<?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-5746311069748988578</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:00:08.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>StrippedofShame</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-7004303122946525775</id><published>2010-09-28T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T08:35:25.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It came true..</title><content type='html'>All of my posts were right. I wanted this SO much more than you. I wanted you to be with me and love me unconditionally and then you broke up with me. Its been a little less than a month since we ended things and only 3 days since we HAVENT talked. You wanted her more than me. You wanted to be single more than me. You got it. Its yours. Now you are throwing your life away to try and fuck white trash girls. I hope it all works out for you but remember. ILL ALWAYS be the best you've ever had. Better than your EX and better than the rest. I cant tell you enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you though. Everyday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-7004303122946525775?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/7004303122946525775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-came-true.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/7004303122946525775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/7004303122946525775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-came-true.html' title='It came true..'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-7726314029870973921</id><published>2010-08-17T20:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T20:11:42.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate..</title><content type='html'>That I love you more than you love me.&lt;br /&gt;I cant let go. &lt;br /&gt;I cant stop loving you. &lt;br /&gt;I cant stop being insecure about past things.&lt;br /&gt;I love/hate fighting with you. &lt;br /&gt;That sometimes it SHOWS that I care more about this relationship than you do and it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;That I am more considerate and compromising than you. &lt;br /&gt;That NO ONE in your family likes me. &lt;br /&gt;That sometimes it bothers me, but I act like it doesnt because ALL of my family likes you and asks about you. &lt;br /&gt;That I still think every now and again that you will hurt me and cheat on me like you did before. &lt;br /&gt;That you are SHADY as FUCK sometimes but you act like you arent. &lt;br /&gt;That in the past you were into weird things and I check your cell phone bill to make sure you arent still doing those weird things. &lt;br /&gt;That you STILL work with your EXGF and when you leave work late, BAD thoughts run thru my mind.&lt;br /&gt;That after reading ALL of this I dont know why I am still with you and continue to put up with your BULLSHIT. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-7726314029870973921?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/7726314029870973921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-hate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/7726314029870973921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/7726314029870973921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-hate.html' title='I hate..'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-1430511895282471485</id><published>2010-08-08T10:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T10:37:23.265-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8-13-08</title><content type='html'>This is when we were EST. Lol. As they say. It will be 2 years on Friday. I am&lt;br /&gt;hoping we dont fight and we get along the WHOLE night. We have been fighting a lot lately and I feel like I dont have control of the situation anymore. Like I can't fathom living without you, but like our world is SO different because of EVERYTHING. I want us to work out SO BAD and I want to love you SO MUCH, but you make it hard. SO HARD. It's tough to be in this when I feel like I try harder than you. I've told you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Love.&lt;br /&gt;Live.&lt;br /&gt;Be Happy.&lt;br /&gt;Be IN LOVE. &lt;br /&gt;Eat Sushi. &lt;br /&gt;Make LOVE.&lt;br /&gt;Take Pictures.&lt;br /&gt;Have Babies.&lt;br /&gt;Get Married.&lt;br /&gt;NOT Fight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL of this I want with you. &lt;br /&gt;Let's make it happen. 2 YRS is right around the corner, but it feels like longer because I KNOW you are my SOULMATE and my BEST friend. I hope you feel this way too and always do. :)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TF7q9eUXhzI/AAAAAAAAABo/qANW-pQ7o5I/s1600/photography1751.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 287px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TF7q9eUXhzI/AAAAAAAAABo/qANW-pQ7o5I/s320/photography1751.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503094136524736306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-1430511895282471485?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/1430511895282471485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/8-13-08.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/1430511895282471485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/1430511895282471485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/8-13-08.html' title='8-13-08'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TF7q9eUXhzI/AAAAAAAAABo/qANW-pQ7o5I/s72-c/photography1751.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-3958282041927203429</id><published>2010-08-04T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T12:06:41.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to LOVE with all of my heart.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TFm4fvQaI8I/AAAAAAAAABg/K4cCfLgl4i8/s1600/alwayslove.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 218px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TFm4fvQaI8I/AAAAAAAAABg/K4cCfLgl4i8/s320/alwayslove.