tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31500972106946784692024-02-19T07:41:33.791-08:00Listen To The VoicesI'm doing my Father's work.Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-55100886261327125312011-05-22T22:27:00.000-07:002011-11-29T20:57:37.773-08:00Paper<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KsqwvPwiBNY5i_sD_loEtfEhtqs14Gti2WRdY-UJceThUFbNoWKU1PisZQVWXiLtU_GSqb0iWH4sdVZiMMwyt5m6MvoYH_26xfL4kmQSYsX4IGSia0w01hFisDRZ-HRR1Yizzq_ithE/s1600/tearing+paper.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KsqwvPwiBNY5i_sD_loEtfEhtqs14Gti2WRdY-UJceThUFbNoWKU1PisZQVWXiLtU_GSqb0iWH4sdVZiMMwyt5m6MvoYH_26xfL4kmQSYsX4IGSia0w01hFisDRZ-HRR1Yizzq_ithE/s320/tearing+paper.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609779301875003554" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic;"> Love is like a paper..<br /> Assume a piece of paper is an amount of a person's love..<br /> Each time you fall in love and fall out of love..<br /> A small part of your paper is being tear..<br /> The more ex-es you have..<br /> The more your paper being torn..<br /> Careful who you fall in love with..<br /><br /><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /></span></span>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-30494826010061482782010-09-18T14:20:00.000-07:002011-11-29T21:00:13.963-08:00Second Chances<em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Why bother having relationships when you know is gonna last for awhile?<br />I'm sorry if I said something offended you...<br /><br />Seriously, I meant its okay to be in love but have you ever thought of being with your guy/girl forever?<br />Or it is just puppy love?<br />Loving a guy for a moment to comfort you, to make you feel safe then you dump him<br />And to the guys..There are a lot of beautiful women out there..<br />Control yourself and be loyal to your girlfriend.<br />I myself is a guy too,<br />I have temptation as well, like tempts to watch pornography or to be a player..<br />But it is always our responsibility to control temptations..<br />And<br />It is our responsibilities to control our outcomes..</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"><br />Your world, your generation, your responsibilities..<br /></span></em><em></em><em></em><em></em><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></em><br /><em style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color:#ff0000;">One thousand ways to make things goes wrong but there is only one way to make things right..</span></em>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-69726896855008048412010-09-17T15:51:00.000-07:002011-11-29T21:05:32.590-08:00Help?<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">I saw this old man climbing a spoiled escalator </span></i></span><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I saw how tiring he was and he looks like he gonna fall off any time soon..</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">So, I ran up the escalator to help him up.</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Then suddenly he turn back and scolded me..</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I was trying to help him but end up getting scolding...</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">And everyone around me was like giving me weird faces..</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>Well, maybe no one wants to feel useless.</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div></div>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-47802860213142167542010-08-20T12:22:00.000-07:002010-08-20T12:30:58.938-07:00Wise Man..<em><span style="color:#ff0000;">There was a small town with only a few people living in it, and a great king came with his army and besieged it. </span></em><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">There was a poor, wise man living there who knew how to save the town, and so it was rescued. </span></em><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">But afterward no one thought any more about him.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Then I realized that though wisdom is better than strenght, those who are wise will be despised if they are poor.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></em>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-48094800696131838292010-07-18T01:13:00.001-07:002010-07-18T01:15:16.035-07:00that guy seems to think...( part 3 ) Just a story<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qwboHPMXEDKpfZHxnLDPxUTMZ-ytldyp0GTuFN0-jzIqk89M9ECKsO_j7fG9FVTWA-9KvN_2aE1kvaHG4JXNT9vmZqeV4vxYZy5ARyD3JD-Rsx6QgAnUGKxhpP3uaBWUSiKHJa83FhY/s1600/Clipboard01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qwboHPMXEDKpfZHxnLDPxUTMZ-ytldyp0GTuFN0-jzIqk89M9ECKsO_j7fG9FVTWA-9KvN_2aE1kvaHG4JXNT9vmZqeV4vxYZy5ARyD3JD-Rsx6QgAnUGKxhpP3uaBWUSiKHJa83FhY/s320/Clipboard01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495156496175254706" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I stood up and walked forlornly towards the withering tree. I could feel the roughness of the bark as I laid my hand on it. I punched it. I don’t know why, but I did it. It was a mixture of pain and numbness, but it was the same for me emotionally, so it didn’t really make a difference to me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I tried to muster some hope in me. Memories are all that I will cling on to now. Maybe someday, someday in the future, we’ll be together again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Maybe one day you’ll wake up and find that you’re missing me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Maybe one day I’ll hold you in my arms once again. Maybe one day we’ll be able to watch the stars from the balcony together again. Maybe we’ll be able to take a long drive to nowhere for no reason and still have fun.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">But for now, this will be the day - the day I said goodbye.</span>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-11192419804484316952010-07-18T01:11:00.000-07:002010-07-18T01:12:56.053-07:00that guy seems to think...( part 2 )<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW3A7eRoo0hEyZMyqJ4Kz_4_QafJLK18Z4x8_E23dcP9LdpX4VeMORjsbyXJLysaeO723jRyO4gxDZWLsurv-R4P_dKvzIif3YD3FRBO32PSYvsn0SbTrXL6bu9_jhrStYasdZfQp2kU/s1600/Clipboard01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW3A7eRoo0hEyZMyqJ4Kz_4_QafJLK18Z4x8_E23dcP9LdpX4VeMORjsbyXJLysaeO723jRyO4gxDZWLsurv-R4P_dKvzIif3YD3FRBO32PSYvsn0SbTrXL6bu9_jhrStYasdZfQp2kU/s320/Clipboard01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495156155638031410" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I couldn’t hit the falsetto notes like Barry Gibb, and I sounded like a frog’s croaking. But that didn’t matter at all. The song spoke of my situation.