<?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-3345114193552828733</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:47:32.194-06:00</updated><category term='layout'/><category term='tv'/><category term='sick'/><category term='school'/><category term='homecoming'/><category term='work'/><category term='haul'/><category term='etod'/><title type='text'>Secret Love Notes ♥</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>82</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7750972684603579104</id><published>2010-01-16T00:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T00:58:43.107-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess who's back, back again?</title><content type='html'>I kindof want to get back into blogging.&lt;div&gt;First off, I &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; need a new layout because this one is boring the hell out of me, lol. Maybe I'll work on that tomorrow. I need to go to bed because I've got to work in the morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything else that I type feels like it isn't worded the right way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I'm just being a weirdo, but I'll figure it out tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Goodnight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7750972684603579104?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7750972684603579104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7750972684603579104' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7750972684603579104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7750972684603579104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2010/01/guess-whos-back-back-again.html' title='Guess who&apos;s back, back again?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5619816257240048561</id><published>2009-08-10T23:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T23:16:23.299-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you.</title><content type='html'>Once in awhile I look at myself and realize how naive I am.&lt;br /&gt;No matter how hardened I think my heart has become, no matter how tough and knowledgeable I think I've become... every time I step back, I realize I am still the same naive girl who thinks she doesn't trust anyone, but really does just an ounce too much. The same naive girl who believes she has become lonely and bitter, but it still just as big-hearted as ever.&lt;br /&gt;I love people, I trust people. Unknowingly. Without effort.&lt;br /&gt;I both pride myself in that and hate myself for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5619816257240048561?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5619816257240048561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5619816257240048561' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5619816257240048561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5619816257240048561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-love-you.html' title='I love you.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7813488813778214283</id><published>2009-08-07T21:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T21:40:28.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Motivated.</title><content type='html'>Goals for...the future?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learn to love myself.&lt;br /&gt;Healthy healthy healthy. What else is new?&lt;br /&gt;Do extra well in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm motivated.&lt;br /&gt;A little unsure of how to achieve the first... but we'll work with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7813488813778214283?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7813488813778214283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7813488813778214283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7813488813778214283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7813488813778214283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/08/motivated.html' title='Motivated.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-3328790582283167028</id><published>2009-08-03T23:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T23:29:46.937-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm all for love.</title><content type='html'>I don't know what the hell I'm doing.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's just today, maybe it will pass.&lt;br /&gt;I hope so. I'm just really unhappy with myself, my life lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way I look.&lt;br /&gt;My body is just... ugh.&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand looking in the mirror, I hate every outfit I try on because nothing looks good on me.&lt;br /&gt;My face is constantly breaking out. Not bad. But it still looks like shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My social life.&lt;br /&gt;I hang out with my boyfriend... that's it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not complaining because I love him, I love spending time with him... but, I just wish I had girl friends. Me saying that won't change anything though, you don't just choose good friends. You find them, and so far I haven't found any.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of my boyfriend, I like him... a lot. I get really paranoid and I feel like he's getting bored of me, or that he's doing stuff without me knowing. I'm constantly thinking that he doesn't feel me as much as I feel him and that scares the shit out of me. I think I'm just fooling myself, I think I'm so used to not trusting people and not getting comfortable with a person. I'm getting comfortable with him and that scares the living shit out of me.&lt;br /&gt;Last time I thought a boy was different, last time I got comfortable and truly believed I wouldn't get my heart broken... well, that didn't work out. I guess I'm just waiting for this one to be the same. But I don't want it to. I really don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really pretty nervous about starting school. My mom got me a laptop as a graduation/birthday present. I love it, and I definitely feel like it will come in handy with schoolwork. I'm terrified that the work is going to be hard, so hard. What if I fail a test? I can't do that. But I HATE studying. I know it's going to be tough, but I don't want it to be... haha.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what I want to major in. Journalism is my declared major as of now, and I'm even going to try writing for my college's newspaper and see if I like it. I'm still not sure if I can do it as a career though. I'm kinda thinking of a career involving sports medicine... but I don't know, I'm sure that idea will pass as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's like I'm used to being lonely. Maybe I don't know how to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;I think I psyche myself out, like I'm subconsciously preventing myself from being happy.&lt;br /&gt;I've got a family who cares about me, a job, a car, a bed, a roof over my head, a boy who loves me... and I'm complaining?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, this blog really sucked and I hate it so much I wasn't even going to post it. But maybe one day I'll want to look back on it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, All For Love by Serena Ryder is stuck in my head right now. It's good, listen to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-3328790582283167028?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/3328790582283167028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=3328790582283167028' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3328790582283167028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3328790582283167028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-all-for-love.html' title='I&apos;m all for love.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8940214989518363551</id><published>2009-06-24T11:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T11:19:04.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Never gonna get it right.</title><content type='html'>I really wish I had girl friends.&lt;br /&gt;Scratch that, although it's what I once would have said, now I just wish I had friends.&lt;br /&gt;It's nice to have girls that you're super close to, something I haven't really had for a long time. Well, I've got Bekka, but sometimes she drives me crazy and it's nice to have a different perspective... I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;I guess all the guys I thought I was close to were really just trying to get with me. Lately I feel like I have no one to talk to, no one to hang with... maybe no one I feel comfortable hanging out with.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go swimming today but I bet I look like trash in my swimsuit, don't want to pay to get in the public pool, and don't have anyone to go with me anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I need to clean anyway.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll just do that and maybe go shopping... or wait until dinner with my dad.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of my dad, sometimes I feel like he's the only one who cares about me. Now I know for a fact that's not true, I just know that he loves me a lot, and it sucks because we haven't been close for years and I just don't know how to achieve that closeness to him... but I want to. I just don't feel like we ever will. =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8940214989518363551?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8940214989518363551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8940214989518363551' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8940214989518363551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8940214989518363551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/06/never-gonna-get-it-right.html' title='Never gonna get it right.