're seventh graders. (I only say that because our chorus teacher hates her seventh and sixth grade class a lot) We weren't bad apparently. We also apparently did our best ever. The high schoolers were amazing though. The select chorus (for which I will be auditioning for next year) were so good, that when they were singing a sad song, they sang with such emotion that I got goosebumps and noticed I was kind of sad. It was just so crazy and inspirational. Then the entire high school chorus sang and they were really good too. They sang a song called "Prayer Of The Children" and it was so good that it was like, CD material apparently. I really liked their song Jabberwalkie which I lalalaloveddd so much it was crazy. "That song made me so happy," - Eli LaCasse That kid is my hero. New topic! We got new couches and pillows, and side tables, and a new coffee table too. They're really bouncy and they feel high up. I like them :] New topic! I'm being forced out of my house on Saturday. I'm supposed to go sleep over my sister's which I kinda, really don't want to do. Don't get me wrong, I love them and all, but I shouldn't be forced out of my own house, ESPECIALLY on a Saturday night and so my mom can go be a whore and have sex in her room. She is horrible. Well now that the disgusting topic was brought up, I'm going to go throw up now. Bye bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6223406372940741867?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6223406372940741867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/walking-along-sidewalk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6223406372940741867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6223406372940741867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/walking-along-sidewalk.html' title='Walking Along The Sidewalk...'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1765313906516168704</id><published>2010-03-24T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T13:57:55.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, DOUBLE hate, hate, hate, LOATHE!!</title><content type='html'>Ladadadah, ladadadadadadahhh. It's something like a party! I want to have a party. Yes a party would be fun. I'm on the phone with Miranda and and sitting on the couch eating popcorn and watching School Gyrls. Good movie but they are making straight up white girls try ro be gangster. My dad got me a big bag of stuff from Bath &amp; Body Works and I'm like in love with the P.S. I Love You perfume he got. Like, I sprayed it n my wrist and I've been smelling my wrists all day. Today was average though. Nothing special. I have an all chorus concert tonight at school and I have to be there at 630 for warm ups but the concert starts at 700. It's going to be an hour and fifteen minutes so I won't be home until like 830 or 845. I also gotta take a shower and do all my homework so this should be fun. It is like 448 right now and I have science, double social studies, and I have to study for science. I guess I should go then, I'd prefer not to get grounded by being awake past 10. (1030 if I'm reading) Wow. That just sounds so extremely pathetic. Even just typing it made me feel lame. So I'mma go now so I can finish my homework and not get grounded cause I would actually prefer to take a shower too. So bye bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1765313906516168704?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1765313906516168704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-hate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1765313906516168704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1765313906516168704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-hate.html' title='Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, DOUBLE hate, hate, hate, LOATHE!!'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3056794748762012031</id><published>2010-03-23T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T16:50:50.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An aquatic revolituon</title><content type='html'>Today was cool. I guess you could actually say that it was on the line of tipping to good. It rained...again. Bleh, I usually don't mind the rain but lately it has begun to be too much. I've noticed that moods change when the weather is nice. People are peppier and more pleasant when the sun is shining. Well what can you do? Mason was okay today. I wore by hair back in a ponytail for the first time to school and everyone thought I had cut it cause my top layer was hanging out. I'm a bit insane, but not that insane. I still have have bunch of homework so that is just wonderful. I'm diggin this new vitamin water. Grape-blueberry. Hm, that's interesting. I guess cause this post is like, jumping all over the place (no baby I don't like, living under your spotlight. &lt;--- &lt;3 that song) from topic to topic and if I don't finish my homework, I'm fucked. My mother says that for every minute that I am awake after ten at night, I'm grounded for a day. Like, if I;m awake until 10:20, then I'm grounded for 20 days. Completely ridiculous! Just sayin... (I took that from Alex Evans :D He is my love//inspiration//idol &lt;3 ) Byebye now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3056794748762012031?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3056794748762012031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/aquatic-revolituon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3056794748762012031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3056794748762012031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/aquatic-revolituon.html' title='An aquatic revolituon'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2636840889227020117</id><published>2010-03-22T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T13:21:18.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I hate when you're walking down the sidewalk and you get mauled by a rhinoscerous." - Brian</title><content type='html'>Meh. I really can't deal with this fucking drama anymore. I'm sick of Jimmy always thinking he knows everything and thinking he is always right yeah well guess what, go fuck yourself Jimmy. Something that always bothered me about him was that he was always telling me to dump Rylee as my best friend. Just cause they don't get along, doesn't mean I should have to choose. I mean really now. So he also always says that having her out of your life is less stressful but honestly, it is the other way around. Ugh, he is so annoying! This is the third big fight that him and I have been in and I'm not gonna give him anymore chances. My brother says that you should give a person three strikes and Jimmy has taken all of them. I'm done with him Goodbye. Whatever. Okay so now for the good stuff. :] As for Tyler, I think he actually doesn't mind me anymore. He sat next to me at lunch, and he started talking to me in math, social studies, and even a little in homeroom. So that is like, a miracle. I don't seem to really care about Jimmy anymore right now. I'm actually strangely okay with it. :]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2636840889227020117?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2636840889227020117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-hate-when-youre-walking-down-sidewalk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2636840889227020117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2636840889227020117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-hate-when-youre-walking-down-sidewalk.html' title='&quot;I hate when you&apos;re walking down the sidewalk and you get mauled by a rhinoscerous.&quot; - Brian'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-8372166132886489636</id><published>2010-03-21T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T09:57:29.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That fish had hopes and dreams // a moment of silence for the squirrel please</title><content type='html'>Hello blog reader. I've given my blog a new design but I messes up the background cause I've been trying to customize it but it's not going well. The picture in my header is my absolute favorite picture of Taylor Swift. I've always loved bubbles and the tea pots and stuff just reminded me of Alice In Wonderland which is one of my favorite movies. But today, I don't think it is possible to get any worse unless my mother doesn't bring me to the phone store to get my phone fixed before five. That sounded like I'm a brat but she promised me she would and then she decided to steam clean the carpet out of no where like wtf? So yeah, I really want my phone. But also, she is behind even more cause the neighbors started freaking out. I'm good friends with the daughters so I ran over cause they were screaming and crying. Turns out, their dog got hit by a car. I was over there for a little while, they calmed down and stuff but my better friend was not at home so she doesn't know yet but when she comes home, I am going over again cause she is going o be fraking out cause she loved Ollie. Their other dog, Oreo, is going to be really depressed too cause they were like best friends and they were always together. It's really sad though cause that dog was a well behaved, cute, lovable dog. That was the first time he ever went in the road. Sigh, well, I'm going to go keep a look out for Casey. Goodbye for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-8372166132886489636?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/8372166132886489636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/that-fish-had-hopes-and-dreams-moment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8372166132886489636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8372166132886489636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/that-fish-had-hopes-and-dreams-moment.html' title='That fish had hopes and dreams // a moment of silence for the squirrel please'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6478181512975863191</id><published>2010-03-20T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T10:11:43.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladadada Ladadadadadadahh. Ladadad- Q!!!</title><content type='html'>Okay well it has been a really long time sense I've written an actual post on this site. I used to keep a journal on my witty but I wrote one thing, was hacked by my brother, and some drama started but whatever. Doesn't matter. On here, no one but Rylee knows my blog so I guess this is just better for me. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna start a while bunch of shis on here, I'm just gonna type things similar to what I would type in my old witty journal or my own paper journal which I rarely write in anymore but I staple movie tickets and sometimes my unfaithful (unfaithful becuase the wished don't come true) wish bracelets that fall off. I'm not going to even bother recapping what has been going on. I'll just start off on what is happening now. Well it is a Saturday and it is about 70 degrees outside which is just amazing! I've missed the sun so much and now it is out, the wind is blowing a bit and  it has put me in such a good mood! Today is the first day of Spring and it feels like Summer!! :D I've got an iced coffee, my lap top and I am actually happy. There is drama in my life but it is too nice of a day to worry about it. The only bad thing is my phone is broken. Well, sorta. It isn't charging and it doesn't even recognize it is charging and the thing is already going dead so we're going to the store and they'll try and fix it. I kinda hope they'll give me a new phone. Well, the same kind just a different color. I have a blue one now but I want a red one. I barely own anything red. Clothes, shoes, or anything really. Red isn't really a big color and I think it would be cool to have a read and black phone. I just hope I don't lose my contacts and my pictures and stuff. I think I'm going to go be a child and watch Tarzan. So bye bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6478181512975863191?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6478181512975863191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/ladadada-ladadadadadadahh-ladadad-q.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6478181512975863191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6478181512975863191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/03/ladadada-ladadadadadadahh-ladadad-q.html' title='Ladadada Ladadadadadadahh. Ladadad- Q!!!'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-8646347308287233134</id><published>2010-01-13T15:12:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:13:41.302-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 13, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 13, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Well...not much to say. I have recently developed an obsession with orange juice and Demi Lovato. I like both before but now it's like, I must listen to Demi and have atleast a glass of orange juice a day. It's ridiculous. Oh, and cookies. Yeah them too but less so. I am reading a new book called North of Beautiful. I picked it up cause, well actually, no idea. It just caught my attention. What really made me buy it was when I read the inside cover it mentioned a cute goth boy named Jacob. Well, actually cute and goth just&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;kinda sold the book itself. Haha, well it could have just been me and my unusual habit of being attracted to goth//emo dressing boys. I have no idea why they just have that whole hair flip thing and they seem all mysterious and stuff. Oh well. Thinking someone is cute isn't a crime right? Anyway, I was supposed to go over Talon's today but she told me that she had to go somewhere after school a few days ago so I didn't bother asking my mom. For some reason I keep thinking that she lied to me. Ugh, me and my insecurity. Bleh. Anyway, I think I'mma go jump around like I'm mad (as in insane, not grr) then take a shower, then do my disgusting math and social studies homework. Bleh. :[ (Song of the Day: Don't Forget - Demi Lovato)&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/6927276260006590759-8646347308287233134?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/8646347308287233134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-13-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8646347308287233134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8646347308287233134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-13-2010.html' title='January 13, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3532574273410069996</id><published>2010-01-13T15:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:12:28.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 12, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 12, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Well, nothing really happened today. Social studies was cool and we won the basketball game, like always. But the made a really bad call on Austin. It was ridiculous. But he told me that that wasn't really that bad compared to when the refs called a foul on Justin who was sitting on the bench at and away game. So, yeah. Well I'mma go cause it's almost ten and I have a headache. Laters. No song of the day today&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/6927276260006590759-3532574273410069996?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3532574273410069996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-12-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3532574273410069996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3532574273410069996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-12-2010.html' title='January 12, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2034504386184070283</id><published>2010-01-13T15:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:11:16.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 11, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 11, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Whoa there Wittian(s)! I'm now 14?! Wow. Anyway. For my birthday I got a lap top. It is an apple iBook. Rylee and Matt named it. The name is Craig Vernon Airotciv. Last name pronounced, Air-o-tis-iv. Not much to say. So, byebye. :] (Song of the Day: I Can Transform Ya - Chris Brown ft. Lil' Wayne &amp;amp; Swizz Beatz)&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/6927276260006590759-2034504386184070283?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2034504386184070283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-11-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2034504386184070283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2034504386184070283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-11-2010.html' title='January 11, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6888044276443736763</id><published>2010-01-13T15:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:09:52.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 8, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 8, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Today was fun. Today was good. Rylee and Talon came over after school. That was fun too. We basically just laughed and I got fake insulted. We watched videos and then we all went on AIM. I'm getting my lap top tomorrow! Woot woot! Uhm... Mason's friend Cody has a little brother who is named Mason. That freaked me out when I was watching his videos. Yeaup. Oh, uhm. Movies tomorrow with Rylee, Matt, Victoria, and Miranda. Maybe Austin too. Not much too say. I'mma go watch Secret Life Of The American Teemager online. Laters interwrd nation. :] (Song of the Day: Falling Over Me - Demi Lovato)&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/6927276260006590759-6888044276443736763?