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501631275210515394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying. You make it so hard. Last night, we had a good night. We went to the movies, shared a hot dog, popcorn and chocolate covered peanuts. We laughed. We were excited to go back to my house to have a good night, and then you brought up dumb things to fight about. Other girls, other guys. The SAME things that we ALWAYS fight about. It's not worth ruining our nights over. I HATE it. So I made you leave. I didnt want to fight and I knew that we both would have laid in bed together wanting to hold each other but letting our pride get in the way. I don't know why we do this run around and it gets us right back to the same spot we were in before the fight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOWHERE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you. I want to be with you and I want this time around to be better than before. I missed everything about you, EXCEPT how insecure you are. It's CLEAR how insecure you are but you say you arent. We all are. I am scared to start this whole thing with you again but I AM. I am taking that risk. To LOVE with all of my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you would do the same and let me know that you are into this as much as you say you are. I need proof. I need reassurance sometimes. Can I have that? Please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just love me with ALL OF YOUR heart. We can get thru this. I just wish it wasnt so hard for you and me to get over all the bullshit. I want the warm days when we first started dating. Where it was NOTHING but happiness and love. Where we would make out and have passionate sex ALL the time. Where you would tell me EVERYTIME you saw me, how beautiful I was and how you couldnt live without me. Now its like you can be alone for days at a time and not care if we see each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to fall asleep with you more times than not. Be passionate. Intimate. Loving. Caring. Trusting. Can we just go back to that? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-3958282041927203429?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/3958282041927203429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-want-to-love-with-all-of-my-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/3958282041927203429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/3958282041927203429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-want-to-love-with-all-of-my-heart.html' title='I want to LOVE with all of my heart.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TFm4fvQaI8I/AAAAAAAAABg/K4cCfLgl4i8/s72-c/alwayslove.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-2792812041675565900</id><published>2010-08-02T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T20:01:36.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As of lately..</title><content type='html'>I feel like your passion is fading.. Just the sexual part. Like Im a CLOSE friend that you cook for, eat with, cuddle with and sleep with.. but not in the SEXUAL aspect of it. Lately, you have made me feel as if you are not sexually attracted to me anymore and that your "alone" time is when you can really get out some release. Yes I know I shouldnt ask about those alone times you have, but they are more than they should be. They are more than you being intimate with me. I know you probably dont mean to make me feel this way and you are always "tired" but sometimes I feel like they are excuses. Like something else is bothering you. Something deeper and darker. Something that you dont want to discuss. I know you better than you know yourself... I just wish you would tell me. I hope its not drugs again. Or other people. girls to be exact. I just thought we were past this and I want to be right about you but in the GOOD SENSE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you and i wish that you could talk to me and let me know whats wrong. I know it's not my LOOKS. I am no where near grotesque and I am no where near ugly, but maybe there is something bothering you inside that you need to let out but you cant talk to me about it. I need you to hear me when I say you are my BEST FRIEND and you can tell me anything. Please? I am in a dark place and I am worried. I need to know that we are going to be ok. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-2792812041675565900?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/2792812041675565900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/as-of-lately.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/2792812041675565900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/2792812041675565900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/08/as-of-lately.html' title='As of lately..'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-4783559803143045893</id><published>2010-07-24T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T22:40:45.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love...</title><content type='html'>Looking at old pictures of us together and remembering how happy we were but how much happier we are now. I just hope we stay like this and it doesnt end with me crying and wishing I never reunited with you. I hate that people say, "Once a cheater, always a cheater", I dont want to believe it. Please prove them wrong as well as ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be able to wake up and have all of our issues thrown out the window and for us to move on... I want to be able to call you my husband one day and not regret it. I want to be able to have the most beautiful children with you and not think twice about the family I have created with you. I want to be able to be OK and not think you are out doing something wrong, lying or being unfaithful like before. I've missed you and how PASSIONATE our lives are together and I just hope this isnt a mistake. Everyone seems to think it is. Everyone seems to think it's annoying how IN LOVE we are. I never fell out of love with you. I hated trying to date other people and I hated seeing you TRY to date other people. The truth is, I will NEVER be ok without you... ever. I love you. A lot. More than I can say and even though we have been thru rough times, I want to remember the good times and make BETTER memories with you.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have my heart... Just be careful with it and dont break it because...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TEvOJfkRhiI/AAAAAAAAABY/AhhviXdO01U/s1600/morethenyou.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TEvOJfkRhiI/AAAAAAAAABY/AhhviXdO01U/s320/morethenyou.