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">“And how can you mend a broken heart?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">How can you stop the rain from falling down?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">How can you stop the sun from shining?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">What makes the world go round?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">How can you mend this broken man?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">How can a loser ever win?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">My heart’s bleeding faster than the doctors can mend it. I closed my eyes and pictured you once again. It hurt so much. I wept.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">It’s good to see you enjoying your life, going on like nothing ever happened. Maybe I’m but a shadow in your past, meaning nothing much to you now. Have fun with your life now, don’t worry about me. I’ll suck in all my sorrows, and perhaps cry myself to sleep every night.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I dare not think of what it could have been if I had kept my emotions to myself. Maybe we could have still been together. But it’s all too late. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Farewell. </span>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-29175362226386326122010-07-18T01:07:00.000-07:002010-07-18T01:16:27.990-07:00that guy seems to think...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4upqjF-0wVRGxfD1skLVVIAK5A3jlzHabReu0Tp1-U3hVTDUE92RdJR4lxOMcl6aViWW0vRVIxt6GGOwq8fnx10HbNz0hrc79EEUHAEz0DVxButGc_9XOzDYAjw9vgdXay9W2-RGf3k/s1600/686640-Famous_Sunset_sunset_point_in_Oia_Valley-Fira.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4upqjF-0wVRGxfD1skLVVIAK5A3jlzHabReu0Tp1-U3hVTDUE92RdJR4lxOMcl6aViWW0vRVIxt6GGOwq8fnx10HbNz0hrc79EEUHAEz0DVxButGc_9XOzDYAjw9vgdXay9W2-RGf3k/s320/686640-Famous_Sunset_sunset_point_in_Oia_Valley-Fira.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495155275556448626" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The sun slowly disappeared, eaten up by the horizon to the far west. I sat on the top of the hill overlooking the town, its lights slowly coming alive as people realize the day is turning into night. I held guitar by my side. It was somewhat out of tune, but playable. In my other hand, was a beer bottle. Nothing like a cool stout to help me forget the troubles of the world. A leaf from the withering tree to the left of me fell gently, its colour bright red with a tinge of brown, towards the lake below it. As the leaf created a ripple on the calm waters, so did my guitar create a ripple on the quiet hilltop.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I thought to myself - She’s probably not worth it anymore. Why do you bother trying?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I never should have trusted my heart in fragile hands. Now it’s all shattered. The pieces of my heart could enter the eye of a needle. It’s all over.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">As I played the guitar and sang my heart out, I wish I could hit the rewind button. I wish I could go back and correct all the mistakes I did. I wish I could have been a better person to you. I wish I had hold on to you much tighter, appreciating each moment we spend together. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The tears were swelling up in my eyes, but I fought to keep them back. I didn’t want to cry. Some of them fell on my guitar. I miss the days when we would lie down in the open fields, your head on my chest, our hands linked with each other as we gazed up in the skies, looking at the beautiful picture God painted with the clouds. I miss the days when we would laugh at stuff for no reason. I miss the days where you gazed into my eyes so lovingly, stealing a kiss from me every now and then. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">You’re so important to me. I just never got a chance to tell you how much you meant to me, or how much you still mean to me. I never dared to say I love you. I never dared to say I care. Because I wanted it to be perfect when I did. My pride held me back from being imperfect in front of you. I wanted to be your dream man. But I came to realize, I never knew what your dream man was. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I know I hurt you a lot, and I know today, you have shut me out. But all I ask is for one more chance to make it all right. But you never gave me a chance. Your shoulder is so cold, my beer would be hot tea in comparison. When I stare at the sky, all I think about is you. But now, I’ll never get the chance to tell you how I feel.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Maybe this is it. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Maybe this is real. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Maybe this is the end.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I never thought that it would end this way, but now I realize, after that whole long period of you not in my life, I’m still back at where I stood before, when I first knew that I would always love you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I want to still believe. How do I warm your shoulder towards me......<br /><br /><br />Its not written by me..<br />I just took this story and post it up..<br />Enjoy it guys! :D<br /></span>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150097210694678469.post-88703450929332246112010-07-11T10:04:00.000-07:002011-05-22T21:42:39.553-07:00Empty Box<em><span style="color:#ff0000;">A empty box...<br />Feeling of great emptiness..<br /></span></em><em></em><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">No colors in you...</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Nothing beautiful....</span></em><em></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">And you feel that no one loves you..</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">You are wrong!</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">I love you! </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">And If you ask me why I love you,<br />when you're nobody and empty</span></em><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">.<br /><br />I will say,<br />The reason God and I love you<br />Is because you are nobody and empty..<br />And that's what makes you special.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">God loves you even you're nothing to this world.</span><br /></span></em>Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06565807217595122640noreply@blogger.com0