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-192121514708007798</id><published>2009-06-17T08:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T08:53:24.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>:)</title><content type='html'>Last night, about 1am, a boy told me he loved me.&lt;br /&gt;I love him too. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up about 7am today, don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;I got two new workout DVDs this week - Billy Blanks Ultimate Tae Bo and Jillian Michaels Banish Fat, Boost Metabolism.&lt;br /&gt;They're both amazing.&lt;br /&gt;I just really need to clean up my diet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-192121514708007798?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/192121514708007798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=192121514708007798' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/192121514708007798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/192121514708007798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title=':)'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6407649509451502301</id><published>2009-06-11T22:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T22:22:57.504-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't you know who I think I am?</title><content type='html'>I jotted this down on the 8th.&lt;br /&gt;It's something, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;And when I say "you" I'm not talking about anyone in particular...until the end. But along with talking about someone else, I'm kind of talking about myself to? I don't know... weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes us act the way we do? Why does that change depending on who we're with and what we're doing? You can seem like a completely different person each time you're with a different friend.&lt;br /&gt;Which one is the real you? Or is it all you? Maybe you just can't figure out how to put it all together, to combine every side of yourself into one. Is that even possible? Should it be? Maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;Are you trying to be something you're not? Or is that the real you? What about the you I knew? The you I know? I don't know who you are. Do you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6407649509451502301?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6407649509451502301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6407649509451502301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6407649509451502301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6407649509451502301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-you-know-who-i-think-i-am.html' title='Don&apos;t you know who I think I am?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-3442623714320658009</id><published>2009-05-20T01:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T01:15:05.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You know, they all pretend.</title><content type='html'>You know what really pisses me off?&lt;br /&gt;Not feeling good enough. Not feeling good enough because people act like you're not good enough.&lt;br /&gt;I'm offended that all these loser guys think so low of me, think that I'm really going to hook up with them because they said "hey, let's fuck!", that they honestly get mad/offended/whatever when I'm like "oh wow, no thanks" or "hey, you're a douchebag!"&lt;br /&gt;I think it's funny how someone will talk to me, and when they figure out that I'm over them or that I'm simply not interested to begin with, they just throw me away. Or they flip out on me and then stop talking to me. Really? It kind of blows realizing that people don't think you're good for anything but an easy fuck.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even sure why people think this of me? I don't throw myself all over guys, I don't walk around in tiny clothes lookin' like a skank, whatever whatever whatever.&lt;br /&gt;Except as much as it hurts, having people practically tell you that you're not good enough to love... I hate it even more when a dude pretends to like you, and goes to all that trouble just to end up like every other asshole who tried to play you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, this blog has nothing to do with now.&lt;br /&gt;No guy is treating me like this right at this moment.&lt;br /&gt;I should probably stop thinking about the past.&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to let all you assholes know, that whatever fucked up impression you got of me player, it was WRONG. You keep pretending I'm not good enough, because in reality, I'm &lt;i&gt;too good for you&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck, this blog was really gay. Bye. :]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-3442623714320658009?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/3442623714320658009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=3442623714320658009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3442623714320658009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3442623714320658009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-know-they-all-pretend.html' title='You know, they all pretend.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-2733315213234358412</id><published>2009-05-18T22:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T22:48:20.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's burn our dreams into the skyline.</title><content type='html'>Alright, I had a very good weekend. (:&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday I graduated high school, and wow... it felt AMAZING.&lt;br /&gt;I kindof feel like it hit me, but now I'm back to not even feeling like I'll never be in high school again. Haha, weird right?&lt;br /&gt;Sunday was my party, and I felt like a decent amount of people showed up. I felt like it was probably kind of boring for the people who came, but I had fun, and since it's my party I'm gonna be a little selfish and say that's all that matters. ;P&lt;br /&gt;Last night I spent the night with Troy. He's kindof my favorite. I can't stop thinking about him... FUCK. Like, it freaks me out a little. I don't want to fall too hard, make an ass of myself, &amp;amp; get my heart broken. But I don't know, things feel pretty perfect right now. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about death a lot lately...&lt;br /&gt;I mean, this past weekend was a pretty big part of my life, and it just makes me think of how some people weren't there.&lt;br /&gt;Like, one day a person is here, and the next they aren't.&lt;br /&gt;You don't get to say goodbye, and you look back realizing that even though you spent tons of time with someone, you never in your whole life were able to let them know how much they mean to you. It really sucks.&lt;br /&gt;I should go visit my grandparent's graves soon.&lt;br /&gt;We used to go, but my mom doesn't anymore. I don't know, that's her business.&lt;br /&gt;But I'd like to go. I just don't really want to go alone. Except... I don't want to go with anyone.&lt;br /&gt;It's been awhile, but I'm pretty sure I'll be a mess. Ha. =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-2733315213234358412?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/2733315213234358412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=2733315213234358412' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2733315213234358412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2733315213234358412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/05/lets-burn-our-dreams-into-skyline.html' title='Let&apos;s burn our dreams into the skyline.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-3395031104277446101</id><published>2009-05-17T09:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T09:09:27.855-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss you.</title><content type='html'>Making this quick, so I can go get ready for my grad party.&lt;br /&gt;I'll blog about that and graduation later.. I just need to get this off my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all of a sudden, like seriously out of nowhere, it JUST hit me that my grandparents weren't there to see me graduate.&lt;br /&gt;I was just all of a sudden thinking about how they died, and I was like "Man, I really wish they could come to my party today."&lt;br /&gt;And it all hit me, and damn, it really blows, ya know? =/&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a bad person because I didn't think about this yesterday when I was graduating.&lt;br /&gt;Like I even thought about Scott and felt sad, but didn't remember my own grandparents? Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, this blog isn't conveying my emotion very well, so I'm stopping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-3395031104277446101?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/3395031104277446101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=3395031104277446101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3395031104277446101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3395031104277446101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-miss-you.html' title='I miss you.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1680671987206741840</id><published>2009-05-12T21:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T21:39:51.321-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Take the white pill, you'll feel alright.</title><content type='html'>Alright, I'm pretty proud of myself right now.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick and it pretty much blows, I'm really hoping that I get better before this weekend. I don't want to be sick at graduation or my party!&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, if you know me, you know that I have a MAJOR problem with swallowing pills.&lt;br /&gt;I've got an awful gag reflex and my mind just psyches me out and I just. can't. do. it.