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497714432623609378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-4783559803143045893?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/4783559803143045893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4783559803143045893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4783559803143045893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-love.html' title='I love...'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TEvOJfkRhiI/AAAAAAAAABY/AhhviXdO01U/s72-c/morethenyou.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-9041503487453388344</id><published>2010-07-23T15:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T15:43:10.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My status....</title><content type='html'>in a relationship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shall see how this goes. Lol. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-9041503487453388344?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/9041503487453388344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-status.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/9041503487453388344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/9041503487453388344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-status.html' title='My status....'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-98715646755770800</id><published>2010-07-19T11:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T11:13:53.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's amazing the way I feel when I am around him. &lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how when we are intimate, I am SO turned on by him. &lt;br /&gt;He makes me quiver, sweat, feel butterflies and get the stupidest grin on my face when he calls, texts, or is in person. I can't help it. &lt;br /&gt;After 2 years it usually fades but with him, there is nothing like it. Even after we have both tried to date other people, it still has NEVER gotten ANY better than this... I will never feel love the way I do with him. &lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to see where it goes and to see if this is going to work the 2nd time around. let's hope. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TESVzJiNFyI/AAAAAAAAABQ/T689keCAz4w/s1600/Love_is_in_black_and_white_by_leebronte.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 265px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TESVzJiNFyI/AAAAAAAAABQ/T689keCAz4w/s320/Love_is_in_black_and_white_by_leebronte.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495682151264098082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-98715646755770800?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/98715646755770800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-amazing-way-i-feel-when-i-am-around.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/98715646755770800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/98715646755770800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-amazing-way-i-feel-when-i-am-around.html' title=''/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/TESVzJiNFyI/AAAAAAAAABQ/T689keCAz4w/s72-c/Love_is_in_black_and_white_by_leebronte.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-5573971369986640594</id><published>2010-07-18T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T11:11:02.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving on... Look no number!</title><content type='html'>I am sure no one reads this, I don't even think I have ONE follower. Lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I am in a place where I am DONE with "HIM".. Essay. I have changed my number, moved on and I am now in a place where I am trying things with an old flame, more like, The Love Of My Life, again. Last year things were rough between us, he cheated, things ended badly and he hurt me beyond belief. I didn't think that there was ANY way i would EVER forgive him but I am learning to. I am trying to trust him and I am trying to put everything in the past. YES it is hard seeing as he works with his EXGF, WHO he "supposedly" broke up with to be with me, BUT I am learning to try and be a better person and understand we ALL make mistakes. Clearly I am ONE of those people who make mistakes. I have made many in my life. I have lied, cheated, stole, broken hearts and made my self vulnerable to life. I am over trying to be someone I am not. I am tired of letting my pride get in the way of happiness and getting angry for no reason. I am trying to let go and move on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been hurt and deceived but I am looking forward into the future with my love. I hope it all works out this time and IF NOT, at least I wont think "what if".. Ill know, FOR SURE that he will never change. I love him and want to marry this person but sometimes its hard to trust in this world we live in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this person I have never felt more connected and in love than I have with him. Its hard to beleive but even before and AFTER essay, there was ALWAYS "L".. He has my heart forever regardless if we dont work out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ill let you know what happens. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-5573971369986640594?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/5573971369986640594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/moving-on-look-no-number.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/5573971369986640594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/5573971369986640594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/moving-on-look-no-number.html' title='Moving on... Look no number!'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-8975375801160869147</id><published>2010-07-02T12:38:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T12:49:48.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>16.