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6888044276443736763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-8-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6888044276443736763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6888044276443736763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-8-2010.html' title='January 8, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2064160315300715348</id><published>2010-01-13T15:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:08:12.972-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 7, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;Januart 7, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;No update for today. Some major drama going on with Miranda and somehow, I got sucked into it. So I just thought I would write something so bye. (Song of the Day: Hard - Rhianna)&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/6927276260006590759-2064160315300715348?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2064160315300715348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-7-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2064160315300715348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2064160315300715348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-7-2010.html' title='January 7, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2211686302256287644</id><published>2010-01-13T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:04:57.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 6, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 6, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Hi there. :] Today was pretty cool. I wasn't on yesterday because I went to go see Wicked. It was surprisingly good. But I've had Defy Gravity stuck in my head so like, grr and stuff. hehe. Anyway, at the PPAC, there were a bunch of people from Scituate. Because I went with the girl scouts, my troop was there. That's like 12 people right there. So then Kayte, Amber, Autoum, and Alissa were in front of us. Then int he middle of the balcony was Ellen and Sam. Then on the other side of the balcony was Matt. :] I got up and said hi :] At first he saw me coming and he looked quick so he looked back and he was squinting so he was like all confused. It was funny though. Yesterday there was two songs of the day. One was Defy Gravity cause it just worked and the other I think is called My Neck, My Back. or something but it is very dirty so I won't put it on. Anyway, today was just fun-ish. Somehow, Jimmy and I are friends again but that isn't why today was good. Mason stared at me, like full out, stared at me for what seemed like a real long time. So when I caught him I stared back and Miranda, Talon, and Aileen (Shaylyn is oblivious) all noticed and were like whoa there! But I'm not sure that is why either. Oh well. Well I think I'mma go play Dance Dance Revolustion: Hottest Party 3 (Yes I did need to write out the whole title). Whoa I wrote a lot. Oh well. Bye bye Witty World. P.S. The song title is wong. Well it is right, that is what it is called but I've liked Mason for 13 months so I felt the need to type that 6 months is not actually the time span. Okay well, bye.  (Song of the Day: 6 Months - Hey Monday)&lt;/span&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/6927276260006590759-2211686302256287644?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2211686302256287644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-6-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2211686302256287644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2211686302256287644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-6-2010.html' title='January 6, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1456339294460510523</id><published>2010-01-13T15:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:03:08.396-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 4, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 4, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Headline of the day - "Doodle On Your Napkin" Wonderful advice from Talon's agenda. School sucks. Nothing else to say about that. I  have math homework and I have to do this stupid this for gym which really is as pointless as the mile and that is pretty damn pointless. Well before I do that, I think I'mma go watch Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging again. Well bye bye. (Song of the Day: On The Brightside - Never Shout Never)&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/6927276260006590759-1456339294460510523?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1456339294460510523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-4-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1456339294460510523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1456339294460510523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-4-2010.html' title='January 4, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1304789848733508117</id><published>2010-01-13T15:01:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:02:19.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 3, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 3, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Ah! It's the last day of vacation! D: It's been snowing the past couple days and everyone thinks we'll get a snow day but I'm highly doubting it because it only looks like about 4 inches. Then again, my school is really stupid. During that snow storm we had a few weeks ago, they didn't cancel school but a few days before that it snowed like 2 inches and they canceled school. Yup my school is stupid. It really windy though. Wow, I can't believe I'm talking about the weather. Oh well. Anyway, I watched I Love You, Beth Cooper this morning. It was okay I guess. I think I'mma go watch Mamma Mia now so bye bye. (Song of the Day: Everything Will Be Alright - The Killers)&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/6927276260006590759-1304789848733508117?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1304789848733508117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-3-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1304789848733508117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1304789848733508117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-3-2010.html' title='January 3, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-8073873523495749636</id><published>2010-01-13T15:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:01:32.812-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 2, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 2, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Hi hello wittian(s). Nothing to update today I just figured I'd write. I went to Miranda's last night and we watched Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging. It was amazing. It'll be my favorite movie for now. That is until I see Alice in Wonderland. That I am made excited for. :] Miranda is dead set on getting a  group of friends to go to the movies on my birthday next Sunday. She is inviting; Rylee, Victoria, Savanna, Austin, Matt, Dan, Ryan and Mason. I don't think this is going to go well. For my party, I'm thinking I wait until summer and then have my party at my sister's because she has a pool. Well, I'mma go play some weird game a Facebook now. Bye bye. P.S. My song of the day is from Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging. I mentioned the movie above. The band in the movie is called Stiff Dylans and I don't know who really sings it so I'm keeping it as it was in the movie. (Song of the Day: Ultraviolet - Stiff Dylans)&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/6927276260006590759-8073873523495749636?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/8073873523495749636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-2-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8073873523495749636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8073873523495749636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-2-2010.html' title='January 2, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1882870329340286941</id><published>2010-01-13T14:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:00:36.608-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 1, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;January 1, 2010:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; "&gt;Happy New Year Wittian(s). I just thought I would write that before I go to bed. It is 12:25 right now and I'm tired, upset, and feeling guilty. So, I'll write later. Goodbye for now...&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------10:50a.m.-------1/1/10--------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;So, it's later, I have slept and created a new animal. Yup. It is called; Byrdinowolf. Yup. I had a dream awhile ago that was about a big animal with dragon wings, a wolf body and head, lion or other big scary cat characteristics (eyes, ears, teeth, all that stuff) and the tail of the Hungarian Horntail dragon from Harry Potter 4, attacking the little town (we call it the village) when the art festival (a festival for homemade art and other stuff that you can buy) is held. For some reason I had magical powers and I knew what to do. I made everyone run to the cemetery because the Byrdinowolves can't go in cemeteries. Then my whole family had magical powers and everyone ran into this big tunnel thing and underground there were a bunch of tunnels. Then we came into this little circle thing and I told everyone what was going on and then Mason came back into the little clearing (he is in almost all of my dreams, not me making it up) and then he just, kissed me for some reason and then I woke up. Was I confused, hell yes. Did I feel like I had just come out of a science fiction book? Yup. Did I write it down, idiotically, yes. So now I'm morphing it into a story and thus, my creature was born. Uhm, well besides my creation//dream//story, I'm going over Miranda's later to watch Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging. It is gonna be mad awesome. Rylee and I were supposed to go see The Squeakquel later on too but her friend told her it sucked so Rylee decided she didn't want to go see it so we aren't anymore. Yup. That is whats happening today and it is now only 11:06. Wow, I wrote a lot today. Oh well, goodbye. (Song of the Day: F**k You - Lily Allen)&lt;/span&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/6927276260006590759-1882870329340286941?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1882870329340286941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-1-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1882870329340286941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1882870329340286941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-1-2010.html' title='January 1, 2010'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3634261643665847453</id><published>2009-12-31T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T20:09:18.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 31, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;December 31, 2009:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Gah! It's that last day of the year! D: *insert gibberish here* I do not like New Years. It is an end. I'm not so fond of endings. Sure sure it also is a new beginning but bottom line. I don't like change. I never have even when I was a little kid. When I was nine I cried my eyes out when I lost my last tooth. It was a big deal and a big change for me okay? Anyway, last night I went to see Sherlock Holmes with Rylee and Miranda. Ryan was supposed to come but he didn't. The movie was kinda a total guy movie. Something I would end up watching with my dad and older brother when it came out on DVD. But it still was a good movie. My favorite part was probably when Sherlock threw the tiny hammer at the big guy. Something someone I know would do. Well anyway. Tomorrow, or rather at 12:00, will be the 13 month mark for the date I have liked Mason. Pathetic extremely. Well goodbye and Happy New Years Eve. (Song of the Day: Hummingbird - NeverShoutNever)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3634261643665847453?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3634261643665847453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-31-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3634261643665847453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3634261643665847453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-31-2009.html' title='December 31, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6300129323866419635</id><published>2009-12-31T19:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T20:00:08.227-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 29, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;December 29, 2009:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Hi hello there Wittian(s). Today was boring and nothing happened. Hopefully your day was better. Hehe. I'm actually starting to make friends with people here on witty. I mean, I have actual friends who I know not of cyber world on here but I mean people whole may possiablly live in a different state. So that's pretty cool. It's about damn time though. I've been on this site for almost a year now. Hehe. Also, I am going tot he bookstore. Yup, you know you're a nerd when you get excited to go to the bookstore. Haha. The final and third reason is because I'm going to the movies tomorrow. There is some issues to that though. The original movie group is; Ryan, Austin, Rylee, and me. Sometimes there are also tagalongs such as Joey and Jake. There are also part time people like Matt. Matt is amazing and all but we just tend to include others more often so I guess you could say he is a part time person. Miranda however, likes Ryan. She has been bothering me non-stop to introduce them and it is very bothersome. So I decided to just invite her to the movies. Thus, she is coming. Ryan and Matt are unaware of this. Duh duh dun. Hehe. Okay, well, I'm done here. Bye. (Song of the Day: Fingerprints - Katy Perry) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6300129323866419635?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6300129323866419635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-29-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6300129323866419635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6300129323866419635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-29-2009.html' title='December 29, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5218640697987718874</id><published>2009-12-31T19:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T19:56:48.649-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 28, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;December 28, 2009:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Bored as all suck. Hehe, that make me laugh. :] Anyway, today was boring. Yup, very much. Nothing happened. Vacation is boring. Hm... well I guess, I could write that for the past three nights in a row, I've dreamt of Mason. Yuppers. Well, uhm, bye. (Song of the Day: Open Arms - Gary Go)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5218640697987718874?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5218640697987718874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-28-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5218640697987718874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5218640697987718874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-28-2009.html' title='December 28, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-683770944861564626</id><published>2009-12-31T19:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T19:56:08.154-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 27, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;December 27, 2009:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Well, today sucks. Yup, some major crack. I have a special message to my blood buddy//cousin and maybe even my Nickasaur! friend. Anyway, that person who I think of as a: "Two faced, lying, piece of shit that can go to fucking hell" really is going out with our short blond friend. I guess she is that stupid. I feel like I've lost her. I kind of understand how you feel now blood buddy//cousin. Of course, it's different then what you went through. But if it;s a feeling of that you feel like you've lost touch on her and you don't know who she is anymore and you don't understand what happened or what happened, then i understand. I have to stop thinking about this. Goodbye.  (Song of the Day: Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-683770944861564626?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/683770944861564626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-27-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/683770944861564626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/683770944861564626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-27-2009.html' title='December 27, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-678214255863169383</id><published>2009-12-31T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T19:55:02.