<?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-530682649118045445</id><updated>2011-07-08T16:01:19.140+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuffs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-3290001387881938706</id><published>2011-05-21T02:07:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T02:13:45.248+07:00</updated><title type='text'>It started with a day-runner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1A2N-HPBgd4/Tda9WAS4eII/AAAAAAAAAKk/43VpvbQXP6o/s1600/IMG_6482g.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1A2N-HPBgd4/Tda9WAS4eII/AAAAAAAAAKk/43VpvbQXP6o/s200/IMG_6482g.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608878571670501506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Whoa! Google Chrome has crashed." &lt;/strong&gt;that damn line poped out right in front of my pale face. What I've written for you completely disappeared without a trace. I couldn't believe it happened to me. So now I'm starting again, trying to recall the sentences have been written out...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;I've got the idea of creating this silly stuff yesterday when I was filling my day-runner with coming activities. The thinking about your flight came out of the blue then in the list "ten things I will do this month" i added "writing Jin a letter". So now it seems to be the right time I should do it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;Look back at the first time we met, how did it come? We both now dun visit back that place but I still remember how i spent that stage. not that wonderful yet i appreciate much cuz i was able to confide my life and share joys as well as sorrows. You're one of them but you're not like them. You're kind of timid and reserved, just like me though we choose different ways to express ourselves. You're type of emotinal and faithful, so am I though I don't make a fuss when I'm not satisfactory. We are similar outside but different inside, I think so. Anyway, I have intention of making friends with that type, the problem is how long will it last? I have no idea, it hinges upon you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;What our friendship based on? the answer is uncountable cuz this 'relationship' [simple meaning] is abstract in some ways. I dun wanna find any solution. so just take it easy, don't mess everything up. i never force myself to believe in fate yet life forces me. I suppose when one person comes to your life, he won't easily leave you, even there's no talking no meeting, you guys cannot let each other fall into history. You cannot ever delete memories &amp;lt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="cursor: pointer;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://rin-reita-for.deviantart.com/art/Memories-177884604&amp;gt;"&gt;http://rin-reita-for.deviantart.com/art/Memories-177884604&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-3290001387881938706?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=10150280627800593' title='It started with a day-runner'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/3290001387881938706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=3290001387881938706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/3290001387881938706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/3290001387881938706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2011/05/whoa-google-chrome-has-crashed.html' title='It started with a day-runner'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1A2N-HPBgd4/Tda9WAS4eII/AAAAAAAAAKk/43VpvbQXP6o/s72-c/IMG_6482g.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-975806022528098351</id><published>2011-05-21T02:06:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T02:07:22.747+07:00</updated><title type='text'>William Shakespeare - Sonnet #18</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(255, 153, 255); line-height: 16px; "&gt;Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Thou art more lovely and more temperate:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: arial; line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;And every fair from fair sometime declines,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;But thy eternal Summer shall not fade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;When in eternal lines to time thou growest:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-975806022528098351?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=206534000592' title='William Shakespeare - Sonnet #18'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/975806022528098351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=975806022528098351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/975806022528098351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/975806022528098351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2011/05/william-shakespeare-sonnet-18.html' title='William Shakespeare - Sonnet #18'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-7116390707628155682</id><published>2010-09-20T10:07:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T10:10:01.105+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Furin festival [18-19.09.2010]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-7116390707628155682?