<?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-8829517974520074232</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:40:02.132-08:00</updated><title type='text'>R E D E V A N C E</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://redevance.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829517974520074232/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://redevance.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12619908342507677228</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829517974520074232.post-2820299078412121005</id><published>2007-08-16T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T10:11:03.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What hurts the most …</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Vacation a word that has become my more recent enemy. It was my parentals idea to pack everyone into a car and drive down to Mississippi and Louisiana for ten days, so fun. Sitting in a car dealing with irritants such as my dog, or my parents tendency to act like chain smokers. Once we arrived everyone seems to want to talk to us and buy me things. I can’t stand being bought things just because of the fact it makes me feel guilty because I didn’t get them gifts. Still my family has their issues: Drugs, Rehab, and Unlimited Drama. While I love my family to death I cant stand spending this long with them, too much drama for me to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of drama, my “friends” decided to pull some bullshit with me, while I’m on vacation, that has ultimately severed a couple ties. I’m not sure whether to accept it or just wait for the damn thing to blow over, either way the unanimous decision was I’m much better off without them. In a nutshell what happened was I’m still living that’s about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lauren tells me on the phone that the first day Timmy and a girl met was a bit awkward to her.&lt;br /&gt;I told Timmy. Why? I didn’t want his relationship to fail due to his friends.&lt;br /&gt;Timmy told Kaiser who heard that I said he said it along with Lauren.&lt;br /&gt;They get pissed and say “we’re not your friend anymore”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically they have this little vendetta against me. Who got in trouble? Me. Not the person whom I heard it from. I think it’s a bit hypocritical that I’m losing my friends over something they do themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me the whole problem is a lack of communication. Since I’ve been working I haven’t been able to spend time with my friends nor talk to them. But from what I was told Lauren hasn’t trusted me since about aprilish. At one time she was concerned that her boyfriend was going to cheat on her. Why she told me and not him is beyond me, but once again I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong and told him maybe five months after I was told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I’ve got news to the people who said that to ‘hurt’ me.&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t trusted Lauren for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;Why? Because of all the things she’s done to hurt me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In sophomore year when she pulled her shit with Gia and basically told me to fuck off. In October when she started dating the guy I had recently had a crush on, In March when I told her I liked a boy and asked her not to say anything, but she did, and In August when she blamed all the drama on me along with all the failings of our friendship. I was still her friend, still tried to trust her. Obviously I was proven wrong. Apparently we always have these arguments or potential “falling outs”. Amusingly enough I was flipping through our journals we wrote in school and not one potential falling out since … October. Wow. And why where we going to stop being friends? I was still hurt she was dating the guy I had liked, even told her I had liked. Then again I lied to her and told her it was okay to date him, so she would be happy. So that was my own fault I suppose, but its still a shitty thing to do to a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of my relatives I’ve talked to before this drama bomb was dropped told me “She’s really not your friend”. Sadly enough I must agree now. When everything was blamed on me, When she wont take a simple phone call, When its always about what I’m doing wrong. It takes two. Not one… Two.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even though going on with you gone still upsets me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But that's not what gets me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I'm doing' It&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Still Harder, Getting up, getting dressed, living' with this regret&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I know if I could do it over&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That I left unspoken&lt;/em&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/8829517974520074232-2820299078412121005?l=redevance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://redevance.blogspot.com/feeds/2820299078412121005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8829517974520074232&amp;postID=2820299078412121005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829517974520074232/posts/default/2820299078412121005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829517974520074232/posts/default/2820299078412121005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://redevance.blogspot.com/2007/08/what-hurts-most.html' title='What hurts the most …'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12619908342507677228</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829517974520074232.post-5299514290174213572</id><published>2007-07-26T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T19:03:19.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good morning heartache…</title><content type='html'>Fuck boys they suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829517974520074232-5299514290174213572?l=redevance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://redevance.blogspot.com/feeds/5299514290174213572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8829517974520074232&amp;postID=5299514290174213572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829517974520074232/posts/default/5299514290174213572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829517974520074232/posts/default/5299514290174213572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://redevance.blogspot.com/2007/07/good-morning-heartache.html' title='Good morning heartache…'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12619908342507677228</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