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 25, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;December 25, 2009:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Whoa there Wittians. Haven't been on this site in a long time. Well I have many updates and songs of the day but i honestly can't remember back to the 18th through now. Anyway, for Christmas, I got a snot green netbook. My mom is sending it back and getting me a regular, not snot green colored lap top. Anyway, hope y'all had a good day. Latersss. (Song of the Day: Any Christmas song)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-678214255863169383?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/678214255863169383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-25-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/678214255863169383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/678214255863169383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-25-2009.html' title='December 25, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5757800788394807584</id><published>2009-12-17T14:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:59:23.165-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 17, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Today sucked major ass crack. It just sucked. The highlights were that Mason was the first person I talked to today and a high schooler who is cute to me smiled at me. Nothing else good happened. Bottom line, horrible day. Period. End of story. Moving on. Good bye. (Song of the day: Full Circle - Miley Cyrus)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ ^ ^ that was my last entry from my witty ^ ^ ^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5757800788394807584?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5757800788394807584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-17-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5757800788394807584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5757800788394807584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-17-2009.html' title='December 17, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2570706960003460847</id><published>2009-12-17T14:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:57:00.071-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 16, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Today kind of sucked some major butt. I have no idea why it ju&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;st did. Hm... what good did happen? Oh,... well the best things that happened today were that I got a lot of shots in in gym during basketball. And uhm... I guess it's good, maybe better then good that Mason was wearing my favorite shirt. It also could be good that he offered me food today in s.s. I got nervous and decided just to chance it and took it. It was just a few grips from his package but it kind of seems like a huge step to me. I thought I saw him smile when I did but how can I ever be sure? Anyway, I'mma go now. (Song of the day: I Don't Love You - My Chemical Romance)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ ^ ^ still I am uploading journal entries from my witty page ^ ^ ^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2570706960003460847?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2570706960003460847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-16-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2570706960003460847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2570706960003460847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-16-2009.html' title='December 16, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-211041661046021749</id><published>2009-12-17T14:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:55:06.875-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 15, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Oh my cranberries. :] I just got home from the basketball game and I have homework but homework blows so you know, ef that. Yup it's gonna be one of those kinds of days. Anyways... today nothing special happened. What a huge lie. Well anyway. The first big thing that happened was that Arianna broke up with Jimmy so I gave Jimmy a hug and he stood on his toes and looked down my shirt. So that was like ew. Oh then we changed seats in science. I hate Mrs.Battey. She put me at the very front table with Silverio. Silverio isn't bad but he is distracting. Meaning, he likes to talk, he taps his feet a lot, and the makes odd noises. Then in s.s., we were writing down names we wanted to be in groups with. Talon who sits behind him (as in the boy I am very very fond of), wrote me and he turns around and reads my name. He said that his grandpa said to say my name as Paglirini which is close but not right. So I realized that he called me Alyssa Paglirini because of his grandpa. So that may mean that he has been talking about me to his family. It's probably just my hopes getting too high again. Anyway later on in s.s., he said, oh I have to stay after. So I said are you going to the game? He said no but then he did. He actually came tot he game. I'm not sure if he would have gone anyway even if I hadn't have asked him but I did and he came and well, I had a mojor freak out as talon would say. Anyway, I was sitting with Rylee cause we went right after school ended and then Victoria got there and then Sarah, Cian, others who I don't remember and he, you know what, let's call him Mason.  So I was flipping shit. Oh and did I mention he sat next to me? No? Well he did. By choice. I was scared out of my mind like you have no clue. So all of my friends were laughing at me, (aka Sarah, Rylee, Victoria, Miranda...) Then Rylee took my phone and decided to play photographer and Mason was the model. Yup. They set a picture of Mason as my background but I changed it to a picture of my friend Brian. Today was, today was amazing. And now I shall go watch the always amazing Mitchell Davis. :] (Song of the day: Pursuit of Happiness - Kid Cudi ft. MGMT &amp;amp; Ratatat)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ ^ ^ from my witty page again ^ ^ ^&lt;br /&gt;         (every Mason means Tyler)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-211041661046021749?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/211041661046021749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-15-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/211041661046021749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/211041661046021749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-15-2009.html' title='December 15, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5322054730430144234</id><published>2009-12-17T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:53:42.291-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 14, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Today was stupid. Well not really. That is just how I am choosing to look at it. I have been thinking all day and am honestly not caring. Nothing special happened except that everyone was reading the sexual part in my book. Yes I see how that can be thrilling. Well, a little bit of sarcasm there. Oh and, this kid Aaron was having a thumb war with my friend Nick and he goes, "1,2,3,4 I declare a thumb war. 5,6,7,8 I use this hand to masturbate." It was brilliant. Everyone laughed. I almost started crying. It was beautiful. :] Okay well I'mma go blast linkin park and scream the lyrics. :] (Song of the day: One Step Closer - Linkin Park)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ ^ ^ also from my witty page ^ ^ ^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5322054730430144234?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5322054730430144234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-14-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5322054730430144234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5322054730430144234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-14-2009.html' title='December 14, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1199021316211943591</id><published>2009-12-17T14:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:52:36.952-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 13, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Well then. Okay, I just completely redid my profile because mixpod.com decided to be a douche. I could no longer have my music player on my profile unless I chose a skin that showed video and all of those are big. So, I decided to use one of my best friend's layouts that she made. I don't think I like the way the music player looks cause it's still huge and it's not even int he layout it's self. But anyway, yeah, bye. (Song of the day: America's Suitehearts - Fall Out Boy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ ^ ^ That was written on my witty page. ^ ^ ^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.wittyprofiles.com/author/xoAllyyBabiiox27&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1199021316211943591?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1199021316211943591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-13-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1199021316211943591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1199021316211943591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-13-2009.html' title='December 13, 2009'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-599666801744734386</id><published>2009-11-21T07:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T09:31:05.280-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Do not worry Bella. My kung fu skills are strong." &lt;- - - Harry Clearwater. New Moon ♥</title><content type='html'>Hi hello there people. (or person who happens to be reading this who's name i may or may not know) Well i said i was going to write about the af but i seem to be losing my memory and i decided that i should remember this day sooner because it is more recent. Well, Rylee and I went over Talon's again on Wednesday. That was amazing for me but less so for Rylee maybe. I'm not sure. I never got to ask her if she had fun. Well on the bus, I realized that the reason Josh knows me as Alyssa Paglirini is because that is what Tyler thinks my last name is. He says Paglirini instead of Pagliaro. That kind of bothered me. I mean wouldn't you? When you love someone and would give everything up for them, wouldn't you feel it pathetic that that person you love, doesn't even know your last name. But anyway, the past times I had been up to Talon's Tyler never cam around. He did. I was shocked and frightened and scared out of my mind. I also felt the need to pelt Gaby in the head witha  large heavy rock. That or hit her with a car. Or... okay uhm never ming. Not proud of those thoughts but still! Okay Gaby, Talon, Rylee and I were all in Talon's back yeard thing that also works as a driveway and you can see some of it fromt he road. So we were being morons (naturally) back there. Screaming Fall Out Boy, riding Talon's scooter and her rip stick, and throwing rocks. (not at each other, but at the ground) Then Tyler rides by on his bike not knowing that was Talon's house so i just happen to look at the sidewalk when Tyler is passing and i well... I kind of... okay, it was a mix of an eek, a scream and a gasp. So Rylee looked, said nothing but came and stood near me. Talon looked and was completely oblivious but gathered near Rylee. Gaby on the other hand ran to the sidewalk and started yelling Tyler! Tyler over here! I was highly unhappy with her. But Tyler rode on. Gathered his friend Patrick. Then gathered his other friend Zach Fantasia who Gaby kept saying was her boyfriend but that they broke up. (This was all a lie. She made the whole thing up) So Tyler, Patrick and Zach all came in Talon's back yard//drvieway. I was not okay. Tyler picked a rose off a bush and put it in his hair. Later on I took one from the bush and it's in my room. But anyway, Tyler was chasing Gaby around tryign to hit her with his bike, with a jump rope, with empty bottles and cans and stuff. Then Tyler found a gardening hoe. They left out the gardening part of the hoe and said other things. Patrick took pictures of Tyler with the hoe. Riding it, hoding it, beating it, using it. Yeah... then Tyler chased Gaby with it but only for a second. Then he put it back. But, oh yes there is a but. He found another hoe. But this wasnt'a  normal hoe. This hoe had two penises. Yes I know it is strange sounding. It was like a regular how but on the other end of the hoe, it had two spike which they decided were to be two penises. Then Tyler got that hoe stuck in the wood of the deck of the garage. That was funny. Then Tyler got stuck in a tree which i was wondering about earlier. I asked Rylee, Talon, and Gaby if they thought I would get stuck in the tree if I climbed in cause it had a weird gap in it around the branches. Tyler climbed in, answering my question even thouth he doesn't know I asked before he showed up. He got stuck... well sorta. He just stayed int here for awhile cause Patrick and Gaby were throwing stuff at him. He didn't really have a chance till Zach jumped on Patrick and Gaby well, Gaby fell down when she was trying to pick up a rock. Nice people i know. So Tyler got out then. So a little while later, they all left. Well we thought so. after they rode back to the sidewalk, (they went the hard way, not over the driveway) Gaby came over to me and she said, Oh Alyssa did your heart just go flutter flutter. Tyler Tyler. Flutter flutter. Tyler. Thankfully she said it soft for her anyway. No one but Rylee and Talon heard but that was when I wanted to hurt her so badly. I picked upt he rock she threw at Tyler and chsed her with it for a minutes yelling shut up an stuff but Tyler, Zach and Patrick hadn't left. They had only sat in the front yard for a miute so by the time I was done chasing Gaby, Tyler came riding up the draveway to hit Gaby. I don't think I am right but I could have swore I saw him smile and wink at me after he did which freaked me out. So then Tyler left and Gaby started again. So i was like screw the rock, and I chased her for a bit. Then Talon's mom got home and we went to the elm school. I was looking for them but Rylee, Talon and Gaby weren't I think. We found them. They went to get a drink at the Bean while Rylee, Talon, Gaby and I all went in the graveyard. That was nothign special. We just sat there for a minute or two then we left and met back up with the boys. We went to the basketball court which brought back some art festival memories. Tyler broke a yahoo bottle over his bike and then him and others rode over the glass with the scooters. (Talon's and Patrick's I think) Rylee and I sat at the bench like we did at the art festival and watched them. Until Patrick came and layed on top of the bench facing me and opened his legs in a weird, creepy pose. i just got up and walked away. Rylee followed and then Patrick got up and was like, I love how everyone just takes off. Then like 5 minutes later, my mom calls and says she is gonna come pick meup so Talon, Rylee, Gaby and I had to leave and Tyler happened to have to leave at the same time so we left and I could not move my legs at all. I mean legit. Then I almost got a cold but because my mom made me go to bed at like 930 cause she thought I was gonna catch swine or whatever. Then thursday Tyler told me he had fun so that was like, whoa. Yeah, Friday, I slept over Savanna's casue we were not going to school because we were going to see New Moon at 215. That movie was amazing. Ilike, can't even descibed how much I liked it. Especially the shirtless scenes and the werewolf scenes and the voulturi scenes. Okay, you know what, just the whole movie. Rylee and I are gonna try to go agan today at 630. Yeah so I'll go now. Goodbye. &lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-599666801744734386?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/599666801744734386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/11/do-not-worry-bella-my-kung-fu-skills.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/599666801744734386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/599666801744734386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/11/do-not-worry-bella-my-kung-fu-skills.html' title='&quot;Do not worry Bella. My kung fu skills are strong.&quot; &lt;- - - Harry Clearwater. New Moon ♥'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-7059094741834676215</id><published>2009-11-14T08:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T10:30:03.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To The Power Of Dinasaur! Well I Prefer Nickasaur.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/Sv7i2oq_hnI/AAAAAAAAADw/ZepJmwFbnOI/s1600-h/bus+diagram.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/Sv7i2oq_hnI/AAAAAAAAADw/ZepJmwFbnOI/s200/bus+diagram.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404006031149729394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well Hi Hello. I haven't been on in forever and I apologize. School has been crazy. It seems like I've had homework every night and I'm up till 10 doing that homework. But basically, nothing is new. Nothing has changed. It's just. I don't know. Tyler broke up with Emma awhile ago and now he likes my friend Arianna. I had to tell Arianna that I like (Only Rylee knows I love him) him so she wouldn't hurt him but I'm positive she forgot.  