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm trying to get better ASAP, so I took a [chewable] vitamin, and rummaged through the medicine cabinet for some cold medicine.&lt;br /&gt;I found something prescribed to my mom forever ago. I don't know what it is, but I remember taking it before when I was sick, not knowing what it was then. Ahaha, so I'm not sure if I should take it.&lt;br /&gt;But I figured, hey, I used to be able to swallow Sudafed, they're tiny. Why not try?&lt;br /&gt;Weird right? I used to be able to swallow pills, then I couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;But I tried, and it didn't go down the first time, but I drank a couple more gulps of water and IT DID.&lt;br /&gt;I swallowed it! :D&lt;br /&gt;Oh gosh, I swallowed a tiny pill at age 17 and I'm excited about it. How lame is this? That was a rhetorical question, btw. ;P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1680671987206741840?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1680671987206741840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1680671987206741840' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1680671987206741840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1680671987206741840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/05/take-white-pill-youll-feel-alright.html' title='Take the white pill, you&apos;ll feel alright.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-774804439945471687</id><published>2009-05-06T17:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T17:07:43.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>talk shit talk shit talk shit.</title><content type='html'>I think it's so weird when I come upon people hearing shit about me that obviously isn't true.&lt;br /&gt;It's weird to think about how many people have heard and believed this, without me even knowing about it.&lt;br /&gt;It's not a big deal, I'm not mad about it, hell, I think it's funny... it's just weird to think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it hilarious that my ex and his friends have nothing better to do than sit around and talk shit about me, and to spread all this ridiculous bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;Boy, stop telling people I cheated on you when you know that's a god damn lie.&lt;br /&gt;I guess you forgot about how close we were.&lt;br /&gt;I still have your Blockbuster card and your credit card is still saved on my MAC account.&lt;br /&gt;You know how much better buying makeup makes me feel... ;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except honestly, I wouldn't do that. I'd feel bad, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, keep talking boy, funny how you've gotta lie to get people to feel sorry for you.&lt;br /&gt;And where's your life going again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-774804439945471687?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/774804439945471687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=774804439945471687' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/774804439945471687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/774804439945471687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/05/talk-shit-talk-shit-talk-shit.html' title='talk shit talk shit talk shit.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-96912897739181192</id><published>2009-04-30T21:23:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T21:39:02.809-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Got a secret, can you keep it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've always loved PostSecret, but I usually forget to check it.&lt;br /&gt;It makes me really sad that I can't go back and read the ones that I've missed. :(&lt;br /&gt;There's a spin-off called &lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/ljsecret"&gt;LJsecret&lt;/a&gt; that I regularly check too.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I save the secrets that I can relate to, here's a few I found on my computer, I suppose most of them are still pretty relevant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpfNkGvrkI/AAAAAAAAADQ/izeW0ppmpAo/s1600-h/z97635651.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpfNkGvrkI/AAAAAAAAADQ/izeW0ppmpAo/s320/z97635651.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330677795581308482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgRr29E1I/AAAAAAAAADw/KnBSoJu0gsc/s1600-h/4v5h7ie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgRr29E1I/AAAAAAAAADw/KnBSoJu0gsc/s320/4v5h7ie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330678965893665618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgkUsyLrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/oe6vnM6oSoY/s1600-h/failure.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgkUsyLrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/oe6vnM6oSoY/s320/failure.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330679286094507698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgCM-_N5I/AAAAAAAAADo/n0yL3Kjh82k/s1600-h/z68943687.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgCM-_N5I/AAAAAAAAADo/n0yL3Kjh82k/s320/z68943687.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330678699907823506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpfoNhqSOI/AAAAAAAAADY/tsq-dVHyUqY/s1600-h/z112630868.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpfoNhqSOI/AAAAAAAAADY/tsq-dVHyUqY/s320/z112630868.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330678253376653538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgopVl3PI/AAAAAAAAAEA/B5aC3wcZ1jU/s1600-h/afraid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpgopVl3PI/AAAAAAAAAEA/B5aC3wcZ1jU/s320/afraid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330679360353852658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-96912897739181192?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/96912897739181192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=96912897739181192' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/96912897739181192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/96912897739181192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/04/got-secret-can-you-keep-it.html' title='Got a secret, can you keep it?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SfpfNkGvrkI/AAAAAAAAADQ/izeW0ppmpAo/s72-c/z97635651.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-44394215164584719</id><published>2009-04-26T22:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T22:33:34.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where did I go wrong?</title><content type='html'>I am not content with life.&lt;br /&gt;but, I don't know what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to blog more.&lt;br /&gt;I NEED to blog more.&lt;br /&gt;At the moment, I don't have the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me finish the shit ton of homework I have and figure my life out after Friday. :|&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-44394215164584719?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/44394215164584719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=44394215164584719' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/44394215164584719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/44394215164584719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/04/where-did-i-go-wrong.html' title='Where did I go wrong?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-600853969405516116</id><published>2009-04-12T23:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T23:17:56.003-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't feel anything</title><content type='html'>I hit a deer tonight.&lt;br /&gt;A little after nine.&lt;br /&gt;I'm fine, physically.&lt;br /&gt;It's dead, physically.&lt;br /&gt;My car is fucked, still drives fine.&lt;br /&gt;But the left front and side is pretty fucked.&lt;br /&gt;I'll have to fix it, can't drive without a headlight,&lt;br /&gt;wonder where I'll find the money for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom talked to my dad, but she said I had to call him.&lt;br /&gt;He was drunk.&lt;br /&gt;He sounded stupid, and wasn't mean, just slightly rude about everything.&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholic piece of shit.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't felt this way in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;I had pretty much forgotten about all his shit, pretty much forgiven it, ya know?&lt;br /&gt;Until tonight when I realized how worthless he is.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm just mad, I'll feel awful for calling him worthless in a few days.&lt;br /&gt;But really? I don't even have to words for this.&lt;br /&gt;It's like a numb, empty hurt.&lt;br /&gt;Realizing your father is always going to be a jerk,&lt;br /&gt;and the people you think are your friends are only fucking you over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-600853969405516116?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/600853969405516116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=600853969405516116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/600853969405516116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/600853969405516116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-cant-feel-anything.html' title='I can&apos;t feel anything'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8199315819451441722</id><published>2009-04-09T23:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T23:14:51.951-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Give me your arms for the broken-hearted.</title><content type='html'>I totally forgot today was the 3oh!3 concert until I saw someone post a bulletin about it.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sad that missed seeing them, and especially The Maine. :( I love them.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I hung out with Tyler and it was super fun.