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/7116390707628155682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=7116390707628155682' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/7116390707628155682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/7116390707628155682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2010/09/furin-festival-18-19092010.html' title='Furin festival [18-19.09.2010]'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-2491738902758987093</id><published>2010-03-26T09:40:00.008+07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T09:54:14.005+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Có những góc khuất...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wgNaHR4EI/AAAAAAAAAH8/dNtGZUWZH2I/s1600/IMG_0019.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wf8l4_W6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/x7oQTg1oLC0/s1600/IMG_6662.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wfLZugqII/AAAAAAAAAHk/sPoUXk9t34o/s1600/IMG_7109.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wfLZugqII/AAAAAAAAAHk/sPoUXk9t34o/s200/IMG_7109.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452767529583814786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Thời gian chưa lâu, cảm xúc không dạt dào, tình cảm của tôi dành cho trường cấp ba là một tình yêu be bé nho nhỏ, nơi mà tất cả kỉ niệm mới chỉ là bắt đầu. Giống như em bé bắt đầu bước những bước đi chập chững đầu đời, tôi cũng thế. Tình cảm ấy mới nảy sinh, nhẹ nhàng đứng bên cạnh những tình cảm cố hữu mà tôi đã dành cho khoảng thời gian trước đây khi ở trường cấp một, cấp hai. Tôi đã sợ, trái tim mình chưa đủ lớn để yêu, nhưng chắc là tôi nhầm, bởi vì giờ đây, tôi đã thấy, không phải sự thay đổi nào cũng là không tốt, tình cảm ấy ngày một lớn dần lên.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6we1d5-v6I/AAAAAAAAAHc/afKK3lowkkY/s200/3524310492_8d9830df15_b.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;    Ấn tượng đầu tiên của tôi là sao ngôi trường này lại có nhiều cây cao và già đến vậy! Ngay từ lần đầu bước vào, những tán cây xanh đổ bóng xuống cả một góc sân trường khiến cho tôi cảm thấy dễ chịu, thân cây cao và lớn như muốn làm chỗ dựa cho những con người bỡ ngỡ và lạc lõng, cành vươn dài rộng tựa muốn che chở, làm vững lòng cho bất cứ ai. Đó là những trưa trời nắng, tôi trên đường đi học mà cảm thấy thật nóng bức mệt mỏi. Rồi khi bước chân vào trường, sau những sải bước dài nhanh chóng cho tránh cái nắng gắt mà đến lớp, tôi lại tần ngần đi chậm lại. Ừ phải, tôi đang đi dưới những tán cây ấy. Nắng xuyên qua kẽ lá chiếu tia sáng nhỏ của mình in hằn xuống sân gồ ghề. Gió lại nhè nhẹ và xao động cho tán cành đung đưa. Những đốm sáng nhỏ trên sân cứ dập dìu, chậm rãi. Nắng rất mát. Có lẽ khi nắng xuyên qua những ô tròn tròn méo méo ấy, hòa với sắc xanh sẫm, lại nhẹ nhàng hơn. Rồi những hôm sinh hoạt ngoài sân trường, ghế nhựa xếp thành hàng thành lớp, có khi là văn nghệ, có khi là đọc kế hoạch hay thông báo của trường, nhưng tôi nhiều lúc vẫn vô tình ngẩng đầu lên. Vẫn biết trên đầu là những tán lá, nhưng không lần nào là tôi cảm nhận giống lần nào. Có khi tôi thấy lòng mình thật mát rượi lúc bắt gặp màu xanh đậm ấy, có khi lại thấy như thiên nhiên đang dang tay rộng ra bao bọc lại bản thân mình, và đôi lúc là cảm tưởng như không gian quanh đây đang rộng hơn, rộng hơn nữa. Trường tôi không lớn, nhưng mỗi lần ngồi thâm thấp dưới sân, ngước lên nhìn, cả ngôi trường trông to và đẹp hơn rất nhiều. Màu trời xanh biển nhạt làm nền cho tia nắng vàng xuyên qua màu xanh lá cây tuyệt vời. Bên cạnh đấy tôi cũng là một người rất thích chụp ảnh. Chính vì vậy mà tôi cũng hay để ý sự thú vị của mỗi loài cây được trồng trong trường. Hôm trước đến lớp khá sớm nên tranh thủ tôi ra sân sau ngắm bí mật nho nhỏ vừa phát hiện: một cây sưa. Vốn dĩ yêu loài cây lá xanh non có bông trắng muốt, luôn được người ta ví như "thiếu nữ của mùa xuân" này, nên tôi luôn muốn tìm loài cây đó ở những nơi thân thuộc bởi mong được ngắm nhìn những bông đó suốt mùa sưa nở vẻn vẹn trong vài tuần tháng hai tháng ba. Niềm vui chạm đến trái tim tôi khi mà đôi mắt cận quên kính cứ nheo nheo nhìn nhìn rồi tìm tìm cuối cũng cũng đã phát hiện ra cành hoa nở muộn duy nhất còn sót lại. Vẫn thế, một màu xanh mát và trắng không thể lẫn vào đâu được. Tôi rủ cô bạn cùng lớp ra xem. Cùng cười. Vậy là lại thấy trường mình đẹp thêm nữa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wf8l4_W6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/x7oQTg1oLC0/s200/IMG_6662.