I think//know this because Rylee and I went over Talon's yesterday. By going over Talon's, that means, we went on her bus. On her bus there are people. People such as Arianna, Talon, Austin and Tyler. I shall add a diagram of what the bus looked like. There we go. Note- Rylee and I did not purposely ditch Talon. I was sitting with her first so Rylee sat with Jackie. Then Arianna said she wanted me to sit with her so I moved and Rylee just did not move. So the first thing I heard was Gaby screaming, "oh my god it's my favorite people ever!" and then i hear Austin and Tyler saying to me, "Can I use your phone again?" Just because they are obsessed with my phone. I'm almost positive they like my phone more than they like me. So I left them use it. They called numbers like, 333-3333 and 1535 3453452446413463798697009000768 and 626-5479 and 007 and 346-4356 and 645-4634 and 346-5946 and643-5616 and 764-3454 and 434-6164 and 325-4621 and 446-4594 and 438-6854 and 461-5261 and 346-1643 and 322-2227 and231-986 and 371-9545. Yes. I did just go through my recent calls list and type every number. The uber long one took me at least 5 times. 333-3333 is the best one cause if u make a weird sound, they do it back. So they're awesome.  But anyway, on the bus, I finally talked to Tyler's little brother. His name is Josh. He is amazing! He is adorable. Not like omg he is so adorable that I have to go out with him or I'll die kinda stuff but like little kid cute and he is only a year younger. x] He kind of knew who I was too so taht was interesting. :] I shall type conversation. He was talking about volleyball with Arianna even though he doesn't know her. So volleyball talk so then this happens.&lt;br /&gt;Josh: Name? *points to Arianna*&lt;br /&gt;Arianna: Arianna:&lt;br /&gt;Josh: Heheh you said no to Tyler. Name? *points to me*&lt;br /&gt;Me: Alyssa.&lt;br /&gt;Josh: Paglirini?&lt;br /&gt;Me : Pagliaro.&lt;br /&gt;Josh: Paglirini?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Pagliaro.&lt;br /&gt;Josh: Paglirini?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Why not?&lt;br /&gt;So I was all happy he knew who I was. Well... sorta. But Rylee won't tell me her assumption on how he knows me. Even thuogh I really want her too. I just want to hear it. No, I need to hear it. It's just want I need. Anyway, there is this talent show at my school and the song that I'm singing is called Forever &amp;amp; Always by Taylor Swift. I'll add my playlist again. There we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;p style="visibility: visible;"&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/swf/mp3/mff-stick.swf" style="width: 219px; height: 35px;" height="35" width="219"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/swf/mp3/mff-stick.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale"&gt;&lt;param name="salign" value="TL"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="myid=28106336&amp;amp;path=2009/08/24&amp;amp;mycolor=b51aed&amp;amp;mycolor2=383232&amp;amp;mycolor3=ffffff&amp;amp;autoplay=true&amp;amp;rand=1&amp;amp;f=4&amp;amp;vol=100&amp;amp;pat=0&amp;amp;grad=false&amp;amp;ow=219&amp;amp;oh=35"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="visibility: visible; text-align: left;"&gt;My friend Victoria told me about this band called Nickasaur who are kinda weird but I like their song Dear June. In their other song called Rocketships &amp;amp; Radios, they go, "Tap tap tap like Happy feet" Thats what made me fall in love with them. :] Well I will go. I will write about the rest of the art festival (af) soon I swear. Bye bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-7059094741834676215?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/7059094741834676215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-power-of-dinasaur-well-i-prefer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7059094741834676215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7059094741834676215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-power-of-dinasaur-well-i-prefer.html' title='To The Power Of Dinasaur! Well I Prefer Nickasaur.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/Sv7i2oq_hnI/AAAAAAAAADw/ZepJmwFbnOI/s72-c/bus+diagram.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-504767068829193283</id><published>2009-10-22T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T13:44:57.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Go To Hell.</title><content type='html'>So much has happened and i can't remember all of it. I will continue writing about the art festival because the last two days of it were amazing, best day of my year. But I can't right now. I'm not in the mood to be happy. not int he mood to be joyful. Not in the mood to laugh today. Just one of those days that make me wish I could bury myself in a hole and lay there so the whole problem would be solved without my complete embarrassment. But whatever, i feel like shit. I hate school. I hate Tyler but at the same time i love him. and to top it off. The dance is 2maro. WooHoo. &gt;.&lt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SuDBuFxgMXI/AAAAAAAAADg/nh35VRYev2c/s1600-h/I%27m+not+afraid+of....gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SuDBuFxgMXI/AAAAAAAAADg/nh35VRYev2c/s400/I%27m+not+afraid+of....gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395525351157805426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-504767068829193283?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/504767068829193283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/go-to-hell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/504767068829193283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/504767068829193283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/go-to-hell.html' title='Go To Hell.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SuDBuFxgMXI/AAAAAAAAADg/nh35VRYev2c/s72-c/I%27m+not+afraid+of....gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-7623343690305894510</id><published>2009-10-10T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T07:58:56.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Squeling Over Purple Shirts, Next To The Green Pants, Behind The Yellow Crayon Eraser Things, And Everything Else Part One.</title><content type='html'>hi hello. right now it is 1:05 in the am and i must not get distracted. i am writing this so i don't' forget my day. i shall be writing 2maro and the day after. why? because it's a damn special weekend. This weekend is the art festival. it is a place where people come and sell stuff they make. it is all up at the village and it is very tiring. especially when u just walk around in circles for hours and hours and not buying anything. today i was with a mixture of people. first i was with Mary, Mary's boyfriend Kevin, Kevin's brothers or friends (am not aware of their relation), Rylee, and Gaby. until Gaby went off with Ashley and Elaine. so then it was just Rylee, Mary, Kevin and the other two. then after Kevin gave Mary a bracelet that said Kevin + Mary on one side and 8-8-09 on the other, they left. then for awhile it was just Mary, Rylee, and me. and it was fun. just us girls. and then we met up with Brittany for a minute before she went off with a girl named C.J. and Allie. We didn't go with them because we all apparently hate C.J. well, May does, it was Rylee and slightly mine to hold Mary back from beating up C.J. Yeah so Then Rylee saw Grant from Ghost Hunters. So Rylee wanted to go and see if it really was him so me and her went off and tried to follow him but we walked all the way from the church to where famous pizza is which is the end of the art festival and didn't see him. so we met back up with Mary and walked around a bit until we met up with Ryan, Austin and Brad. Ryan and Austin I'm friends with but Brad is... Brad is... well he is something. so then we went to the food court place where Ryan got something which i think was hot dogs which kinda grossed me out. (hot dogs always make me feel icky and i stopped eating them years ago.) Yeah so there weren't any tables and Rylee and maybe Mary were defiantly not eating anything. or at least that was Rylee and me's logic. So By the time we got to the lawn of my old elm. school, Ryan was done with his hot dogs and tried to make Mary laugh by saying what was the point in coming here now? So we all just sat down but i had to go do something so i walked away. I had to pick up this big cardboard cut out of Edward Cullen to give to my sister because she is selling twilight stuff and some Halloween stuff. like stirofoam grave stones, empty old looking bottles that say stuff like withces brew, spider venom and stuff like that. so i'm walking throgh the crowd with a cut out of Edward hoping to god I don't see andyone I know or anyone I like. (Tyler [oh boy story about him], Gary, so on and so forth...) so i was like gah! so i then somehow found my way up to my group and we were ealkign p to Famous Pizza. I swear i saw the lead singer of Monty Are I. I asked Rylee and she said it looked exactly like him so it wasnt' just me. so yeah and then eventually Ryan left and when he was leaving, he hugged mary (makes sense he like loves her.) hen he hugged Brittany (ex boyfriend and girlfriend) then he shakes hads with rylee, (makes sense he can't hug her cause of - i've said too much) and you know what he did to me. nothing. he didn't even look at me. he didn't hug me, shake my hand or even wave until he was down the road and he yelled bye. and that wasn't specifically to me. it made me feel like i meant nothing to him.a nd i don't think he really even cares about me. even if to me, he is one of my best guy friends. it just made me feel like shit. so then mary went off with britt and it was just brad, austin, rylee, and me and it was fun. just hanging out. until we met back up with britt and marry again and austin and brad left. then it was just the girls. it was lke 5 then so rylee and britt and mary all left and i went to my sister so she could bring me home. so now i can't move my legs, i have aheadache and i;m extrememly tired. goodnight.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-7623343690305894510?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/7623343690305894510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/squeling-over-purple-shirts-next-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7623343690305894510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7623343690305894510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/squeling-over-purple-shirts-next-to.html' title='Squeling Over Purple Shirts, Next To The Green Pants, Behind The Yellow Crayon Eraser Things, And Everything Else Part One.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3333768934378817647</id><published>2009-10-07T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T18:22:43.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dog Is Slippery.</title><content type='html'>hi hello. I'm having some difficulty to breathe. i find this pathetic. i find myself. at a loss for words when i am talking to this person. i saw him and i just kinda, oh my well i am not going into detail about it. I mean, Rylee and i can't even have a normal conversation when he // it is around. i mean really. i am trying to just type this entry, and i just can't concentrate. i don't know what to say and not say. I'm all like, confused. okay, it's been a little less than a half hour and now I'm just getting annoyed. he likes to talk about himself and baseball and his ex-girlfriends. yes we care about that very much. well now I'm just gonna go so goodbye.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3333768934378817647?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3333768934378817647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-dog-is-slippery.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3333768934378817647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3333768934378817647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-dog-is-slippery.html' title='My Dog Is Slippery.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3389247753176803749</id><published>2009-10-02T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T17:51:22.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Find. A New Time. A New Rhyme. A New Line.</title><content type='html'>hi hello. this entry is about nothing. i just wanted to add something. i reallyyy like it. yeah so that's it. and uhm my music lesson teacher says that I'm more of a poet than a song writer because my insperation comes form love and heartbreak. and also because i can't finish some of my songs and they;re only like a paragraph so...yeah they're poems now... okay well bye bye.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; line-height: 27px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; background: rgb(38, 38, 38) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe Script;"&gt;Letters start with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#bce45c;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe Script;color:#bce45c;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:7;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#5fe2ce;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe Script;color:#ff8080;"&gt;a&lt;span style="color:#bce45c;"&gt;b&lt;span style="color: rgb(95, 226, 206);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe Script;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#5fe2ce;"&gt;c&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffba75;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 186, 117);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe Script;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Numbers start with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(95, 226, 206);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe Script;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#5fe2ce;"&gt;1&lt;span style="color:#bce45c;"&gt;2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff8080;"&gt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Music starts with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#bce45c;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff8080;"&gt;Do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(95, 226, 206);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe Script;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#5fe2ce;"&gt;Re&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#bce45c;"&gt;Mi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;And love starts with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff8080;"&gt;you&lt;span style="color:#bce45c;"&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#bce45c;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#5fe2ce;"&gt;me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/6927276260006590759-3389247753176803749?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3389247753176803749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-find-new-time-new-rhyme-new-line.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3389247753176803749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3389247753176803749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-find-new-time-new-rhyme-new-line.html' title='A New Find. A New Time. A New Rhyme. A New Line.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6638722162349038990</id><published>2009-10-01T15:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T19:06:43.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Give Me My Damn Hannah Montanna Juice!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SsVfNsuTbPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/SR-CB-Q87GU/s1600-h/Angus,+Thongs+and+Full-Frontal+Snoggling+Cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SsVfNsuTbPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/SR-CB-Q87GU/s200/Angus,+Thongs+and+Full-Frontal+Snoggling+Cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387817218166975730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;hi hello. I'm not quite sure of my mood. i don't think this will be a long entry cause i have a butt load of homework and i have to study cause all the teacher find it necessary to plan test and quizzes that are inappropriate cause we have these NECAP tests which are some big special thing that i couldn't care less about. okay well i have some stuff to talk about that you obviussly don't care about but i;ll tell u anyway.  :] well, we'll start with school cause we're already talking bout that. well, i just started this new book called, "Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging." You wouold think a book with that title would be interesting. well ur positviley and 100% WRONG!!! (stupid lying book title) i only read the first 26 pages and i feel the ned to talk in a british acent. and it seems like half of this book is going to be in french. i mean, this book is kinda ridicuous. the book is basically her diary and if one day her friends don't "come round" or "give her a ring from the phone box" or "rung" her. she is always like, "oh my god. i have no friends i might as well be dead. i'm going to kill myself." it's ridiclous! ugh! but she kinda reminds me of a mixture of rylee and jimmy. whatever...now i guess we'll go on about how emotional i am about tyler right now. well, i'm pretty sure i've wrote about him going out with emma white. the girl who wanted to have sex with her boy friend but he said no and broke up wiht him. yeah, that emma. yeah well yesterday, yeah that wasn't a good day for me. Emma was wearing Tyler's sweatshirt and his dogtags. it was kinda like ... to me at first. (and the ... is how i felt) but by the end of gym class when i found out, i was on the verge of tears. I had shrunk down in my stall for changeing and  literally felt, a huge, black hole startigna t my chest and swallowing me. it was like ripping stiches open and not being able to stich it back up. I was being pulled apart at the seams. I've writen on how uch i love rylee. she is more of a sister to me than anyone in my family. that says something. but rylee proved it. she was the only one to notice when i was being swallowed. apparently i was making faces int eh hallway and then when i shrunk down (her chaning thing is right across from mine) she could tell something was up. i always put my left arm across my chest and hold my shoulder and put the other around my stomach to hold onto my side. it's my poor attempt to hold myself together. Rylee was&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SsVezinjymI/AAAAAAAAADI/VF80-ytDCRI/s1600-h/rain+drop+heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SsVezinjymI/AAAAAAAAADI/VF80-ytDCRI/s200/rain+drop+heart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387816768777734754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; the only one to ask what was wrong before i started crying. i had math right after gym. guess who is in that class. if you guessed tyler, your right. she sits across from me. well sorta. the class room in in rows and it;s hard to explaine but if i face left, and he faces right, we're looking right at each other.  jimmy sits in front of me. and in class without rylee, i was finding it harder to breath. harder to keep control. harder to hold back the tears. i guess according to jimmy i was being abnormally quiet so he turned around to look at me and right as he did a tear feel lout of my eye and i couldn't wipe it away fast enough. He had saw and well, that is never a good thing to have him know. (i haven't screwed up again yet.) so my the teacher was walking by and i asked to go to the bathroom. i walked slowly hoping to find rylee and signal her to come out but i was out of luck. i went to the bathroom and looked myself in the cleanest stall (and by cleanest i mean one with the least gross stuff in the toilet. XP ) and i leaned againt the wall, holding myself together saying dont' you dare cry. you have to go to math and you can't miss it becaue ur a dumb ass. (nice pep talk huh? [it's true tho...]) you can't be locked in here hiding for the next hour. you have to stay strong. just for a bit longer. and then sarahanne came in and i had to pull myself together and act like nothing was wrong cause she saw my shoes and knew it was me in there. i guess i should be thank full... but in another way i should say, what the hell is your problem sarahanne?! but you know... i'm waaayyyy tooo nice.  but anyway... i guess i'll just explain my title. my mom bought this juice nad it has hannah montana on it so i call it hannah montanna juice. it is actually pretty damn good. and that picture of the water droplets, yeah hs nothing to do wiht anyhting ij ust thik it is pretty. kay so yeaht that should cover it. oh wait! uhm happy october. it is the 1st. :o and uhm yeah thats it. so bye bye.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6638722162349038990?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6638722162349038990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/give-me-my-damn-hannah-montanna-juice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6638722162349038990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6638722162349038990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/10/give-me-my-damn-hannah-montanna-juice.html' title='Give Me My Damn Hannah Montanna Juice!!!'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SsVfNsuTbPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/SR-CB-Q87GU/s72-c/Angus,+Thongs+and+Full-Frontal+Snoggling+Cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1158201773205943059</id><published>2009-09-25T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T20:01:12.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Quirky Title For Today.</title><content type='html'>hi hello. I'm not gonna go into a lot of detail about why, but i just had to write somewhere how I'm feeling right now and i don't feel like moving cause i was already at the computer. I'm falling apart. breaking at the seams. I'm unfolding. I'm,... breaking. i hate myself. I'm too fragile. today. Tyler decided to ask Emma white out. the girl that almost had sex with that Dan person i wrote about a while ago. Dan refused so Emma broke up with him. people are saying it's only because Tyler wants to have sex and Emma will give it to him. but Tyler wasn't okay with it when Dan and her were gonna do it. now I'm just wondering if he only said that just because he wanted to lose his virginity first. the week of the Emma and Dan thing, people kept asking me, would you do it with Tyler if he wanted to do it? i kept saying no. i hate to admit it but now that he is going out with her, i am starting to think i would. i hate that I'm thinking that but it's just the thought that he is going be hugging her, to be holding hands with her, and to have his first kiss with her. that hurt to type. i keep replaying "you bet he anchor that keeps my feet on the ground" and when "forever and always" came on, i almost broke. I've been happy too long. it makes no sense but i like myself better when I'm depressed. i want to be happy but in reality, that particular emotion is nothing. Today, Tyler looked at me 91 times. I don't even care. i just want to be loved. i want to be healed. i want to cry. i want,... i don't know what i want.  I'm sick of being an actress. I'm sick of hiding. i just, don't' care anymore. i usually take forever to get ready for school and to make myself look good. to figure out what Tyler likes best. i just don't' care anymore. i would never go to school in sweat pants just because I'm that kind of person, and now, i could walk into school with sweat pants and a ratty old shirt and not even give a shit. i think i lost my heart. i think it's gone forever. i can feel the spot it's supposed to be and it hurts. it feels like a hole is there, it feels,... empty. i can't do this. i just, can't. goodbye.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1158201773205943059?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1158201773205943059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-quirky-title-for-today_25.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1158201773205943059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1158201773205943059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-quirky-title-for-today_25.html' title='No Quirky Title For Today.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1863759938684679999</id><published>2009-09-22T15:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T18:30:49.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vote For Horhay! // Cornelius, The Suicidal Corn.</title><content type='html'>hi hello. depression is starting to sink in and I'm not sure why. Jimmy has told me for the second time that he wants to end our friendship but I'm not gonna say fine, if that's what you want with him knowing everything. I told him i don't like Tyler anymore. but i told him i was still going to count. so, he doesn't really know anything so next time i screw up i can say fine. But speaking of counting, today's total was 71 and yesterday's was 45. Okay, well i started that yesterday, the 22nd. But it is now the 23rd because i was unable to finish that so i shall go on for today. hi hello. At the moment i think that my brother should go to Vermont with my Uncle. He called me fat cause i was gonna eat a bowl of salad cause i hate pork chops. Now my mom is yelling at me because i refuse to eat. No one but Rylee knows how low my self esteem is. I don't have any at all. I'm quite because I'm scared when I start to talk, people will think everything is stupid and hate me. Some people think I'm conservative and out of the ordinary cause i don't wear freakin' booty shorts and tank tops int he middle of winter. Actually, I'm just not a hoe. My friends all say that I'm pretty and they have no idea why i haven't had a boyfriend yet. Well, truth is, i hate the way i look. No one looks beyond whats on the inside. Not even some girls. The just judge you by your clothes and you face. It's stupid, yeah, obviously. But guys are worse. You could not pay me enough to go a day or even an hour as a boy. I'm glad being a girl but I also hate myself... did that make sense? oh whatever. I hate my face. My nose, yeah that's okay, that is like the one thing I like about myself. My lips, super thin. my eyes, small and one looks bigger than the other sometimes. My hands, i like low long they are but they;re a little chubby. yeah i have chubby fingers. My nails are never in a good condition even though i don't bite them. my feet, don't even get me started on my feet. My thighs, i hate them with a passion. they're fat and they jiggle. My "chest", or whatever you want to call it, one of them is bigger than he other. sometimes it seems like one size is bigger than he other. My stomach... i don't wanna talk about that. I just hate my whole middle section. My arm, my upper arms jiggle and my forearms are okay. but they're overly hairy. Yeah yeah it's just that I'm really Italian but people have been noticing a lot lately. I can't shave it, cause it;s just like leg hair, it doesn't grow back the same and it isn't soft. My toes, I don't like them, my nails are never in a good condition.EVER. but whatever... Today I went to Talon's.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SrrJjjZIJPI/AAAAAAAAACo/dEUHq-YDE8E/s1600-h/GEDC0080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SrrJjjZIJPI/AAAAAAAAACo/dEUHq-YDE8E/s200/GEDC0080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384837917108086002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  well basically up to the village. I was with Talon, Emily, Steph, Gabby, and Gabby's little dog thing Max. We went to a little penny candy shop where Steph bought four dollars worth of candy and then we met this other dog who possibly may live that the post office. Yeah he was trying to hump Max and Max was trying to hump him. But there was an issue. Max is very small and the other dog was big. So, that wouldn't work well. So we went to our old elementary school where we just walked for a minute and saw Cian and her neighbor Becca. We then went back to the little shops to go to charming Treasures to get these rubber bracelets that mean things.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SrrK5dkFEKI/AAAAAAAAACw/Bv_kp10xhh8/s1600-h/GEDC0083.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SrrK5dkFEKI/AAAAAAAAACw/Bv_kp10xhh8/s200/GEDC0083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384839393012158626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Things like, if you break a green one, you have to have unprotected sex with the person who broke it and stuff like that. But that store was closed so then I got a text saying that Jimmy was threatening to ask Tyler out for me. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SrrLVLCDmzI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1RCSFQtWuEc/s1600-h/GEDC0076.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SrrLVLCDmzI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1RCSFQtWuEc/s200/GEDC0076.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384839869073955634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I flipped. Yeah so what, he looked at me 68 times today, smiled his dazzling smile at me, and actually spoke to me. even if it was to ask for a piece of gum. Jimmy was going to because i had told him i didn't like Tyler anymore cause I know I'm gonna screw up again and I don't want him going around starting stuff like, Oh, Alyssa stalks Tyler. And Alyssa counts how many times Tyler looks at her or something. Even if that one is true. But i then started running down the street with gabby not getting tired cause it was important. But then i stopped short and was like, "WAIT! WHICH WAY IS TYLER'S HOUSE!?" and Gabby said this way come one. so we started running again. but we started walking after we realized Emily had to go. But we never ended up going, i just texted Tyler and he didn't' respond so I'm nervous to see him tomorrow. I should go now but I'll add a few pictures from today of Cornelius (the squished corn Gabby is pointing at) and people. bye bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1863759938684679999?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1863759938684679999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/vote-for-horhay-cornelius-suicidal-corn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1863759938684679999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1863759938684679999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/vote-for-horhay-cornelius-suicidal-corn.html' title='Vote For Horhay! // Cornelius, The Suicidal Corn.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SrrJjjZIJPI/AAAAAAAAACo/dEUHq-YDE8E/s72-c/GEDC0080.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-5668550484496122912</id><published>2009-09-18T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T20:35:22.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5 Gum and Rolling Quarters.</title><content type='html'>hi hello from a very smiley girl. school today sucked, with the exception of last period. Today the total is 21. 3 more than yesterday so yay.  I guess I'll explain my title cause it goes into the whole story. well, in science class, i was giving out gum, cause I'm just a nice person. ;]  (cause that's not conceded.) and he says the following, "hey Alyssa can I have some gum?" just because he said my name, I wanted to scream. I almost did actually. So I adore 5 gum now. :]  As for the rolling quarter,... well, in english, Tyler had a quarter and it rolled onto the floor and it hit my bag. it obviusly stopped so he walked over to pick it up. I picked it up for him, (again cause i;m a nice person. ;] ) He put his hand out for it a certain way and how I had picked it up, while i was placing the quarter in his hand, the way it happened, it was like we were holding hands. I hyperventalated,(not kidding) blushed bright red, and started shaking. Miranda and Aileen laughed at me but I didn't care, I was hopig he didn't see me become the mood ring I am. lol, I love Aileen. When I first told her how I change colors, she said, "oh my gosh! your like a freakin mood ring!" I died and she still teases me. It's actually quite funny. If you say his name, instant blush. Yeah so I obviously learned today, I'm an esy blusher. Rylee came over a little while ago. I can't stop laughing when we're together. I love her.  :]  She's my bestest friend//blood buddy//cousin. I know I say that a lot but Rylee and I are so alike, it's sometimes like we are actually related.  I love her. Yeah, thats right, I said it again. :] okay well, I'll gonow cause my mom wants to go on. I just honsetly think that grand parents and parents should not know how to use a computer. I mean really... so messed up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-5668550484496122912?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/5668550484496122912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/5-gum-and-rolling-quarters.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5668550484496122912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/5668550484496122912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/5-gum-and-rolling-quarters.html' title='5 Gum and Rolling Quarters.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-4312083965872388919</id><published>2009-09-17T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T16:13:44.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I'm A Bad Person, You Don't Like Me.</title><content type='html'>hi hello, it's Thursday and thank god it's Friday tomorrow. all i really wanted to say today is that i started counted how many times tyler looks at me. Tuesday it was 77, yesterday it was 28, and today it was 18, so, we're having some problems here. but anyway, i also wanted to write that, well i forgot, no wait i remember, we're playing another trip to the movies before the art festival. rylee and i are making the plans, the guys don't even know yet. but i think we decided on seeing i can do bad all by myself or something. but oaky, i jus wanted to write something for today so it didn't seems like i wasn't updating this. but basically, nothing has happened. so bye bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-4312083965872388919?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/4312083965872388919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-im-bad-person-you-dont-like-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4312083965872388919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4312083965872388919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-im-bad-person-you-dont-like-me.html' title='If I&apos;m A Bad Person, You Don&apos;t Like Me.