&lt;33&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mainly, I just posted this to get something off my chest though.&lt;br /&gt;I see a lot of my friends in these tough, dramatic relationships. They're just in high school or college but they're putting themselves through these awful relationships because they think this person is their soulmate. I mean, I understand not everything is easy, but I don't understand.&lt;br /&gt;If your relationship sucks that bad, especially at such a young age, why are you still in it? Why would you still want to deal with that?&lt;br /&gt;I would just try to move on. I'd rather be happy. Nothing lasts forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8199315819451441722?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8199315819451441722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8199315819451441722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8199315819451441722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8199315819451441722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/04/give-me-your-arms-for-broken-hearted.html' title='Give me your arms for the broken-hearted.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8958962300427865337</id><published>2009-02-27T20:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T20:37:18.864-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls Next Door.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I need to remember to catch Girls Next Door finale on Sunday at 9. I've missed a ton of episodes over the years, but I've really come to love Holly, Bridget and Kendra and I'll miss watching the show. Apparently there will be a new season with the new girls, but I'm not sure how interested I'll be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I think these girls are absolutely adorable. They're gorgeous, intelligent, and are all accomplishing so much. They're inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;I want to make a Girls Next Door layout. xD Maybe I'll try that tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m209/badbutt1/girls_next_door.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8958962300427865337?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8958962300427865337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8958962300427865337' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8958962300427865337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8958962300427865337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/02/girls-next-door.html' title='Girls Next Door.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-4782406925187443427</id><published>2009-02-24T18:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T18:44:10.145-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustrated, disgusted, unmotivated...</title><content type='html'>On top of stress about college and scholarships, I haven't been eating healthy or working out, and I've been eating more. I don't know if it's out of stress or boredom or what.&lt;br /&gt;But honestly, the past few days I have felt so disgusted with myself. It's not even that I look in the mirror and get disgusted... usually. I just feel fat. My stomach just FEELS huge and I just want to run a million miles, except I still have NO motivation to exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bahh, I'm so frustrated right now. =/&lt;br /&gt;Like I can't even explain how much I hate myself right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-4782406925187443427?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/4782406925187443427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=4782406925187443427' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4782406925187443427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4782406925187443427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/02/frustrated-disgusted-unmotivated.html' title='Frustrated, disgusted, unmotivated...'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5616027931063819496</id><published>2009-02-19T21:43:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T22:15:05.522-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You're so nice &amp; you're so smart.</title><content type='html'>First of all, Audrey posted &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krgCwQbNO9k&amp;amp;eurl=http://feedmekicks.blogspot.com/&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded"&gt;this video&lt;/a&gt; and everyone needs to watch it. It honestly inspired me so much and gave me hope that maybe this world isn't such a terrible place, which is lately how I've been feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking a lot lately. Mostly about the point of life. I don't understand why people spend their entire lives going to school and working. Well, I do, because you need it to make money and you need money to survive... but it all seems so pointless. I just want to know what the point in having all these people doing these silly little things on this planet is? I want to know what we're supposed to be doing.&lt;br /&gt;I've always felt like I've had to make a difference. I will never be content with being one of those people who can work at McDonalds all my life and be content with that. I probably won't be content with any "normal" job, to be honest.&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people tell me I'm nice, some people tell me I'm one of the sweetest/nicest people they've ever met. Honestly, I love that. It makes me feel good and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to be that person, I want people to think of me as that way.&lt;br /&gt;I guess tonight I just realized that although I do consider myself to be a very nice person, that isn't good enough. Sometimes the way I treat people, especially the people I care about, is something I'm definitely not proud of.&lt;br /&gt;So as of tonight, I'm determined to change. I want to be known as that super sweet girl who will do anything for anyone, even someone she has just met.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't want people to get it confused with a girl who is easily taken advantage of. I've been down that road, and I'm sure some people still think that.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how to balance the two quite yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5616027931063819496?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5616027931063819496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5616027931063819496' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5616027931063819496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5616027931063819496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/02/youre-so-nice-youre-so-smart.html' title='You&apos;re so nice &amp; you&apos;re so smart.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-47647354306406803</id><published>2009-02-13T21:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T21:59:36.851-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All I ever think about is you.</title><content type='html'>I miss blogging but I feel like I never have anything to say worth reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to have a fashion or beauty blog but there are so many out there already. I feel like I don't have anything new or exciting to contribute to that world, so I'll stick to my boring blogs that no one reads. :P&lt;br /&gt;I still owe my mom $113, plus $20 for texting this month. I still have NO money saved for prom which is in about two months. :| I'm super stressed.&lt;br /&gt;Also, MAC's new Hello Kitty collection looks gorgeous. It was something I was really looking forward to, but I have no money for any of it. :( Bahhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to go make Valentine cards. I'll feel bad if I don't at least give my mom a card, and I want to make one for Stephen too since I've got no money and he's making me dinner. Maybe it will cheer him up, I'm worried about him lately.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-47647354306406803?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/47647354306406803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=47647354306406803' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/47647354306406803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/47647354306406803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-i-ever-think-about-is-you.html' title='All I ever think about is you.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5203757174575184521</id><published>2009-01-31T21:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T21:50:39.761-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Miss miserable, this drama scene is getting old."</title><content type='html'>A lot of the time, when I'm upset or I see people upset, I feel like it's normal. I feel like no one is ever going to be happy. I figure that if someone like Scott, who seemed so happy, couldn't be happy, then maybe the people who couldn't even pretend to be that happy are just destined to be miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him. I think they're planning a way to recognize him somehow at graduation, and I really hope they do. He deserves that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no money. I forgot to pick up my check today but that's ok because I won't be able to cash it until Monday anyway. I need to pay my mom back $230 still and somehow save for prom. I want to become a stripper for like a week, just so I can get enough money. But I'm not 18, and I couldn't bring myself to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to blog more, fersure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5203757174575184521?