</title><content type='html'>Well, its been almost a month, give or take a few days. &lt;br /&gt;He is STILL in my life, but not for the good. We talk, try and keep it cordial. he MANNED up and took his part like he was supposed to. He calls me to say hi and to ask more times than not, for me to come over and spend the night. I don't. I have said NO everytime and/or made an excuse as to why I can't and why i didnt answer my phone when he called to wonder why. He drives me insane and not in a good way. I thought this blog could have been something that him and I could look back on and enjoy. Something that we could use as a memory of how it all started. Now, it just looks like another pathetic love blog with some random screwed up girl that likes to steal girls husbands. It was NEVER my intention and it NEVER EVER will happen again. He is now "supposedly" engaged to this girl that broke us up. I wish nothing but happiness upon them but i KNOW that wont happen. He is too fucked up in his mind to have a normal stable relationship.. Shit, he calls ME still to see if I can come and keep him company. I have tried to tell her but she doesnt believe me. She said it's he said, she said bullshit. Of course she thinks that. She doesnt want to believe that HER MAN, could EVER cheat on her and want to be with anyone else. Well like "I" have learned, "You lose your man, how you gain him".. I should have listened to my close friends when they said that. Lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I hate to always be bitter and horrible about him but its just SO amazing to me how someone in this LIFETIME can be SUCH a douchebag. I don't know how someone can go thru life and think its OK to treat people like this? I know that I FUCKED UP and ruined a lot of friendships over this but that was something that I prepared for and understood that it was something I gave up to be with him. Essay. I just didnt know it wouldnt mean as much to him as it did to me. He says his feelings HAVENT changed for me. That when he saw me for the 1st time after a few weeks, he realized that he still LOVED me? WTF? Well now you and your "out of town fiance", can be together and live happily ever after. She will be here or you will be there in 15 days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its all bullshit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-8975375801160869147?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/8975375801160869147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/16_3046.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8975375801160869147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8975375801160869147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/07/16_3046.html' title='16.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-7159800565639297567</id><published>2010-06-06T05:28:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T05:36:08.609-07:00</updated><title type='text'>15.</title><content type='html'>I know that ALL my posts start out as numbers. I know that ALL I ever talk about is this "guy" who we will continue to call Essay. All, I have are the feelings that I want to share with the world for him, but then ease back because it just may be the stupidest thing that I could do. I know, you lose your man how you gain him, but he was NEVER my man. He's not HER man anymore, or the one that tore US apart when she arrived on Thursday. She is another girl that will come and go... I have proof that its not just her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking A LOT about life and the turmoil I am IN, have caused and will START here in about 2 weeks. He deserves it ALL. I can be nice and "pretend" that I understand ANYTHING he is saying, but I don't care. In fact I CARE SO MUCH that I don't care, IF that makes sense. I want him to hurt like he hurt me. This is ALL that has been running through my mind and it CONSUMES me. I can't get enough of the things playing in my head. It's hard to eat, sleep, or even dream. I can't take the thoughts anymore but they wont go away until this "problem" goes away... I don't even want to call it a problem. HE is the problem. Not the thing growing inside me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am SO depressed. Love, or the thing called "love" sucks. It makes you happy and then leaves you feeling shitty. I just dont understand why SOME men can't man up to their responsibilities and MAKE grown up choices. I have SOOO many words and phrases and thoughts going through me and wanting me to write them down that it makes me tired and exhausts me. I just need a hot meal and sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am working grave tonight. I saw you text me. I text you back but I didnt want to. I just want you to get out of my head...but it's hard. It really is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. I cant write anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing left except every thought I can't/need/want to write down. It's like a MAGNET. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-7159800565639297567?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/7159800565639297567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/06/15_06.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/7159800565639297567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/7159800565639297567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/06/15_06.html' title='15.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-3953241132051284072</id><published>2010-06-03T22:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T22:19:30.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>14.</title><content type='html'>FUCK YOU. &lt;br /&gt;I thought you were different. &lt;br /&gt;IM PREGNANT and you don't give a FUCK. Too soon? Well it wasn't too soon for you to CUM inside me right? Exactly. &lt;br /&gt;You're an asshole and I hope you're having fun with her right now. I hope she is everything you hoped she was and more. She is leaving in 4 days. WHO KNOWS when she'll be back. You show her my texts, you tell her and ALL your friends about my "problem"? OUR problem. We are DEF going to take care of this situation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate you now and im sure you love it because thats how you wanted the first girl to feel so it was easier to let go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you realize what you've started and what kind of war this is going to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're an IDIOT. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-3953241132051284072?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/3953241132051284072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/06/14.