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1990656751929181378</id><published>2009-09-13T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T08:56:00.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take A Break And Kill Someone.</title><content type='html'>hi hello. this entry is gonna e pointless. i just wanted to write//type soemthign thos morning tho, i'll be on later and be like, "this happened and then this happened blah blah blah blah blah." But i think i either have a new respect or not really hatrid but i think i might wanna strangkle one of Taylor Swift's songs.  "Forever and Always" from her latest album, "Fearless" is basically the story of whatever is left of the friendship between Tyler and me. it begins, "once upon a time, I believe it was a Tuesday when i caught your eye. and we caught onto something" well, i first started falling in love with Tyler on New Years Day. Which coincidentally was a Tuesday. i almost screamed.  But becaue i told u this entry was about nothing, (which it is) it is also very short.  Oh, and the VMA's come on tongiht and they're showing a new, New Moon trailer. i almost freaked when i read it on the website. wow. I really am obsessive. Thats really pathetic. well anyway, bye bye. listen to Forever and Always!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1990656751929181378?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1990656751929181378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/take-break-and-kill-someone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1990656751929181378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1990656751929181378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/take-break-and-kill-someone.html' title='Take A Break And Kill Someone.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6216325224990656308</id><published>2009-09-12T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T08:41:28.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Really Hard To Hate You When Your So Damn Cute.</title><content type='html'>hi hello. i don't think I'll be able to be writing much now that school has started. They give us a crap load of homework. Mr.Abrams, my second favorite teacher rambles on in class about nothing. so that's fun but then he gives us a bunch of homework. but that isn't fully why he is number 2. Mr.Sanzen he is just awesome, that's why he is number 1. but anyway, i don't really have a lot to say. i;m still kinda like, iffy, with jimmy. the old Aileen is coming back and I'm happy about that. Rylee is, nothing has changed with her.  :]  still amazing, never won't be. About my title for this entry, well, i sometimes hate this person but then he acts all sweet and i kinda, sadly,well, i kinda like, basically turn to puddy in his hands. not very proud of that. not at all. and then, cause i haven't talked to him in awhile, i was like, all, u know he is so irritating, and stuff like that, then i saw his new facebook picture and i hate to say//type this but i kinda did that gay laugh that is like heheheheheheheh and got that gay smile on my face. after i did this i was like wtf is wrong with you slut! not to mention, my other acts of hoeness. like, i keep wearing my vibrant skinny jeans, i have like, 5 or 6 pairs, (red, yellow, turquoise, purple, green, then purple carpi pants) just so this guy Mitchel will notice me. well, it;s working. he usually just looks at my pants but he has been staring at my face a lot more, and we're friends on facebook. not to mention how i went to a volleyball game with Aileen last night cause Mitchel was there. that was fun. he followed us, and i was like, holy shit holy shit holy shit. well anywayss, i should go cause my dad is here. bye bye. oh and 2 other things, i hate eight grade. it;s too complicated. i mean really, these to people in my grade are gonna have sex tonight. i mean what the fuck!? they're only 13! oh, and i found out something, Jimmy cuts himself. uh huh. for the past 2 months. apparently, he started casue people were always starting rumors that he is gay cause he does dance. but those rumors were in like 6th grade. so u can see how it;s so much more complex. people think that just because we're the so called "rulers of middle school" that we can go and have sex and cut ourselves. it;s ridiculous.  really. but now i;m kinda scared of jimmy. but he seems too happy to be "emo" just can't wait for monday. i have to deal with his shit knowing that he cuts himself. he doesn't even trust me with it. he only told Rylee and Miranda. miranda told me cause she can't not cause if jimmy does somethign bad to himself, she would be the only one who knew (she didn't know he told rylee) and she would be stuck with the guilt for the rest of her life. but no i really have to go cause my dad is getting nosey. bye bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; display: block; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; background-image: url(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/puppyprotector/be.gif); background-repeat: no-repeat; height: 278px; color: rgb(188, 175, 175); background-position: 50% 50%;font-family:Courier,monospace;font-size:12;" class="blacktext12"  &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/6927276260006590759-6216325224990656308?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6216325224990656308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/its-really-hard-to-hate-you-when-your.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6216325224990656308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6216325224990656308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/its-really-hard-to-hate-you-when-your.html' title='It&apos;s Really Hard To Hate You When Your So Damn Cute.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2466938815886097092</id><published>2009-09-09T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T12:49:15.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"You Killed My Boytoy! And My Girlfriend!"</title><content type='html'>hi hello. this won't be a long entry. well it shouldn't be. not really in a good mood today. i feel like I'm being used. By Jimmy.Rylee had made a quote saying something about someone being used so  i was thinking about it, cause it said something like, "he is using you to get to your best friend" so.... and it turns out, looking back n it now.  i feel like i am. i feel like Rylee was right. if it was about me. i looked back and it does seem like jimmy has been getting closer to me the past few months. and he is too needy. he acts like it;s the end of the world if she doesn't like his skinny jeans. i found this completely ridiculous. i miss the Aileen from last year. she was so carefree and didn't worry about anything and this year she is different. i miss the old Aileen. and well things with Tyler are slowly spiraling even farther downward than they were before. oh and there is a story about that today. in social studies i was kinda worrisome. i heard Silverio telling abbey(who sits behind me) something. well i only heard the end. i heard abbey ask, "she likes him?" and then silverio say, "loves" so i thoguht oh shit. cause the only people who i know are in love are rylee and me. (again not with each other. we're straight. really. trust us.) either way, still oh shit.  adnt hen i hear john d and jared laughing and one said tyler! really loud. so of course tyler hears them. and i think jared was like, "thats not nice but true." so i was oh. my. fuckin. gosh.  adn so the whole day was just like, total parinoia.  but right now. i feel like my only true friends are Rylee, and Matt Fic. Today as i was walkign tot he bus for some reason. i was close to tears. adn matt comes up to me and was trying to do the thing where he would poke my right shoulder while he was on my left side. but i saw him and i just got so happy. i was like matt!!! and i almost hugged him. wanted to but i can't at school. people would thnk things. i felt myself like, "brighten" or whatever when i saw him. matt does make me feel better. i miss him. i never see him anymore. Rylee understands my emotion problems and Matt just makes me feel better. so does Rylee but still. i feel liek theya re my only 2 best friends right now. but i'm gonna go cause i think i might cry. which isn't good. i feel like i am gonna tho. *sigh* goodbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2466938815886097092?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2466938815886097092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-killed-my-boytoy-and-my-girlfriend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2466938815886097092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2466938815886097092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-killed-my-boytoy-and-my-girlfriend.html' title='&quot;You Killed My Boytoy! And My Girlfriend!&quot;'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1283829025429083524</id><published>2009-09-04T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T19:18:49.552-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Once Upon A Time, Cinderella Killed Her Prince Charming Because He Only Wanted To Be Friends.</title><content type='html'>Hi hello. today wasn't as good as Wednesday or Thursday but i guess it was okay.it was kinda depressing at some points. I'm not sure if i should even go on and write about school. it was kinda like, eh today. nothing fun happened. well actually,... nope that was fun then. now it;s just like so what, get over it. but you know I'm just not in a good mood. more like a negative color mood. i want to go for a walk but i can't cause my mom won't let me. she irritates me a lot. but basically right now i just feel like swearing. i can tell right now this entry is gonna be a bunch of random subjects all but in one. i just feel like i need to do something like screaming but i should stay on task like i was trying to before cause it's probably a good thing to do. well at school the thing hat made me depressed came at the second to last period of the day. But I'll start before there. well, because Jimmy had talked to Tyler and asked him who he liked and asked his opinion of me and stuff. Well when jimmy had told me int he morning, i had misheard and though the said that out of the girls Jimmy listed, I was Tyler's second choice. So i was like, "floating on air" until art, when i got my oh so fabulous news. Well I was told the real story. All Tyler said was that I had a better chance at only being friends that being anything more. So at first i was like, okay, not so bad, still wants to be friends and he doesn't even know i like him.  But now, i feel horrible. But i must go. I really need to learn how to multitask better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matthew: you made your bed now lay in it.&lt;br /&gt;Me: what if my bed isn't comfortable?What if my mattress has a spring coming out of it? What if my bed had no pillows? What if i get cold? What if I pee the bed?!&lt;br /&gt;Matthew: (dies laughing)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1283829025429083524?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1283829025429083524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/once-upon-time-cinderella-killed-her.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1283829025429083524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1283829025429083524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/once-upon-time-cinderella-killed-her.html' title='Once Upon A Time, Cinderella Killed Her Prince Charming Because He Only Wanted To Be Friends.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2562639111725015056</id><published>2009-09-03T14:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T16:02:22.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinning In Circles Doesn't Make You Dissy, It Makes You Puke.</title><content type='html'>Hi hello. i had a very good second day today. which I'm worried will soon come to an end.  i'm sure 2maro will be the death of me. i came home feeling like i need to do cartwheels but i have no idea have to so i settled for spinning and jumping. so i went to classes and they were how they were supposed to be, educational. But English was again my favorite because we went to the computer lab. I finished early and i happened to be sitting next to Aileen and Jimmy. So while Aileen chose to talk to Danielle, I talked to Jimmy. Jimmy is, I'm not kidding, like my best guy friend. Of course there is Matt, and sometimes Ryan. I think Austin is kinda more of just a friend than a best friend but I'm not sure. Jimmy is amazing. I sit behind him and math and before and after class we're always talking. It's kinda funny actually cause the teacher will say you can talk now and Jimmy turns around and we talk about absulutly nothing. But in order, my favorite classes today were, english, social studies, science, math. I just loved english today. and not to mention some stff about Tyler, but while we were on our way to the computer lab, me, Jimmy, and Aileen were talking about Jimmy's Michael Jackson's Thriller shirt, we said Michael Jackson and Tyler turned and invlolved himself in the conversation. I nuged Aileen and she said something like, "I wanna burst out laughing because of what you just did." and I said, " If you do, I'll laugh with you."  so she said, "He'll think we're retards" so i said "He has expirence." which made her laugh casue she knows how I'm not fond of his ex girlfriend one bit. but we were talkign about Michael Jackson and it just made me happy because I hadn't talked to Tyler in like 7 months. So then after going to the computer lab, Tyler sat behind me and I was very irritated with Elizabeth becasue she was flirting with him. I wanted to scream at her and other rude things I'm not proud of. Jealousy is not pretty on me. But then he went on our teacher's website. But actually, his website is a blog here on this website. So i found taht out a little while ago and i flipped because the first thing that went throught my head was, Tyler was on Mr.Abram's in the computer lab. The seocnd was oh shit. well because i have to go, i'll just say, Jimmy asked Tyler who he liked, he said, "i don't know" but jimmy told him someone likes him and gave him a hint he guessed me and jimmy refused to answer unless he said if he likes me as more than a friend or not. I was upset because he said no to the liking but at the same time, he still called me one of his friedns so i was pleased. wow i sound old. lol, okay bye bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2562639111725015056?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2562639111725015056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/spinning-in-circles-doesnt-make-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2562639111725015056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2562639111725015056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/spinning-in-circles-doesnt-make-you.html' title='Spinning In Circles Doesn&apos;t Make You Dissy, It Makes You Puke.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3773759375130931022</id><published>2009-09-02T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T17:47:56.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Giraffes and Rockin Lobsters.</title><content type='html'>Hi hello!! I is happy today!!!! Today was the first day of school, and it was surprisingly one of the best days everrrrr!!!! This is legit, the best I've felt in months. so i guess i'll just type my day//classes here in my blog. i have few complaints but the few that i do, need to be fixed or else this year could go spiraling downward. okay, homeroom: in homeroom i sit next to my friend evan. hes pretty cool. adn then on the other side of me is a girl named sam, and then one of my best guy friends, jimmy. so i was pretty happy, not to mention, i have emily and talon in my homeroom. and i'm sorta kinda friends with danielle. and also, even thought she is in a different homeroom, miranda is still in like everyone of my classes. So you could tell by being in most classes with emily, talon, miranda and jimmy would make me happy. well it does. :] and then i guess anton and tyler are friends. so then anton goes and compares their schedule with tyler and he says he and tyler have like the same exact, so becasue i;m slight friends with anton, i ask to see his schdule to compare mine with tyler's because they;re the same according to anton. but i didn't get a chance to see it, but it turns out i have every class with him except gym//music and unified arts. So i think that was a major reason to my giddy mood. lol. giddy. :] funny word. sorry, random thought. but next period, today it was science: well in science we had like this weird assignment that was ment to be a game and i know for a fact that i had a kitchen timer in my bag and talon had soap in her's. yeah we were doing this thing where we couldn;t look in the bag we had to use our other senses but without sight and touch. well not touch at first. but u could hear mine ticking, and when we could stick our hand in, mine was a kitchen timer i know for a fact. adn talona nd i went aganinst the rules and told each told each other what we had. so, oh well. and tyler sat in front of me in that class and he actually looked at me like 3 times and i know it sounds pathetic, but whatever i;m obsessive. adn taht rhymed. hmm,... that gives me and idea. then we had unified arts: unified arts was slightly boring. thoguht i sat next to miranda adn with sarah g. not d. it was okay. the teacher was kinda... made me want to fall asleep. he is actually my old art teacher;s son. so that is kinda, ehhh.... but it was boring. i mean really. all we did was cut out shapes. make slits in places and then glue the sides of the slit together so the shape pops up. wow, it;s genius. work that a fifth, maybe even a 4th grader could do. why is a group of 8th graders doing it!? but whatever, moving onto social studies:social studies. hmm... what did i do in social studies? well i don't remembr social studies. all i do rememebr is looking at th back of tyler's head and the background noise of mr.abram's voice. he kinda has one of those voices that make u want to fall asleep so i kinda day dreamed and somehow talked to talon who was next to me :]  okay, next subject. well actually, we had lunch before we had english which would be my 4th period of the day. at lunch, we had new tables and sense the seats are attached tot he tables it felt like we were at the mall. it was kinda funny. it was like dead silent, well in my group, and i said, i feel like i;m at the mall. and everyone laughed. so i guess now we'll just go with english. english was fun. i was the only one with a colorful b=pen. lime green in fact. :] not to mention my putfit was legit, a rainbow. okay, if i ever say legit more than once in a nentry, i am going to bite myself. now i'll just, well, i can't continue, because my motheer is being irritating. grrr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3773759375130931022?