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5203757174575184521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5203757174575184521' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5203757174575184521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5203757174575184521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/miss-miserable-this-drama-scene-is.html' title='&quot;Miss miserable, this drama scene is getting old.&quot;'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-2540844787725683281</id><published>2009-01-23T20:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T20:19:34.268-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Do blondes really have more fun?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Although many people told me that doing this to my hair would be a mistake, I like it.&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't necessarily say that it looks better than other colors I've had before, but it's something I've never come close to doing before, and I'm happy with the way it turned out.&lt;br /&gt;The stylist who did is was a really sweet lady too. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_3566copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_3617copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost 3 hours and about $75 later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_3712copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_3696copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_3705copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_3725copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me know what you think. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-2540844787725683281?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/2540844787725683281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=2540844787725683281' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2540844787725683281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2540844787725683281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/do-blondes-really-have-more-fun.html' title='Do blondes really have more fun?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8073232290378913743</id><published>2009-01-22T21:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T21:34:17.978-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything hurts.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think God is playing a game with me.&lt;br /&gt;It's like, when I think that my life is going ok, everything just crashes down on me.&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I feel like every time I feel good enough about my life that I don't think about killing myself, or even cutting, that I think "I'm not going to hurt myself, I'm going to be okay", God laughs and says "Think again."&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm in some constant battle with him. What if I don't win? =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8073232290378913743?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8073232290378913743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8073232290378913743' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8073232290378913743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8073232290378913743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/everything-hurts.html' title='Everything hurts.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-4832641785797445928</id><published>2009-01-22T18:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T18:13:00.987-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey there, I like your hair.</title><content type='html'>I went over my text messages by almost 2000. =/ I now have unlimited, and I owe my mom $272...&lt;br /&gt;I'm also grounded for two weeks for "lying and being irresponsible." I get the lying part, but the irresponsible part is B.S. I think my mom's mostly just mad that I'm talking to Stephen again because we "don't make a good couple." Whatever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got a hair appointment tomorrow at 1:15. I think I'm going to do a platinum type blonde on top with black underneath, and black streaks in the bangs. I'm excited, I definitely want a huge change. But... I'm absolutely terrified that it will look ridiculously bad! :| I'm scared to even tell them what I want to do and have them look at me like "girl is you crazy?!" Oh jeez, I hope it will look good. Do you think it will?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-4832641785797445928?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/4832641785797445928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=4832641785797445928' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4832641785797445928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4832641785797445928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/hey-there-i-like-your-hair.html' title='Hey there, I like your hair.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-138069700093771965</id><published>2009-01-19T02:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T03:42:26.334-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Could you shoot a mothafucka?</title><content type='html'>Rachel: Jackie we know you're reading this! Lol.&lt;br /&gt;Blaze is trying to break out of this one room and come blog with us, freaking weirdo. He tried stretching like while he was on top of Audrey, it was really scary, I hope she doesn't sue us because we have no money and Blaze is just a rude dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Audrey: It's okay though, because I'm just going to sue her and that will make up for the 500 MAC blushes that I have to buy for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7/-* ,LYT53O  &lt; That was Blaze. He was licking the keyboard. I understand that he has a way with words that most people cannot comprehend, but he's like an effin dog genius. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel: Anyway, we took some super tight pictures and some really scary looking ones too. We put on makeup at midnight. Yay! This is like the coolest blog I've ever written.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Audrey: Rachel enjoys spending quality time with me at her house, even though half the time she was on the phone and the other half of the time we were just whispering to each other asking what we should be doing.  It's weird, but fun...I guess.  Oh yeah, there's this one boy that Rachel talks to.  He said that we were a apart of his dyke colony, but like..how can you be the leader of a colony if you aren't even dykin'?!  Rachel bought us pizza.  Except she was so broke that the pizza lady had to give us a break and not make us pay the whole amount!  I really thought Rachel was a better hooker than that, but what the hell...I guess she lost her touch.  Oh yeah! And her dad hates her...for various reasons.  We learned that today, but this creeper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel: He talked funny, like his teeth never moved. He was like very hilarious and weird. Audrey and I are imitating him right now, you should see it, it's kinda sexy. ;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Audrey: I wish Rach would quit bein a slut and just imitate the coke head on video.  Everything would all be great and gravy, then.  Now, we are being EXTRA bored, except I've never laughed this much.  I love her...almost.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-138069700093771965?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/138069700093771965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=138069700093771965' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/138069700093771965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/138069700093771965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/could-you-shoot-mothafucka.html' title='Could you shoot a mothafucka?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6372615906762785770</id><published>2009-01-18T00:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T00:26:22.909-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Makeup vanity + karaoke.</title><content type='html'>I am dying to get a makeup vanity for my room, so I can have a big pretty table to keep all my makeup on/in, with a big mirror, and a chair so I can just sit down and do my makeup and hair in my room every morning.&lt;br /&gt;They're so terribly expensive though. :(&lt;br /&gt;I really love &lt;a href="http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/80106502"&gt;this (link)&lt;/a&gt; one. It has some drawers and everything. But it's $179, plus shipping. Eek!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited for tomorrow. Well, not working 1-6, but afterwards when Audrey is gonna stay the night and we're gonna sing karaoke. Nobody would sing it with me tonight, so I'm kindof excited. Even though I CAN NOT SING. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6372615906762785770?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6372615906762785770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6372615906762785770' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6372615906762785770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6372615906762785770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/makeup-vanity-karaoke.html' title='Makeup vanity + karaoke.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-4743639603438489181</id><published>2009-01-16T22:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T22:44:25.318-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No matter what they say, don't believe a word.</title><content type='html'>It kind of sucks when your friends just blow you off, ignore you, or flat out ditch you.