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Có những góc khuất mà ít người có cơ hội nhìn thấy nhưng khi nhìn từ một vị trí một thời điểm nào đó lại trở nên lạ lùng. Lớp tôi học tầng một, cửa sổ nhìn ra khu nhà cũ kĩ, có chiếc cửa gỗ sơn xanh đóng im ỉm suốt ngày, chẳng hiểu sao mấy hôm nay lại được ai đó mở bung ra, dễ dàng nhìn thẳng vào bên trong, trông tò mò. Hàng cây ở sân sau dùng cho tiết học thể dục thường ngày nhìn bụi bặm vô cảm thế mà mấy tháng vừa rồi, chỉ cần vài đợt gió hơi mạnh là từng chiếc là thi nhau, rủ nhau rụng xuống chéo qua mặt sân cát cuốn bụi mù mà nhìn vẫn thấy thật thích. Từng đợt lá đổ, xô vào đất, gió cuốn lá lên bay vô định trong vài giây rồi biến mất ra khỏi tầm mắt. Ô cửa sổ không có cánh của lớp học bỏ hoang cũng nơi ấy, là chỗ mà nhiều lúc đến sớm, tôi lại lặng lẽ ra ngồi lên trên bậc cửa, tìm kiếm thêm những điều kì lạ mới nữa. Lúc nghe có tiếng đập bóng xuống sân hay tiếng nói chuyện, thì tôi hiểu lúc đó mình nên quay về lớp. Lại nhớ đến vài hôm trước đấy nữa, khi băng qua sân trường, nhìn xuống chân, hình như lá rụng hơi nhiều so với mọi hôm. Lại đến tháng ba rồi, lại rục rịch học hành cho học kì hai. Lại sắp thi, lại sắp hè. Mỗi hình ảnh trong trường gắn liền với từng giai đoạn trong mấy tháng vừa qua, của năm đầu là học sinh nơi đây.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wgh6a1T7I/AAAAAAAAAIE/CsYmSij9d8k/s200/IMG_6661.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Đôi khi tôi có suy nghĩ là, trường cấp một, hai, hay ba thì cũng vậy. Ta chuyển địa điểm học, nhưng không hề chuyển trái tim đi đâu cả. Bất cứ nơi nào chúng ta ở bên nhau, giúp đỡ nhau thì nơi đó là trường. Đấy là nơi có khu nhà bốn tầng các lớp học quét vôi vàng. Đấy là chỗ mà có lối đi từ lớp ra sân khi tan học, nắng vàng hắt bóng từng bước chân. Đấy là chỗ mà có dọc hành lang chỉ vỏn vẹn ba lớp học còn lại thì là phòng hành chính hết, có muốn nói chuyện cũng phải nói nhỏ vì sợ ban giám hiệu, có muốn tổ chức liên hoan thì 99% cũng bị dẹp. Đấy là chỗ mà có cầu thang dẫn lên tầng hai, thi thoảng có việc phải lên, lại gặp đứa bạn cũ, lại chào nhau. Đấy là chỗ mà có lớp 10B10 nằm ngay cạnh lớp 10B11, tức là gần chỗ để xe đạp của trường. Tức là dẫn đến nhiều hôm, lớp người ta xách cặp lấy xe đi về hết, khoảng sân trống trơn không một bóng xe, còn mình vẫn phải ở lại học nốt. Cũng tức là mỗi khi có cuộc vui gì tổ chức, các bạn khác đi qua nhìn vào lớp mình mà ghen tị với sự vui vẻ đang tràn ngập trong đây. Đấy là chỗ mà có một tập thể lớp toàn con gái, xuất hiện đúng bốn bạn nam. Để rồi ai cũng tưởng rằng là lớp ngoan lắm, đến khi dạy xong mới biết nữ nói chuyện còn ác hơn cả nam. Đó là chỗ có dãy bàn trong cùng gần cửa sổ mà suốt mấy tháng tôi ngôi ở đấy. Để mà một hôm trời mưa, rồi tạnh, rồi nắng chiếu, rồi cầu vồng mọc. Thật là đẹp. Nhưng cũng chỉ có dãy bàn ngồi đó mới thấy được. Để mà một hôm trời gió rét, mặc mấy lần áo len mà vẫn thấy buốt, tự nhiên cô bạn tổ bên cạnh lại bảo mở cửa ra kêu nóng. Rồi từng đợt gió phả vào mặt, cả những giọt nước mưa buốt thấu. Đó là chỗ mà mặt bàn cô bạn bàn đầu, bị phủ kín bởi những hình vẽ hoạt hình rất ngộ nghĩnh. Mấy lần định xóa cơ mà tiếc. Đó là chỗ tôi ngồi hồi trước, cái hôm bị đổi chỗ cứ ủ rũ, buồn. Và, đó cũng chính là chỗ mà không hiểu sao dù có chuyển đi đâu thì cô bạn cùng bàn vẫn là người đấy, chẳng thay đổi. Là người luôn đến lớp cười tươi, luôn chọc mọi người, luôn tham gia vào hầu hết các cuộc vui với bạn bè. Duy chỉ có mình tôi đã nói rằng, nụ cười của bạn ấy chưa bao giờ là nụ cười thực sự, nó chỉ là trạng thái các cơ mặt được kéo dãn ra sao cho thành hình một cách cố gắng, cái nhếch miệng gượng gạo, còn từ trước đến nay chưa bao giờ cô bạn ấy biết vui thực sự là gì. Bỗng nhiên thấy mình gần gũi hơn với những con người mà mấy tháng trước còn chả biết nhau là ai.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wgNaHR4EI/AAAAAAAAAH8/dNtGZUWZH2I/s200/IMG_0019.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Hơn bảy tháng trôi qua, cũng tức là hơn nửa năm rồi, tôi nghĩ về ngôi trường mới với trái tim và cái đầu đầy những điều phức tạp đồng thời cũng là những kỉ niệm vô cùng đẹp. Quá một tháng nữa thôi là kì thi lại đến, là lại tạm xa bạn bè. Là một lứa học sinh lớp 11 lại chuẩn bị học hành cho cả một năm cuối cấp đày căng thẳng phía trước. Là những anh chị lớp 12, vừa tập trung ôn thi đại học, vừa lắng lo cho cuốn lưu bút còn nhét ngăn bàn chờ đến giờ nghỉ lại viết tiếp. Là buổi lễ tổng kết mà hầu như là dành trọn không gian thời gian cho những con người sắp trưởng thành ấy. Kỉ niệm dành cho trường cứ đầy ắp trong tim. Là có chùm bóng bay rực rỡ lại nhẹ nhàng nâng mình lên cùng với trời xanh, bay cao cao mãi như những ước mơ, hoài bão của từng người học sinh ngày hôm nay đang ở đây, đang học dưới mái trường THPT Lê Quý Đôn này.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wfh2LJ1QI/AAAAAAAAAHs/KqjqSKRzS94/s200/IMG_7110.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/530682649118045445-2491738902758987093?