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3773759375130931022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/giraffes-and-rockin-lobsters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3773759375130931022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3773759375130931022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/giraffes-and-rockin-lobsters.html' title='Giraffes and Rockin Lobsters.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-7758953793493902819</id><published>2009-09-01T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T08:43:45.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Quirky Title For Today.</title><content type='html'>hi hello from me on the first day of September.  I'm not sure if I'm moderately irritated, or mildly sad. i think it's mixture of both. i guess a god way to describe is the song, When It All falls Apart by The Veronicas.  maybe that and a few other songs. now my morning isn't going better than last night, in facet, it's about going the same. I'm not sure if this is just because I'm pmsing (due 2maro) or if i'm just really that effected. well, what would you do// how owuld you feel if your best friend//blood buddy//cousin and you friend were planning to kill your love. I know they were just joking around but rylee knows everything, about how i feel for tyler and how he has//does effect me. and then she goes and jokes around with a girl who can't keep her mouth shut. she'll blab but leave out the most important detail. everything. does that make sense? well anyway, because i cried last night, adn cried  this mornign, and probably will cry again int he near//ditant future, i'm gonna go. my lastday fo summer vacation and i;m stting in the cellar with the computer crying. not very appropriate or fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-7758953793493902819?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/7758953793493902819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-quirky-title-for-today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7758953793493902819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/7758953793493902819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-quirky-title-for-today.html' title='No Quirky Title For Today.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-4055836568390440908</id><published>2009-08-31T21:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T21:38:06.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Therapist Needs Therapy.</title><content type='html'>hi hello at this early//late hour. I'm coming to you live in a shitty mood. Right now, it is my 9 month total of loving Tyler//i think total of losing 2 friends in a year. I'll explain even though u could care less. i lost Tyler as a best friend, and for once, don't feel like talking about him right now. i think i just lost Rylee. i don't want to lose her, but i just can't believe she made me cry. well it wasn't just her. it was Sarah too  but still. and it was over something kind of stupid. well some may think so. if you have ever been in love, then you might know how horrible this feels. i guess Rylee, my supposed best friend//blood buddy//cousin, gave Sarah permission to kill Tyler. i was signed on to aim and Sarah's status was "Jesus has given me permission to kill Tyler (insert last name here). Who is with me?" so i messaged her and she refused to tell me. she must have told Rylee too cause Rylee was telling me to stop and that she isn't Jesus, she is Oprah. so then Sarah's status changes to "I have permission to kill Tyler (insert last name here) from Jesus/Oprah." so i read it, and next thing I know, I'm hugging my knees to my chest with the hood up covered in my brothers sweatshirt, crying my eyes out listening to depressing music. but because school is starting 2maro, i should go to sleep, but i don't want to. i may be up for awhile but i can't stay on  the computer all night. and i should mention, i do know tyler's last name, i just don't feel comfortable putting last names on the interweb. no offense interweb.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-4055836568390440908?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/4055836568390440908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/therapist-needs-therapy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4055836568390440908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4055836568390440908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/therapist-needs-therapy.html' title='The Therapist Needs Therapy.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-2859678272583425723</id><published>2009-08-31T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T12:53:01.435-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='you be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyrics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mayday parade'/><title type='text'>Sunsets and Silhouette Dreams</title><content type='html'>hi hello, it;s Monday. Wednesday school starts and well... who the hell knows how that is gonna go. today, I'm not going to bore the hall out of you by telling you about my boring little life. I'm jut going to put in the lyrics to one of my favorite songs in the universe. You Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground - Mayday Parade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And honestly, I have been begging for answers&lt;br /&gt;That you and only you can give to me&lt;br /&gt;A voice crying loud&lt;br /&gt;I've been crying for days now&lt;br /&gt;And as I start to run, I stop to breathe&lt;br /&gt;(And I was nearly scared to death)&lt;br /&gt;And I was nearly scared to death&lt;br /&gt;(Why you left in paragraphs)&lt;br /&gt;Why you left in paragraphs&lt;br /&gt;(The words were nearly over us)&lt;br /&gt;The words were nearly over us&lt;br /&gt;You stop and turn and grab your bags&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be here by the ocean&lt;br /&gt;Just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams&lt;br /&gt;All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes&lt;br /&gt;And every wave drags me to sea&lt;br /&gt;I could stand here for hours&lt;br /&gt;Just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make-believe?"&lt;br /&gt;With a tear in His voice, He said, "Son, that's the question."&lt;br /&gt;Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As hours move to minutes&lt;br /&gt;And minutes take longer to break&lt;br /&gt;I will be desperately awaiting&lt;br /&gt;But my tongue won't fall apart&lt;br /&gt;And we've been sitting here for hours&lt;br /&gt;All alone and in the dark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me think of to word it&lt;br /&gt;Is it too soon to say 'perfect'?&lt;br /&gt;If I could find another thirty minutes somewhere&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure everything would find me&lt;br /&gt;All that's left is just to sing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be here by the ocean&lt;br /&gt;Just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams&lt;br /&gt;All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes&lt;br /&gt;And every wave drags me to sea&lt;br /&gt;I could stand here for hours&lt;br /&gt;Just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make-believe?"&lt;br /&gt;With a tear in His voice, He said, "Son, that's the question."&lt;br /&gt;Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may never sail Virginia again&lt;br /&gt;And as this current moves slow for me&lt;br /&gt;This much you must know of me again&lt;br /&gt;And I'll have you know I'm scared to death&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me once again&lt;br /&gt;That you'll love me to the death&lt;br /&gt;And should I die, you swear that you will come for me&lt;br /&gt;As I fade away, you reach out your hand&lt;br /&gt;(And please don't let me go)&lt;br /&gt;And please don't let me go&lt;br /&gt;(And please don't let me go)&lt;br /&gt;And please don't let me go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be here by the ocean&lt;br /&gt;Just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams&lt;br /&gt;All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes&lt;br /&gt;And every wave drags me to sea&lt;br /&gt;I could stand here for hours&lt;br /&gt;Just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make-believe?"&lt;br /&gt;With a tear in His voice, He said, "Son, that's the question."&lt;br /&gt;Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?&lt;br /&gt;♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-2859678272583425723?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/2859678272583425723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/sunsets-and-silhouette-dreams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2859678272583425723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/2859678272583425723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/sunsets-and-silhouette-dreams.html' title='Sunsets and Silhouette Dreams'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-4463716559244363096</id><published>2009-08-30T08:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T10:55:42.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spoons Are The Least Threatning Utensil.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/Spq9F4kg7oI/AAAAAAAAACg/_KUFE0aY5WY/s1600-h/plaid+boots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/Spq9F4kg7oI/AAAAAAAAACg/_KUFE0aY5WY/s200/plaid+boots.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375817014002642562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpqkO1bjKhI/AAAAAAAAACY/4SkqR2swpf0/s1600-h/taking+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpqkO1bjKhI/AAAAAAAAACY/4SkqR2swpf0/s200/taking+5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375789679987862034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hi hello and good morning on the Sunday. it's still raining. well sorta. i have a lot to write about so this might be a long entry. well first of all last night i couldn't fall asleep until 1 cause i was scared that a giant spider was coming to eat me. i was scared cause outside, under the light,t here is a spider the size of your eye. maybe bigger. it has one of those big fat butts and it just gives me the hebbie jeeves. i would take a picture but i feel all sick and like I'm gonna throw up after looking at it so i am trying not to go outside as much as possible. okay now that the spider topic is covered, i will move on to what i just found out. huh. maybe this entry really won't be that long. well, when signing on, instead of seeing my email address in the sign in box, i see my older brother's. i wasn't sure if  wanted to scream, have a spazzum, or just sit there with my mouth open and stare. so again, I'm kinda like what the hell is going on. why does he have one. how long has he had one. and does he know which blog is mine. so in my mind i spazzumed. but i couldn't remind myself how to use my voice to scream. but now for the random stuff. a few months ago i saw this movie on TV called Taking 5. it has the click 5 in it who i never thought much of until this movie. The band plays a band called 5 Leo Rise. Their Characters are Ritchie, Mason, Scooter, K.K., and Nikolai.  The movie is basically about these two girls, Devon and Gabby. Devon and Gabby are like, the ultimate super fans and their favorite band is 5 Leo Rise. For this bad to play at their school, they have to collect a bunch of labels. So of course the girls collect more labels that i can count, but of course there is a twist. The labels get set on fire, along with this girl Kira's hair. So, the band can't come and they're in social siberia. so the girls and these two guys, Lincoln and Pete, kidnap 5 Leo rise. there is a bunch of twist to make it a little more dramatic. but really, all in all, it is a good movie. well anyway, i must go because i have to go to my dads for my grandpa cause it was his birthday last week. oh, and when i went shopping with my dad i got these high top boots. their black and red plaid. yeah, so bye bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-4463716559244363096?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/4463716559244363096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/spoons-are-least-threatning-utensil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4463716559244363096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/4463716559244363096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/spoons-are-least-threatning-utensil.html' title='Spoons Are The Least Threatning Utensil.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/Spq9F4kg7oI/AAAAAAAAACg/_KUFE0aY5WY/s72-c/plaid+boots.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-8671560835646896471</id><published>2009-08-29T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T14:29:20.424-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vampires'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twilight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facebook'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AFI'/><title type='text'>No More Peanut Butter Before Bed.</title><content type='html'>Hi hello. it's a Saturday. that's always fun :] unless u don't like the rain. if u don't then well, your screwed. i am aware i was not able to write yesterday and that was because of the presence of my brother. Sense the computer is in his room (not for much longer &gt;:] ) i have to find a way to come down when he is not home. that isn't often. But anyway, there really isn't much to type about. well, on my last post, i was talking about how Rylee came over, and then how Ryan decided that he could go. yeah, he ended up canceling...AGAIN. this time it was because there wasn't any good movies out. but really, he was just being stubborn. he wanted to see post grad: chick flick, G force: wtf?!, and then after given options he wanted to see aliens in the attic!! luckily, we were unable to go see the child movies because of the times.  and because harry potter was the only good movie out there, Ryan had to say no to it because well, he didn't give a reason. but you know, whatever. Thought i was successful in being able to persuade him to other options besides the movies. So i guess in the future, such as the month of October, we'll be hanging out at the art festival, and maybe when Halloween rolls around, maybe a haunted house or haunted corn maze. that will be... something new :]. also, just for the hell of it, we may just go to the mall to hang out. i guess you could say he is a work in progress. Lately I've been having these crazy dreams. and what makes them crazy is that i have been remembering them for the past 3 days. that usually doesn't happen. i usually wake up thinking i didn't have a dream cause i didn't remember them. The first one i remembered was just everyone who i don't want to lose in my life jumping off cliffs and then i followed after them. i woke up saying, does this mean we're going to be committing suicide one day?? then yesterday, my dream was me being chased by a bunch of vampire monsters. but the vampires were a mix of all the vampires I've red about in books. i talked like Carlise from Twilight, and i was being hunted down by these too goth looking, stereotypical vampires. i just remember one having the hair of the singer from AFI and another having the hair from a character from guitar hero. i  also saved my dog in the dream but my dog was the shape of a baby harbor seal. literally. confused the hell out of me. then last night, my dream was just me in a dark room. with my knees hugged to my chest and i was crying. it was a dark room, but there was a spotlight on me and the floor and walls around me were white. there were other people in the room, and every time one tried to enter the spotlight, they were like electrocuted and flung backwards. so i woke up and was like,...uhmm...yeah. O.o But because my mom wants to go on her facebook, i have to go. it's not right my mother having a facebook. parents shouldn't know how to use technology, well at least not my mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-8671560835646896471?