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well though, I suppose that it's my fault for choosing to surround myself with a majority of idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one person who knows just about every little thing about me is back in my life. We're trying to be careful and take things slow, but it's hard to do that. I'm happy, but also completely terrified. I haven't talked to anyone about it because I don't want everyone to know, especially if things end up the way they did before. I guess another reason I don't want to talk to people about it is that I don't want them to judge me and lecture me. I just feel like everyone will give me a lecture about how it's such a bad idea to let this person back into my life, when after having numerous conversations with this person, I feel like there is no reason not to.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well though, it's my life and I suppose if I ever regret the decision it will give people a reason to say "I told you so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Specktra finally started working for me again today. I wasn't expecting it to, but when I saw it load I got super excited. :D How nerdy is that? Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and tonight I went to dinner with my mom, brother, my aunt, and aunt's friend at Ruby Tuesday to celebrate my aunt's birthday. I had never been there before, but I wasn't really hungry, so I just got a burger and fries. It was pretty good, and it was actually fun. :] I miss spending time with my aunt...&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and my makeup looked really cute tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of getting tired of my hair. I was considering dying it, well I was planning on getting it highlighted again, but more this time, but it's so damn expensive! And I think I'm more in the mood for a cut change, I just have no idea how to cut it. I kind of want something a lot different than I've had in the past, but still cute. I have no idea what to do with it! =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-4743639603438489181?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/4743639603438489181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=4743639603438489181' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4743639603438489181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4743639603438489181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/no-matter-what-they-say-dont-believe.html' title='No matter what they say, don&apos;t believe a word.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6371068002059284342</id><published>2009-01-15T18:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T18:57:54.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I've been to the year 3000.</title><content type='html'>I'm looking up scholarships, I applied to UNO, I'm getting stuff done and starting to not be so terrified about my future.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still stressed, I've still got lots to do, but at this exact moment, with a list of scholarships I need to apply for in front of me, I feel secure.&lt;br /&gt;On my UNO application I said I wanted to be a journalism major. I've been contemplating that since I took journalism my sophomore and love it. I'm still not completely sure that it's what I want to do, but I do know that I enjoy being a part of the school paper and I'm going to give it a try. I still want to attend cosmetology school, I might try and start that during the summer? I'm not sure yet, but I will figure it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm pretty sure that I won't be touching any drug again soon. I don't know what happened yesterday, I thought it would help me feel better. I guess I felt happier? But I was embarassed about it, I didn't tell anyone about it because I didn't want them to think I was stupid or be disappointed in me. I don't know... I just know that it's useless, that I'm going to be happy without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still really sad that Specktra won't work on my computer. :( It's where I spend all my online time, and now I get bored without it.&lt;br /&gt;I really need to start working out more, I've been doing these short strength training videos most every day, but I haven't been doing much cardio. That should change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6371068002059284342?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6371068002059284342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6371068002059284342' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6371068002059284342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6371068002059284342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/ive-been-to-year-3000.html' title='I&apos;ve been to the year 3000.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6141933169665443833</id><published>2009-01-14T20:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T21:11:16.561-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This blog makes me feel ashamed.</title><content type='html'>I'm super upset that specktra.net will not work on my computer for who knows what reason. I know it's just my computer because a friend of mine can access it from hers, and it also works at school. I don't know how to make it work, but I need to, because I'm addicted to specktra. I miss it! Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very very tired right now.&lt;br /&gt;I think it's because I'm just so emotionally and physically exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;I've been eating way too much, like seriously, I shoved so much crap in my mouth today it was disgusting. And I haven't been working out nearly enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I got high with a boy who practically only smokes weed because he's not with me.&lt;br /&gt;We talked a lot, althought it was mostly about me.&lt;br /&gt;We shared a very long hug that was the best thing I've felt in so long.&lt;br /&gt;But maybe that doesn't mean anything.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm pretty sure it's not ok that I felt a lot better with a drug than without one. =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6141933169665443833?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6141933169665443833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6141933169665443833' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6141933169665443833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6141933169665443833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/this-blog-makes-me-feel-ashamed.html' title='This blog makes me feel ashamed.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7685405295670396744</id><published>2009-01-12T22:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T22:40:53.273-06:00</updated><title type='text'>When you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you...</title><content type='html'>I hate the constant reminders of you. Your best friend's girlfriend was telling my best friend about how you guys are super close, how you're soo cool, and how she totally needs to talk to me about some stuff... about you. As soon as I heard that, my stomach dropped. I'm anxious, I'm nervous... I want to know, but at the same time I feel completely scared and sick and I know that I'm better off just not knowing. I never really see her, so I'm sure I'll never find out anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another, but still slightly similar note... You know how some people believe that everyone has a soulmate? I want to believe that so desperately. I want there to be someone out there for me, that was meant to wake up next to me every morning. Except I kind of don't feel like there is.&lt;br /&gt;What about those people who never get married? What happened to their soulmate?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe my soulmate was out there, and just died in a fire before I was able to meet him. =/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I downloaded Taylor Swift's Fearless cd last night. I love it. The song Fifteen has been stuck in my head since then.&lt;br /&gt;"Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them."&lt;br /&gt;"Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7685405295670396744?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7685405295670396744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7685405295670396744' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7685405295670396744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7685405295670396744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-youre-fifteen-and-somebody-tells.html' title='When you&apos;re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you...'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1965694061555054655</id><published>2009-01-11T19:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:46:07.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't fuckin' care anymore. (And I never did!)</title><content type='html'>I feel bad because I didn't blog yesterday which kind of ruins my whole "blog every other day" thing, but I honestly didn't have time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I broke up with Jared. I told him I still liked him, I just wasn't ready for a relationship yet.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really not, it's way too soon. I'm still hurt over my last relationship, and I'm just all confused and scared and I really don't believe I can handle a relationship right now, or ever? =/ Also, I enjoy being single and flirting with cute boys. I like having my freedom and I feel happier being able to do whatever the hell I want.