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/2491738902758987093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=2491738902758987093' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2491738902758987093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2491738902758987093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2010/03/co-nhung-goc-khuat.html' title='Có những góc khuất...'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/S6wfLZugqII/AAAAAAAAAHk/sPoUXk9t34o/s72-c/IMG_7109.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-2071852816821044981</id><published>2009-12-28T10:36:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T10:50:59.863+07:00</updated><title type='text'>hidden love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/Szgqxg8GqiI/AAAAAAAAAHU/FoUEUdec84c/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/Szgqxg8GqiI/AAAAAAAAAHU/FoUEUdec84c/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420129181684378146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Georgia, serif;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-style: italic; line-height: 14px; font-family:arial;font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;That's a photo I did take in my classroom. A boy was holding a pen and teased his deskmate who was sleeping. She might not know what happned around but I think she would know that there was someone loved her. It was my last year in secondary school, everything needed saving like this. A moment, might be very silly, would last forever in my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-2071852816821044981?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/2071852816821044981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=2071852816821044981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2071852816821044981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2071852816821044981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/12/hidden-love.html' title='hidden love'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/Szgqxg8GqiI/AAAAAAAAAHU/FoUEUdec84c/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-648919920954977224</id><published>2009-11-29T14:41:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T14:42:38.357+07:00</updated><title type='text'>3  chấm</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;Chắc có lẽ em sẽ không bao giờ gặp lại anh, chắc có lẽ em sẽ không bao giờ có lần thứ hai thích một con người trong cái cách tình cờ đến như thế. Một buổi sáng mùa xuân, trong ngôi trường mà chúng ta đã từng học…&lt;br /&gt;Em sẽ không kể lại chuyện, bởi nó đơn giản và ngốc nghếch đáng tội nghiệp như chính em. Chỉ là một con bé lớp 8 đi thích một anh sao đỏ lớp trên. Không vì đẹp trai bởi em đã chẳng nhìn rõ mặt anh dưới chiếc mũ màu đỏ ngày hôm ấy và cũng không vì học giỏi bởi em đâu biết ai để hỏi chuyện này. Xin cho em giấu lí do vì sao, em sợ mọi người cười mình, nó vớ vẩn quá mức.&lt;br /&gt;Nhưng sao kể từ hôm ấy trở đi em không bao giờ có thể gặp lại anh nữa. Biết rõ lớp anh học mà không dám lên tìm, biết rõ anh luôn đội mũ đỏ mà mỗi khi thấy trên sân bóng dáng màu sắc ấy em lại quay đi. Chắc tình cảm này nhẹ nhàng quá, nhẹ đến nỗi mà biết chỉ còn mấy tháng nữa thôi anh sẽ ra trường, nhưng em vẫn câm lặng.&lt;br /&gt;Lớp 8, em chưa lớn, tuy đã biết những gì thuộc về tâm tư của một thiếu nữ. Tức là biết mong, nhớ, ngẩn ngơ, lơ đãng, và biết khóc thầm. &lt;br /&gt;Cũng vào lức ấy, em bắt đầu yêu cây sưa. Cây hoa trắng tinh, lá xanh mướt, chỉ nở vào khoảng tháng 2 hoặc 3. Hôm đó, em tình cờ ngước lên nhìn thì phát hiện ra màu trắng ấy. Em vui sướng gọi đám bạn nhưng không mấy ai chú ý nhiều. Thế là từ hôm đó cho đển hết mùa sưa, em cứ đứng trên lan can ngắm nhìn hoa vươn những sức sống mãnh liệt nhất, trong từng búp lá xanh ngắt, trong từng bông hoa trằng không mang mùi hắc nồng của Sữa. Cây sưa, mọc duyên dáng, thầm kín, không báo trước cho ai biết, để ta một hôm tình cờ ngẩng lên …. mới có niềm vui diệu kỳ đến vậy.&lt;br /&gt;Mùa sưa qua, hè rục rịch đến, và cũng lại sắp thi học kì. Và cũng lại sắp một khóa học sinh nữa ra trường. Không phải em, nhưng là anh !&lt;br /&gt;Ngày bế giảng cuối năm học, văn nghệ vui lắm, ai cũng cười rất thoải mái, em tất nhiên chẳng khác. Nhưng hôm đó em ở lại muộn hơn. Hmm một học sinh lớp 8 thì ở lại làm gì chứ ? Em ở lại để chào TẠM biệt những người hôm nay ra đi, ngày mai sẽ quay trở lại, chắc thế !&lt;br /&gt;______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Năm sau, rồi thì em cũng vậy. Có chờ hoa sưa, hoa có đến, nhưng muộn hơn và buồn hơn năm ngoái. Anh đi lâu rồi, em lại bận rộn với nhưng cảm xúc khác, tuy rằng thỉnh thoảng vẫn nhớ về anh. Anh đội mũ đỏ, em vẫn nhớ. Hoa sưa màu trằng, em vẫn chờ. Cả ký ức về trường cấp 2, em chưa lúc nào dám quên. Em ghét tất cả, vì đã bắt em phải khóc mỗi khi nghĩ tới. Em yêu tất cả, bởi trái tim em lúc này chưa bao giờ dành cho cấp 3. Năm đó lớp 9, em không ở lại muộn vì còn phải đi cùng cả lớp, bọn nó giục em đi.