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/3953241132051284072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/3953241132051284072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/06/14.html' title='14.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-5726718347296852967</id><published>2010-05-30T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T17:20:44.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>13.</title><content type='html'>You have lied to her. &lt;br /&gt;Now to me. &lt;br /&gt;Are we going to honestly make it? Really? I wonder. Are you secure? &lt;br /&gt;I didn't see you for 2 days and it felt like eternity. When you wrapped your arms around me for the first time after 2 days it felt like: home. Heaven. relief. &lt;br /&gt;I just want us to work but I feel like other people and girls MAY get in the way. I dont know how you talk to her, flirt with her, or WHAT you promise to her. ANY of that. AND if you are going to hang out with her in 5 days without me, then I know its over. I know what you are doing and I know whats going on. Don't try and play me for a fool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you are newly single but I want the honest truth from you about EVERYTHING. I am honest with you. I just hope this week coming up proves that you and I are together, even if it's NOT official, and you 2 ARE only "friends"... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't break my heart. Please. it would suck after EVERYTHING we have been thru. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-5726718347296852967?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/5726718347296852967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/13.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/5726718347296852967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/5726718347296852967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/13.html' title='13.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-6454817206447372067</id><published>2010-05-23T12:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T12:21:53.375-07:00</updated><title type='text'>12.</title><content type='html'>I miss you more and more each day I have to spend away from you. &lt;br /&gt;I love that we are getting closer. I love that everything is/maybe/hopefully going to work out in the end. I am waiting for the karma but I hope it's not as horrible as I am anticipating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll get through it. &lt;br /&gt;Like we ALWAYS say, they don't know about this HERE. &lt;br /&gt;You're beautiful is more intense than I love you. Lol. &lt;br /&gt;We are silly. &lt;br /&gt;I love being silly with you. &lt;br /&gt;I love wrestling with you. &lt;br /&gt;I love fighting with you. &lt;br /&gt;I love being passionate with you. &lt;br /&gt;I love it all and I want it to last for as long as you and I let it. &lt;br /&gt;I want to make this a fun situation and not so serious. &lt;br /&gt;Don't be like the rest. &lt;br /&gt;I know everyone has their opinons but WHO? Cares. Lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you essay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-6454817206447372067?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/6454817206447372067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/6454817206447372067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/6454817206447372067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/12.html' title='12.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-8076131721399684548</id><published>2010-05-20T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T19:28:10.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>11.</title><content type='html'>She found out. &lt;br /&gt;I care BUT I don't. &lt;br /&gt;I know she is hurt. &lt;br /&gt;I want her to understand it was never meant to hurt her.&lt;br /&gt;One day maybe she"ll thank me for taking you away from her. &lt;br /&gt;I love you more anyways. &lt;br /&gt;Everyone will see how much chemistry we have together. &lt;br /&gt;They don't know about this HERE. &lt;br /&gt;You know it boo. &lt;br /&gt;Let's hope it stays that way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-8076131721399684548?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/8076131721399684548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8076131721399684548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8076131721399684548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/11.html' title='11.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-8180356792912821371</id><published>2010-05-16T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T10:49:54.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10.</title><content type='html'>I had SO much fun with you last night. &lt;br /&gt;I love your new place. &lt;br /&gt;I love that we can be loud, yell, and fight IF we wanted to.. &lt;br /&gt;We kind of did last night but it was out of fun. &lt;br /&gt;And Passion. Which I love about you ALL the time. &lt;br /&gt;You feel this way for me, for a reason. And the same goes for me.&lt;br /&gt;I love nights like that with you. &lt;br /&gt;I want more. &lt;br /&gt;I want to believe what you say. BUT it's hard. &lt;br /&gt;Make me believe you. &lt;br /&gt;Try harder. &lt;br /&gt;Love me. &lt;br /&gt;I am not desperate. I just want to be told the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-8180356792912821371?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/8180356792912821371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8180356792912821371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8180356792912821371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/10.html' title='10.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-417863967868066164</id><published>2010-05-15T11:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T11:42:38.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'>9.</title><content type='html'>I feel like it's ALL a lie. &lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to believe anymore. &lt;br /&gt;I need to let you go for good. This is getting too complicated and I don't want ANYONE to find out about us. It seems like it may be getting to that point. Or you are going to go back to her sooner than later. &lt;br /&gt;Therapy? &lt;br /&gt;Couples Therapy? &lt;br /&gt;You moved out, yet you STILL feel weird not wearing your ring... I don't get it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-417863967868066164?