&lt;br /&gt;Also, he's just way too... childish... for me. Like, he's a bit younger than me, but I don't know. Like we were laying on Bekka's couch and he was getting up, and he hand brushed across my boob, and he started laughing? Like I thought only 11 year old boys did that? Also, we were at a "party" last night - which I'm mad about because we were supposed to go to a movie and so I wasted money on a ticket and we didn't even go, ugh! - and he got really high. So I'm taking back to his house and he doesn't even TALK TO ME, he FALL ASLEEP. So when we get to Council Bluffs I wake him up because I don't know how to get to his house, and he still keeps falling asleep. We were almost there and he goes "Oh, I think this is the wrong street." Luckily it wasn't or I was going to hit this boy! I think I was partly mad because I knew my mom would be angry that I was getting home so late, and we had left late, so I was trying to hurry and he wasn't helping. Plus, it just seemed so pointless and childish of him to do that when he has to know how it would affect him? Oh, and then he gave me some fucked up directions home but luckily I ended up by the mall and knew how to get home from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I'm too good for boys anyway :D Haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1965694061555054655?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1965694061555054655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1965694061555054655' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1965694061555054655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1965694061555054655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-fuckin-care-anymore-and-i-never.html' title='I don&apos;t fuckin&apos; care anymore. (And I never did!)'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1800805117585840120</id><published>2009-01-08T21:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T22:00:04.254-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's play a love game.</title><content type='html'>Today after school I got to see Audrey. :D Like right when I saw her I couldn't stop smiling.&lt;br /&gt;Ahahah, because I'm got a huge dyke crush on her. Just kidding, but I really miss seeing her at school, except it's okay because we're still going to be very good friends. I was excited because we looked at makeup and she got lots of hot stuff! She even bought me this mascara I've been wanting to try, even though SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE. She's sweet. :]&lt;br /&gt;I went to dinner with my brother and dad at Burger King.&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to this ghetto ass car wash! I get up there and find out that it doesn't take cards, only cash and doesn't give out change. Well I only has a $10 bill, so Bekka had to run in and get some change. After that we picked up Aramis and went to Council Bluffs to pick up my new boo. ;] When we took him back home I met his mom, grandma, and sisters. It was kind of weird, haha. But then it was fun because he walked me out to my car, Bekka and Aramis were in it, and we were just leaning on it being super silly. He's adorable. xD&lt;br /&gt;And I was actually on time coming home, due to being effing scared because I'm always late and my mom gets mad, and some hardcore speeding. Aramis was scared, hah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was kind of a lame post... sorry.&lt;br /&gt;I feel bad because I was going to do a workout video and then 30 minutes of cardio today, but I got busy and only did the video. =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1800805117585840120?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1800805117585840120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1800805117585840120' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1800805117585840120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1800805117585840120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/lets-play-love-game.html' title='Let&apos;s play a love game.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-220155928795883558</id><published>2009-01-06T21:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T22:08:40.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I sat here for 15 minutes trying to come up with a witty title, and failed.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So as always, MAC put me in a fabulous mood. :D The makeup artist that helped me was super nice and helpful, and I feel like I really got a lot for my money.&lt;br /&gt;If anyone is interested, here's what I got:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_3374.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penultimate liner, Golden bronzing powder, Springsheen blush, Dame blush, Viva Glam V lipstick, 168 brush, Shroom e/s, Woodwinked e/s, Brun e/s, Vanilla e/s.&lt;br /&gt;(These aren't in order of the picture, so if you've got a question, just ask!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to Council Bluffs with Bekka and hung out with Tyler and Jared. It was fun, as always with those two. And this adorable boy named Jared asked me out. :] I'm really excited, but also really nervous, and looking forward to just taking it slow, getting to know him, and having fun.&lt;br /&gt;I'm also looking forward to my early out on Thursday because I get to see my soulmate, Audrey! We shall definitely have to have a sleepover one night and spend all night talking about makeup and graphics. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-220155928795883558?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/220155928795883558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=220155928795883558' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/220155928795883558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/220155928795883558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-sat-here-for-15-minutes-trying-to.html' title='I sat here for 15 minutes trying to come up with a witty title, and failed.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8515165067671768673</id><published>2009-01-04T20:27:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T20:27:57.929-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this.</title><content type='html'>I hate this feeling.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you wouldn't have texted me, telling me all that stuff that you did. I wish you wouldn't have said that you think about me every day. I wish you hadn't made it seem like you missed me. Because ever since then I've been thinking about you more. I guess just hearing that made me feel like it was okay to think about you too. Except it's really not okay because &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it hurts&lt;/span&gt;. I wish that I didn't wake up this morning as lonely as ever after having a stupid dream about you. I wish that I would stop randomly remembering all the good times, and I wish that I didn't wish that this had never happened.&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of feeling this aching emptiness, this loneliness, every fucking minute of every day. But I don't know how to make it stop. =/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tomorrow I'm going to take my Christmas money and go to MAC and buy some fabulous fucking makeup, I'm thinking some neutral eyeshadows and some lipsticks, maybe a blush or two... because that's what makes me feel better, that's what I get excited about. &lt;3 The other day I was telling Jess about my Coastal Scents palette with the 88 colors of eyeshadow in it. I guess she told everyone else about it because today at work Dennis was making fun of me. He's all "Estee Lauder is jealous because they don't have as large a selection as you." Hahah. :]&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully this shopping trip will put me in a better mood.&lt;br /&gt;Also, today is the start of my working out for the year. I'm going to try and make it last all year this time. I'm doing a "New You Bootcamp" on http://teens.sparkpeople.com and today is the first day of that. I'm pretty excited about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8515165067671768673?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8515165067671768673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8515165067671768673' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8515165067671768673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8515165067671768673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-swear-i-didnt-mean-for-it-to-feel.html' title='I swear I didn&apos;t mean for it to feel like this.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-4738040324846623797</id><published>2009-01-03T23:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T23:41:17.317-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just keep swimming.</title><content type='html'>Today I got off work an hour and ninteen minutes early. :]&lt;br /&gt;Ryan and I went to the Double Tree Hotel to go swimming with my dad, his girlfriend, and her family. It was kind of fun.&lt;br /&gt;Then we tried cleaning off my windshield with water [there's no wiper fluid!] and it was freezing on the windsheild. And our hair was all wet and frozen too. Hahaha, omg. Then we stopped and got Godfathers like right before it closed, mmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lonely all the time now.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to fix it... =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-4738040324846623797?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/4738040324846623797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=4738040324846623797' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4738040324846623797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4738040324846623797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-keep-swimming.html' title='Just keep swimming.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7631892997452387901</id><published>2009-01-01T23:09:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T23:44:31.318-06:00</updated><title type='text'>If you be my star, I'll be your sky.