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/8671560835646896471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-more-peanut-butter-before-bed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8671560835646896471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/8671560835646896471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-more-peanut-butter-before-bed.html' title='No More Peanut Butter Before Bed.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-6093834706860139376</id><published>2009-08-27T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T13:50:53.104-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laughing unconrollably'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harry potter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bill'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blondie'/><title type='text'>In A World Where Women Have Mustaches.</title><content type='html'>hi hello, from the person who is mildly irritated with herself. Okay so here is a movie update. yesterday, Ryan had "forgot" and made other plans. but today, his plans changed so now he can go. oh yippee!! now we can all go and no one has bitter feelings!! -.- so i guess Ryan thinks that we all have no lives cause he expects us to just pick right up where we left off and go to the movies. well news flash Blondie, maybe we can't go. maybe we made other plans cause you canceled the first time. so anyway, Ryan called me and i really hate myself but it just shows haw straight i am no matter how many crooked people there are in my family. (3 people.) basically, i turned to mush in his hands. Grrr...... this is why i call myself a hoe. so now, we're picking out a movie and because at first Ryan wanted to see post grad which i laughed uncontrollably when he told me that, then he wanted to see g force. then aliens in the attic. i couldn't breathing and my makeup was running. i almost peed myself. well that would be icky XP But in other news, Rylee came over yesterday. :]  first we watched this my video yearbook from 5th grade which the put horrible songs in. then she drew all over my calendar. it;s very pretty :]  then we decided to move to my brothers room. I played guitar hero and Rylee played on the computer because she was told to. :] then after my brother came home with his friends, we retreated from their presence, back to my room where Rylee again, drew on my calendar until her mom came. then after that, i watched George Lopez and the Nanny. My dream was weird though. Ryan was o a stage acting like a comedian and i was actually laughing at his jokes. i woke up to the doorbell. at the doorbell, was a man named bill. bill mistook me for my mother. i don't like bill. &gt;:] but because we're deciding on which movie to see, thought it will mostly like be harry potter, i have to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-6093834706860139376?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/6093834706860139376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/in-world-where-women-have-mustaches.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6093834706860139376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/6093834706860139376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/in-world-where-women-have-mustaches.html' title='In A World Where Women Have Mustaches.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-3667751805809684906</id><published>2009-08-26T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T11:58:19.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Really Don't Understand Why I Put My Trust In You.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpV8Vp6AkSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/d5d4LXJYrbg/s1600-h/Sad+Girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpV8Vp6AkSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/d5d4LXJYrbg/s200/Sad+Girl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374338441804812578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I've made a decision. because i always feel so shitty after talking and thinking about Ryan, I've decided to kick myself out of the movie group.that's all i wanted to write. but i don't think i;m gonna continue being friends with Ryan if i have to change myself. i don't meet his expectations, he has too many conditions. if he keeps acting like this and blowing off his friends, he isn't gonna have many more. okay, my entry is done. and the girl int hat picture isn't me. i got it off Google.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-3667751805809684906?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/3667751805809684906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-really-dont-understand-why-i-put-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3667751805809684906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/3667751805809684906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-really-dont-understand-why-i-put-my.html' title='I Really Don&apos;t Understand Why I Put My Trust In You.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpV8Vp6AkSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/d5d4LXJYrbg/s72-c/Sad+Girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1266774132875928187</id><published>2009-08-26T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T08:19:07.523-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my chemical romance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i don&apos;t love you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='plain white t&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disapointed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='revenge'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inglorius basterds'/><title type='text'>Why Don't You Try Being A Big Boy For Once?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpVKP2n1X7I/AAAAAAAAACA/MQcgPUIuMJQ/s1600-h/photoshopped+ryan.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 143px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpVKP2n1X7I/AAAAAAAAACA/MQcgPUIuMJQ/s200/photoshopped+ryan.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374283366557638578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hi hello. today is Wednesday.isn't that joyful. not to be a big rain cloud if your having a good day but I'm still irritated with Ryan. he really needs to stop avoiding me. i feel like hurting him. and that's not a good thing cause i have 3 older brothers and 2 older sisters. my mom just scares the shit out of anyone by yelling at them and my dad used to be a bouncer and he once pulled one of my brothers out of the window of a car... (no my life isn't easy) now that i have talked to Ryan, I'm still irritated but he forgot all about 2maro so it looks like we're not gong. and now that isn't sunk in and coincidentally a sad song is playing, am now upset in a sad way. now  really am a rain cloud. I'm just kinda... grr.... but you know what, he needs to just. no if he doesn't want to go to the movies, he need to actually tell us instead of pretending that he forgot. yesterday he went to see inglorious bastards with joey.i;m just so pissed//irritated with him that i don't know hat to say so if this entry is a bunch of gibberish and doesn't' make any sense, i have a reason. u can see in that picture that is Ryan but lately the horns and tail feel appropriate. it is mean, and I'm sure I'll soon regret it I'm just kinda,..... i can't even put it into words. i started this entry thinking i was gonna write how much Ryan just needs so swallow his pride and go to the movies no matter how much he doesn't want to and try being a big boy instead of a fussy, stubborn 3 year old. how he should actually try acting his age. but now i just feel like. you know that feeling, that u get after you break up with someone, or feel like your losing someone, like your losing connection, i just feel, somehow, disconnected. maybe i should start adding song tot he entries cause right now i feel like I Don't Love You by My Chemical Romance fits this one and yesterday i said Revenge by Plain White T's. now that i feel horrible i feel like i should be writing things like, Ryan wasn't really avoiding us, he just forgot which doesn't really make the situation any better but u know, i;m not a fan of staying angry and holding grudges. but really, right now i;m just fed up with everything. i just need a day to myself. i may not write later, or 2maro cause i feel this way. and Friday I'm going shopping with my dad cause he canceled today. nothing new. why i got my hopes up is beyond ,e. well I'm leaving... for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1266774132875928187?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1266774132875928187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-dont-you-try-being-big-boy-for-once.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1266774132875928187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1266774132875928187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-dont-you-try-being-big-boy-for-once.html' title='Why Don&apos;t You Try Being A Big Boy For Once?'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpVKP2n1X7I/AAAAAAAAACA/MQcgPUIuMJQ/s72-c/photoshopped+ryan.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6927276260006590759.post-1408143712927319633</id><published>2009-08-25T14:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T16:09:12.983-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='special'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='conversation'/><title type='text'>Never Piss Off Anything That Can Bleed For Five Days and Live.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpRZ0ZZVTII/AAAAAAAAAB4/fok1jGyU38I/s1600-h/ryan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpRZ0ZZVTII/AAAAAAAAAB4/fok1jGyU38I/s200/ryan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374019012065053826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hi hello again, i know i wrote earlier, but i told u i was gonna write again. the only difference is taht now it is 530 instead of 11. i just felt the need to write about how much i am pissed off at ryan at the moment. Ryan, the so called, "alpha" of our movie group. but u know, by calling someone alpha is a sign of respect. but here is the problem with calling him an alpha, i do not feel like i should respect him. i feel like i should hit him very hard with something heavy. I'm not sure why i am so pissed at him at the moment, oh wait, i do know. *if you have the song Revenge by Plain White T's, put it on, and click repeat until you are done reading this* Well the last time we went to the movies, as soon as we left, i knew he had a horriable time. he isn't like rylee and i where we just like going out. For Rylee, she likes going because of her love. I like going becasue, well once i do somethign once, i usually want to do it again. and well casue i'm a horriable terriable person. (i often call myself a hoe//slut becasue i love tyler [said his name] but i still think other guys are cute and stuff.[ex. Mitchel Gardner, Sean Mutlow, Aaron Dufficy, Gary Duval and then one more that i don't like to admit{i only admit those names becasue, well they aren't well known and i'm not ashamed}]) i hate to say//type it but i like going out in a group with Rylee and all those guys. yup, saying that disgusted myself.but not with a certian few that come as tag alongs or Rylee's love. and the part saying i like going out with Rylee is trure becasue well,she is my cousin. Probably. But when talking to Rylee on AIM we were trying to figure out which movie we were gonna see. It started by saying that ryan probably wants to see Inglorius Basterds. Issue: this movie is over 2 hours long. Rylee and i cannot sit throught a movie for that long with Brad Pitt and what ever the hell Joey and ryan will be doing. *shudder* So, u know, i'll just type the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;Me: i'll bet you any money ryan doesn't even wanna go.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: no crap he doesn't want to go.&lt;br /&gt;Me: knew it. we were boring last time.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: If he doesn't choose something we'e stuck with District 9. yyyaaaayyyyy. no. did you know it;s about aliens?&lt;br /&gt;Me: aliens aren't my favorite subject. seeing as how my uncle almost killed himself countless numbers of times becasuse he forgets his meds and goes to area 51 to meet his best friend Condor.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: lmfao okay. i don't like aliens eaither. but apparently austin does so uhhh... if ryan pick's the hangover, i'm on his side. &lt;br /&gt;Me: the hangover isn't playing at cinema world anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: fuuuuccckkk!&lt;br /&gt;Me: yeah so we gotta find a sifferent movie. knowing ryan'll he'll probably wanna see inglorius bastards.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: omg thts what i said!!! :D&lt;br /&gt;Me: lol, cousins.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: now thats exactly what i said. lmao. cousins XD&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------TimeWarp-----------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Me: Do you really think we can sit throught 2 hours and 32 minutes of Brad Pitt and whatever the hell Joey and Ryan will be doing? you know what, screw it, i don't even wanna go anymore. Ryan's just,...Grr....I'm having one of those moments where i regret ever liking him. -.-&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: Uhm i always hate him. Doesn't matter what he does he always screws it up. and no i don't think i can sit throught that. i think i'd strangle someone and beign irritated at austin, it'll probably be him.&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------MiniTimeWarp-----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: and i'm not in the mood for shit.&lt;br /&gt;Me:so are we canceling?&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: Becasue i'm pissed at a shithead of a kid? pfft no! &lt;br /&gt;Me:not just becasue of that but becasue we;re so pissed at ryan and ur irritated with austin. and joey well,ehhh.... hes not a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: I'm not pissed at ryan. i just hate him. i'm like, always mad at austin so no big deal. and joey can just die in the back of the theater.&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------MiniTimeWarp-----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: but we really do need to figure out what movie.&lt;br /&gt;Me: eaither we say, screw you ryan, go fuck jake, or we tell ryan to pick.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: i don't feel like the movie cause well, someone will be mad about it.&lt;br /&gt;Me: yeah,... omgosh. u know what just popped into my head? it's something my dad said. "never piss of anything that can bleed for five days and live. " i died laughing. i guess he learned that from my mom who once smashed a phone on top of his head.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee:lmfao. thats histerical.&lt;br /&gt;Me: exactly. maybe we should smash a phone on ryan's head. maybe then he'll understand.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: sadly, i don't think that'd help. he'd probably just go on a rampage.&lt;br /&gt;Me: lol. ur right.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: i tend to be right when we're talking about that...thing.&lt;br /&gt;Me: i'm guessing the thing is the blonde person we're irritated with at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;Rylee: yes of course.(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so you can tell that we were pretty irritated with him. well i am moving on from this subject. that whole conversation kinda describes how i feel right now. but whatever. the next time i'll talk to ryan he'll probly jsut piss me off again. well ryan should feel special. he has a whole entry about him. too bad it is becasue i'm angry with him &gt;:]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6927276260006590759-1408143712927319633?l=passionatecrime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/feeds/1408143712927319633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/never-piss-off-anything-that-can-bleed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1408143712927319633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6927276260006590759/posts/default/1408143712927319633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://passionatecrime.blogspot.com/2009/08/never-piss-off-anything-that-can-bleed.html' title='Never Piss Off Anything That Can Bleed For Five Days and Live.'/><author><name>Alyssa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13942172952455941594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npNT1eJrzik/TiNY3Ik_OMI/AAAAAAAAAOk/4cvJPIr4Avc/s220/Snapshot_20110628_1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ChwCyPvXZYs/SpRZ0ZZVTII/AAAAAAAAAB4/fok1jGyU38I/s72-c/ryan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