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/417863967868066164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/417863967868066164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/417863967868066164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/9.html' title='9.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-4147502692258515102</id><published>2010-05-14T17:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T17:36:12.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8.</title><content type='html'>This song reminds me of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can feel your fingers when I close my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Take your poison, look inside&lt;br /&gt;I fall into dreaming&lt;br /&gt;I've been waiting for your touch to bring me home&lt;br /&gt;Sleeping, death will come and leave me out of the sunlight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shadows pulling me along with you&lt;br /&gt;When the moonlight sings&lt;br /&gt;The darkness brings me back to die with you&lt;br /&gt;I've given all my life to be with you&lt;br /&gt;My heart is waiting and breaking to return to burn with you tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hating all I am when lying by your side&lt;br /&gt;Taking everything of me&lt;br /&gt;Do people mean nothing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hold secrets only dreaming eyes can see&lt;br /&gt;Night time sent you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shadows pulling me along with you&lt;br /&gt;When the moonlight sings&lt;br /&gt;The darkness brings me back to die with you&lt;br /&gt;I've given all my life to be with you&lt;br /&gt;My heart is waiting and breaking to return to burn with you tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lay down your night&lt;br /&gt;Holy for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forsake the night&lt;br /&gt;All I see is you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For every night&lt;br /&gt;Live just to die for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shadows pulling me along with you&lt;br /&gt;When the moonlight sings&lt;br /&gt;The darkness brings me back to die with you&lt;br /&gt;I've given all my life to be with you&lt;br /&gt;My heart is waiting and breaking to return to burn with you tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me think of how much I am in a CONSTANT battle with myself and you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-4147502692258515102?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/4147502692258515102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/8.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4147502692258515102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4147502692258515102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/8.html' title='8.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-4659918069597061876</id><published>2010-05-13T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T22:57:19.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>7.</title><content type='html'>You come to see me and you are wearing it.&lt;br /&gt;You said you took it off for a reason. Me.&lt;br /&gt;You saw me look at it. You knew what you did wrong.&lt;br /&gt;I just dont know about you anymore. BUT did I ever know you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever. Guess I need to stop living in this world where I think it will be perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-4659918069597061876?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/4659918069597061876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/7.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4659918069597061876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4659918069597061876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/7.html' title='7.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-6451615248115320577</id><published>2010-05-11T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T09:23:09.804-07:00</updated><title type='text'>6.</title><content type='html'>So here we are. In a whirlwind of emotions and not knowing what to do. I didn't talk to you for about 9 hours yesterday which is rare for us. I did however talk to her. She told me things out of venting which in turn made me realize you are a liar. I wondered if you were feeding her bullshit as well as you were feeding me bullshit. Why is it SO hard to be honest? I am honest with you as much as I can be. Sometimes it's hard cause everything I say or do hurts your feelings. It's unfair. I just want the truth and sometimes I feel like you sugarcoat everything because you know I have been hurt many times before. I knew what I was getting myself into when we started this. So, do me a favor, don't do me ANY favors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am laying in my bed right now wanting to call you and text you while you are at work. I KNOW you are thinking of me too, but I know you are thinking of her more. That's why I had to tell you exactly how I felt last night. I had to make the right choice and not talking to you until you figure out you was probably the best choice I have made in about 3 months. I know it will hurt but I feel like I am in the way. Of everything. YOUR chocies. YOUR moves. I need to do me while you do you. I know you will get to a place where you are happy and I hope you call me when you do. Even if it's back with her. I just want my heart to be ok just like I want YOURS to be ok as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wont forget you. Or this. Or how we felt everytime we were together. The passion. The laughs. The fighting. Lol. We arent a couple yet we fight like one. I'll miss it. I feel like this could be the end. Im gonna hold my breath for a bit but not for long. I don't wanna sink while you use my head for balance to come up for air...if that makes sense...it does to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be thinking of you. Ill try my hardest to stay strong love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-6451615248115320577?