&lt;br /&gt;Em chợt nhớ ra, hôm chia tay cuối, dù có cố thế nào chăng nữa em cùng chẳng khóc được, lại còn bảo bọn bạn là :”có hâm mới khóc, mọi khi bọn mày cười nhiều lắm cơ mà, thôi ra chụp ảnh với tao đi, chụp ảnh là phải cười đấy nhé ! :D”. Đấy, em đã nói thế, mà không biết rằng, chỉ mấy tháng sau thôi, khi mà chẳng còn ai nhớ đến trường, lớp nữa thì em lại ngồi nhà khóc rưng rức một mình.&lt;br /&gt;Em mới thấy tiếc, hôm đấy sao không khóc đi, sao không nói “tao yêu bọn mày” đi mà cứ ngồi cười, một nụ cười quá gượng mà em không thể làm gì hơn được.&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em cứ tưởng em mới biết cây sưa, em cứ tưởng em mới thích anh, em cứ tưởng em mới vào lớp 9, em cứ tưởng em mới chia tay cấp 2. À ừ, cũng “mới”, cũng chỉ khoảng 2 năm gì ấy thôi mà. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mong là 20/11 năm nay em lại được gặp cô và bạn, mong là mùa xuân năm nay em lại được tận hưởng những phút giây đợi chờ hoa sưa nở. Mong là, em lại được bé lại, em lại được gặp anh.&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/530682649118045445-648919920954977224?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/648919920954977224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=648919920954977224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/648919920954977224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/648919920954977224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/11/3-cham.html' title='3  chấm'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-5855671427423044709</id><published>2009-11-29T14:25:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T14:26:35.022+07:00</updated><title type='text'>let the past be the past :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(44, 54, 53); "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt; Everyday, I expected he said he loved me. But why was it so long? Or he just considered me as a little sister and best friend ? Finally, I said I love him. Suddenly, his face is embarrassing. Wind blew through my hair, coldly. I couldn't feel warmth in my heart even though he was standing right here. Nothing had changed. He still said nothing, looked into the distance. I touched his hand, my eyes looked as if they wanted to cry. Then he said :"Can I say that I haven't loved you yet?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha, I was such an dreamy girl. I must have known that he was not my man. He was born for hot girls, not a silly and poor girl like me. I could go out with him so many times, it was totally a dream. That was too bad when people didn't want to dream any more. But it was even worse when people couldn't express their love. And I never wanted to be a mute doll, never wanted to have a mute love and never wanted to be refused.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, he said he loved me [truly]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day after day, I was with you and sweet words, warm hugs, ...... there was no stronger words to describe our love. Just know that you loved me, I loved you. We loved each other. It was enough! Every night, I thought about our past, present and even future. What would happened ? I didn't know though I was sure I would love you forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____It was a long time I couldn't meet him, sms or make a phone call______&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, he sent me a sms and made an appointment with me on tomorrow evening. He hesitated :"I have some important things to say with you." What were your important things? Met him, I couldn't notice any eagerness in him as the past. He took me to a yard where had a swing. It was many years I hadn't seen any swing. I remember the childhood when in my mind there had only parents and funny things. The distance between two stages of one person, it was so long that my memories had already been away from me, no way to get back. I need to cry.&lt;br /&gt;Then we sat down. He asked: " Why do you love me ?". What a funny question ! I had written the answer by my mind but couldn't make a sound. I still answered him. Next, I asked him the same. But he didn't answer. Never did and never will. Why not ? Why didn't you answer me? I really wanted to scream. Tears which I was preventing from dropping, were falling down my face. He continued making silent moments and gave me no answer. Instead, he said to me another saying which I couldn't believe in my ears until now :"If an emotion in our heart suddenly disappears, what will happen ?" I didn't understand. "If I don't love you anymore, what will....." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't hear anything and my eyes became blurer. Tears helped me didn't saw him. I hated him even though I loved him. Why did you say this ? Then he wiped the tears on my face. After all, I kissed him once more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(44, 54, 53); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;The last....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-5855671427423044709?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/5855671427423044709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=5855671427423044709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/5855671427423044709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/5855671427423044709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/11/let-past-be-past-d.html' title='let the past be the past :D'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-7289059144659050950</id><published>2009-11-29T14:20:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T14:24:53.854+07:00</updated><title type='text'>just my story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;          It was nearly the New Year, the time when I always went out to buy stuff for my parents. They were busy and wanted me to help them decorate our house. But this day I went out with my classmates, we hadn't seen each other for two weeks. One of my girl friends suggested having lunch. When I was telling some funny stories, my classmates were laughing, there was a boy that came next to me. He said that he wanted to make friends with us. After the introduction, we knew he went to this cafeteria with a group. All of them are in grade 11. At this moment, I notice a special boy, who was sitting behind the others. It wouldn't be anything to remember, if this night, I didn't receive an SMS from a strange number. I learned many things about this stranger after asking him some questions. He was the person who I noticed at first sight in the group I had met this morning. Now remember, he was also the most handsome boy I had ever seen. From this night on, we talked many times and sometimes we dated, sometimes I went to his house which is such a great villa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;  "I remember every night and every morning. You always send me an SMS and wished me a nice dream, a nice day. All were English. Of course I understood but I had difficulty in replying to all in English. Then I asked my deskmate. These days were really a dream for me. Every SMS I had gotten was a note of the tune which I considered as the love song for my own life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I remember every time you came over to my house and picked me up. We went everywhere. Park, restaurant, cinema, your school, ... You made me think that though I was only a fifteen-year-old girl and only in grade 9 of secondary school, I had the opportunity to fall in love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I remember. It was a beautiful afternoon. I come to your villa. The first time you invited me to go into your room. The largeness and luxury had all surprised me. I had specially noticed your photo collections on the wall. When I was watching them, you secretly come towards me, stayed close behind me. Suddenly you kissed me. A wet and hesitated kiss - my first kiss. It didn't last too long but my heart couldn't stop beating faster. There has no permanent love, it only was a permanent moment of love. I think it will ever and forever be my permanent moment"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-7289059144659050950?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/7289059144659050950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=7289059144659050950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/7289059144659050950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/7289059144659050950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-was-nearly-new-year-time-when-i.html' title='just my story'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-5024930501319314780</id><published>2009-11-29T13:44:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T14:20:08.349+07:00</updated><title type='text'>the cactus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(44, 54, 53); font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;table align="center" class="f" style="border-collapse: collapse; vertical-align: top; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="f" style="border-collapse: collapse; vertical-align: top; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;div class="text"  style=" line-height: 1.4em; white-space: normal; font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;Written by a seventeen-year-old girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years ago, I met you in my neighborhood, in front of my house, you were crying because of hurt fingers. Although you were older than me by 3 years, I had not considered you as a friend or brother, I always laughed at your weakness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 years ago, on a sunny day, your grandfather brought you home a cactus, I noticed you hated it very much, and only admired from a distance. I wondered why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 years ago, you told me a story. It was 4 years ago, when his hand got stuck in a cactus, it was injured severely. The image of his bloody hand was marked deeply in his mind. The first time, I cried, not