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/6451615248115320577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/6.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/6451615248115320577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/6451615248115320577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/6.html' title='6.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-3835198795535935927</id><published>2010-05-07T10:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T10:31:22.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5.</title><content type='html'>God.&lt;br /&gt;I.&lt;br /&gt;Love.&lt;br /&gt;You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to let you go and I hope you feel the same. For real. No joke. No games. This is a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-3835198795535935927?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/3835198795535935927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/5.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/3835198795535935927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/3835198795535935927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/5.html' title='5.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-4412204954903814406</id><published>2010-05-06T23:11:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T23:20:11.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>4.</title><content type='html'>So.&lt;br /&gt;Um.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I don't know what to do anymore. People tell me I should leave this alone and move on to someone with less drama. The thing is, is there is NO drama...yet. I know once people find out about you and I there will be, but it wont be for a while. I go to your pictures on Facebook and I look at how happy you both once were. I know that you are not happy and I know that once you are free you will be. With me? Alone? Who knows how you will feel once that band-aid is ripped off and things are actually set in stone. I just need to see this go down before I believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck. My. Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-4412204954903814406?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/4412204954903814406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/4_06.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4412204954903814406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4412204954903814406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/4_06.html' title='4.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-4247681812326264724</id><published>2010-05-06T01:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T01:09:58.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3.</title><content type='html'>It's happeneing.&lt;br /&gt;You're taking action and I dont know what to do other than run away.&lt;br /&gt;IS THIS what I want?&lt;br /&gt;IS THIS what I dreamt it would be like?&lt;br /&gt;I love you. I miss you now and when that day comes when we speak again, I hope it's nothing but GREAT news. I want this to start but it's hard to move on when there is SO much to leave behind. On your end AND mine.&lt;br /&gt;I love you ESSAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-4247681812326264724?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/4247681812326264724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4247681812326264724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/4247681812326264724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/05/3.html' title='3.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-8668541186593323226</id><published>2010-04-30T10:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T10:12:33.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2.</title><content type='html'>I love to hear your voice.&lt;br /&gt;You send shivers down my spine when you tell me you love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I just let you go? I know deep down it will never just be me and you against the world. It feels like the world is against us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-8668541186593323226?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/8668541186593323226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/04/2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8668541186593323226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/8668541186593323226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/04/2.html' title='2.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746311069748988578.post-1969399124611092850</id><published>2010-04-29T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T11:44:53.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1.</title><content type='html'>I saw you this morning when you entered my room.&lt;br /&gt;I know you had just left her to come see me.&lt;br /&gt;It gets harder everyday to know that there is so much between us, yet you wont leave. You say you are going to eventually but then you talk of nothing but you and her.&lt;br /&gt;Will it stop?&lt;br /&gt;When you say you love me more than anything, is it true?&lt;br /&gt;We are both risking a lot to be together and losing lots to be together but don't you just want to be happy?&lt;br /&gt;It's sin at it's finest.&lt;br /&gt;We click like no others and our passion is so intense.&lt;br /&gt;You make me yearn for you and your kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be with me. Only me. Show me you love me as much as you say you do. Please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5746311069748988578-1969399124611092850?l=strippedoflove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/feeds/1969399124611092850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/04/1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/1969399124611092850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5746311069748988578/posts/default/1969399124611092850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://strippedoflove.blogspot.com/2010/04/1.html' title='1.'/><author><name>Around His Finger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15894161994005581972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q2q7p8Vfa1k/S_mHvVwADNI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ekJFzNDpZXw/S220/love-21.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