for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 years ago, when I was 14, you were 17. I slowly understood what was laying on my heart, I really didn't want to say goodbye every afternoon. You taught me how to complete homework in the right way. You inspired me by telling anecdotes which filled me with warmth, you took some twilight photos for me which I saw every night before sleeping time. I had thought you were my life. A girl had no friend. She survived deathly and slept until you came. Yesterday, my father presented me a small cactus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 years ago, my cactus grew up and had a lot of flowers. My father said that cactus only bloomed once a year. The first time in my life, I knew flowers of cactus existed. I contemplated them with much eagerness. A plant that seems to make people hurt, seems to be tough, seems to live lonely, can bloom. You said "I love cactus", "why? ", "because it is the same as you", "why?", "you are lonely, you are surrounded by chilliness made from your melancholy childhood, but there has been a hidden power, waits for the right time. And the result are flowers or your smiles". We always think that cactus is bad when we still don't see its flowers. I wanted to say something to you. Why was it so difficult to open my mouth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 year ago, you went away from me. Your parents supplied you with an amount of money for studying abroad. You said: "Can I bring your cactus to where I live?", "why?". You laughed: "I love your cactus". Your image was becoming blurry and then totally lost on the runway. Really, I missed you so much, I cried like a rain the day after you disappeared. Finally, I understood, I had been loving you for years. Why couldn't I realize it? Why couldn't I say? Why couldn't I come out of my shell? And, why couldn't you love me? ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I learn the news that you died. Two days before you left, the cactus had died on a stormy night. It brought you to the heaven and you bring me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*And for those left moments, I truly feel you love me as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-5024930501319314780?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/5024930501319314780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=5024930501319314780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/5024930501319314780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/5024930501319314780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/11/cactus.html' title='the cactus'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-2597271952395860112</id><published>2009-05-01T15:13:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T23:00:42.870+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Steal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/Sfqzw7FR65I/AAAAAAAAAF8/x6SN9mIp2_U/s1600-h/The_corner_by_Minefeldt.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 370px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/Sfqzw7FR65I/AAAAAAAAAF8/x6SN9mIp2_U/s400/The_corner_by_Minefeldt.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330770762021333906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; They can steal what you put in your pocket but never can steal what you put in your heart.&lt;div&gt;It's my memory about my parents&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's my love with a friend who lives far away from here&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's my return to somewhere calls me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I need what you stole from me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why did you steal my first love ?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why did you steal my tears ?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why did you steal my private corner ? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-2597271952395860112?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/2597271952395860112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=2597271952395860112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2597271952395860112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2597271952395860112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/05/steal.html' title='Steal'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/Sfqzw7FR65I/AAAAAAAAAF8/x6SN9mIp2_U/s72-c/The_corner_by_Minefeldt.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-120064523079044514</id><published>2009-04-29T20:24:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T20:33:25.481+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain</title><content type='html'> I have just gone home from school&lt;div&gt; Can't find anybody here&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; But where is here ? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; My space, my home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; All of them had died, many years ago ........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Only one person stay with this house&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; And waiting for a return, for a new heart &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Do you like to go with me, my darling ? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-120064523079044514?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/120064523079044514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=120064523079044514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/120064523079044514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/120064523079044514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/04/rain.html' title='Rain'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-6363911864261829791</id><published>2009-04-29T19:55:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T20:24:11.102+07:00</updated><title type='text'>You tell me the truth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SfhUrpRSyxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/_BdcTxA_5kE/s1600-h/Failure_by_Piou.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SfhUrpRSyxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/_BdcTxA_5kE/s320/Failure_by_Piou.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330103267782478610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I always thank you for what you've done with me ...&lt;div&gt; I'm a hotgirl - according to my friends, but I haven't thought about that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Many children love to have a sister like me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Many parents wish they could have a daughter like me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Many girls copy my style&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Many boys fall in love with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; But i only want you, only need you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; And what happened with my eyes? You didn't accpet, it turned dark. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I noticed I couldn't reach you though you were here with me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Sometimes, nobody can reach their stars&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/530682649118045445-6363911864261829791?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/6363911864261829791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=6363911864261829791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/6363911864261829791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/6363911864261829791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-tell-me-truth.html' title='You tell me the truth'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SfhUrpRSyxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/_BdcTxA_5kE/s72-c/Failure_by_Piou.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-530682649118045445.post-2743116249179025516</id><published>2008-10-02T20:46:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T18:04:24.540+07:00</updated><title type='text'>What can I do for you ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Who can help me ? Who can define me the meaning of friends? I don't have many friend in school and I don't want to make friend with them. Why ? Because even if I am their friend, they won't love me honestly. So I try the best to make a friendship with somebody i never have seen. It makes a comfort for me. And so surprised ! I have had some who I can chat and share the things of mine. I can show myself truly...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The night has gone, a new day is coming, and I have to go to school. Meeting friends and more happy, feel that I am more talkative than before. Smile with peoples, help someone I meet and receive more fun. I enjoy my life through another man but is me ... (to be continued)&lt;/div&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/530682649118045445-2743116249179025516?l=crush8282.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/feeds/2743116249179025516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=530682649118045445&amp;postID=2743116249179025516' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2743116249179025516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/530682649118045445/posts/default/2743116249179025516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crush8282.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-can-i-do-for-you.html' title='What can I do for you ?'/><author><name>Rin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06435138883654653766</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WfzJVIZY4-Y/SmBSKOKHmGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BiiBjqWp6Ms/S220/f13e1fd7fcf4715457a6004d09ce4859_web.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