</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure that Boats and Birds by Gregory and the Hawk is going to be my favorite song for the rest of my life, it's the sweetest, prettiest song I've ever heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to write a blog that's beautiful, and than can explain just how I'm feeling right now. Which means that this blog is probably going to end up sounding stupid, because I can never find the rights words to express myself, maybe because I don't even really know what I'm feeling or what my fucking problem is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what? I don't know what to do with myself. I'm fucking scared and lost and most of all, lonely. I am lonely all the time, unless I'm with someone, and sometimes even when I'm with someone.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been with Stephen for just over a month now, but it's January 1st and things just feel weird. It's a new year, I'm starting this new year, one of the most important years of my life... without him. It's weird to think that he used to be my best friend and then one day, he was just gone. It's even weirder that it's been this easy. I don't cry every day, I don't wish he was with me every time I go somewhere, I'm not miserable every time I wake up in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;That doesn't mean I don't miss him. Honestly, thank God that I'm not the horrible wreck that I was last time. But, it still hurts. I just keep thinking about the good times, and it's so weird to realize that that's gone.&lt;br /&gt;He texted me on Tuesday, and I thought it would be okay. "I know we don't talk but if you would just tell me how you've been..." and so I figured it would be a perfectly fine conversation. But it didn't work out like that. We argued a little bit about the break up, and he made me feel bad when in all reality I shouldn't feel bad at all.&lt;br /&gt;What really pissed me off is that he told me there were reasons that he broke up with me that I didn't know about. Okay, really? There was no need to say that unless you planned on telling me. Not that it would matter, since we're not together, we're not getting back together, so why the fuck would you even say that? Why would you tell me that you cry every night unless you're drunk?&lt;br /&gt;Why the fuck should I feel bad about that? You broke up with me! You told me you didn't know if you loved me anymore, you told me that you were unhappy with our relationship. And NOW you want to try and turn your stories around and sit here acting like you're so devastated to not be with me when you're the one who broke my fucking heart?&lt;br /&gt;Fuck that! I'm so mad about it... still. I guess I thought maybe if we talked about it, I would get a sense of closure. I still don't know what to say when people ask why we broke up, because I kind of don't know why. But apparently Stephen can't handle talking to me and telling me, and I'm okay with that. I don't plan on talking to him again because I shouldn't have to continue going through this. There is no need for me to jump into my car after work and bawl my eyes out the entire drive home because I was reminded of what was and what will never be again.&lt;br /&gt;I can do this. I know I can. It just hurts, and I'm lonely, and it's weird going back into this world where boys think it's okay to use me.&lt;br /&gt;It's like I want to be in a relationship, but then I don't because I don't feel like it will work, so there's no point? =/&lt;br /&gt;I definitely think I need to move on before I get into a relationship though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about that.&lt;br /&gt;Last night was really nice, and made me adore this lady named Audrey even more than I already did. I picked up Bekka, David, and Audrey and drove around forever, getting all sorts of lost trying to find Suzi's grandma's house. We finally got there and had this delicious pizza that my fat ass is major craving right now. Of course, I got lost on the way home too. It was out in the country, lots of dirt roads and trees, so everyone was getting scared and it was pretty hilarious to be honest.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, last night, it was almost midnight and Audrey and I were in Walmart to use the bathroom. We were really about to spend new years in a Walmart bathroom, and I decided that was definitely not okay. So at 11:59 we start running, because we HAVE to be outside. We're almost out the door and this old lady is all "NO RUNNING, YOU'LL FALL." Ahaha, it was SO funny. We get outside and it's still 11:59. Then I'm staring at my phone, waiting for it to say 12:00AM and when it does I'm doing this weird sort of dance and yelling with Audrey. :]&lt;br /&gt;Then this creeper driving through the parking lot almost breaks his neck because his eyes wouldn't stop looking at Audrey and I. We walk past him on our way back to my car and he's just looking at us, cheesin' super hard. So I tell him happy new year and he doesn't even stop grinning to say "you too!" I think Audrey might leave me for him, to be honest. ;]&lt;br /&gt;We then had our first Burger King of the year - I had a hamburger with no pickle and a vanilla milkshake.&lt;br /&gt;Yum.&lt;br /&gt;So basically, I don't know why, but I felt like I got closer to Audrey last night and I love it! I'm going to miss seeing her at school but it's going to be okay because I love her and we're gonna be super tight friends and hang out way more. &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7631892997452387901?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7631892997452387901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7631892997452387901' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7631892997452387901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7631892997452387901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-you-be-my-star-ill-be-your-sky.html' title='If you be my star, I&apos;ll be your sky.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5290877593958374088</id><published>2009-01-01T14:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T14:48:24.992-06:00</updated><title type='text'>one one oh nine!</title><content type='html'>First post of the new year! :]&lt;br /&gt;I'm determined to make this year a good one.&lt;br /&gt;I've got some pretty amazing friends, and I'm really excited about trying to spend a lot more time with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are my new years resolutions:&lt;br /&gt;- Move on, let go.&lt;br /&gt;- Get down to 140 by prom (aka lose about 7 lbs.)&lt;br /&gt;- Get into cosmetology school.&lt;br /&gt;- Work out 5 days a week.&lt;br /&gt;- Blog at least every other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really terrified about the first one to be honest. =/&lt;br /&gt;I am excited for the new year, but honestly, I'm really scared too.&lt;br /&gt;It's really going to be different...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5290877593958374088?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5290877593958374088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5290877593958374088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5290877593958374088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5290877593958374088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2009/01/one-one-oh-nine.html' title='one one oh nine!'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-490632823600375732</id><published>2008-12-31T11:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T11:30:58.476-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace out, oh eight.</title><content type='html'>Koua posted a note on Facebook talking about the highlights of his year, and I wanted to do the same. Mine probably won't be as good as his because my memory, or my brain in general, doesn't work too well. ;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January: Nothing too exciting happened, that I can remember. I think that's when Stephen got his tattoo and we made some bomb ass homemade pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February: That's when I got my new bed! I was excited, it even has a canopy, but I don't have one that matches my sheets haha. That's when my mom finally met Shane when we went to his Pride Players thing. I hung out with Micah after not seeing him in a million years. :] I had a pretty adorable/romantic Valentines Day. We were eating this amazing dinner he cooked for me by the fire and his dad came in and turned on this really pretty celtic-type music, hahaha. I tried to dye my tips pink but it didn't show up super well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March: I found and purchased my prom dress. I got my first turtle, Monster! I went to the Back in Time dance to sell stuff to rasie money for newspaper. I looked really cute but it was a really crappy night. =/ I celebrated my one year with Stephen and he bought me Godfathers.&lt;3 In the pictures I look like I had been crying... I wonder why because I don't remember that, ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April: I went to Cali for the j-lism convention with Andrea, Jessica, and Jake. My camera got a bunch of salt water in it from when we went to the beach and I thought it was broken but later it magically started working again. It was just really fun. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May: Prom! We went to dinner with Nicalette and Shane, and it was just overall pretty fun. I got my mom a pretty necklace for mothers day. The bomb threat at school! Hahah, that was one of the best days, no lie. End of junior year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June: I attended this summer writing workshop, it was okay I guess. Stephen and I went swimming with his sister at her aparment complex a few times. The Cobra Starship on Nicalette's birthday! That was fun. I felt more confident about myself and finally bought a bikini... and wore it. I could still use a little toning up though. Ryan and I got our first dog, Brutus! I think this was the month I got rid of Monster...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July: I worked all day on the 4th and then went to the country club to watch fireworks with Ryan, my mom, and Stephen. It was pretty. :] We spent a lot of time taking care of Brutus. I got my new turtle. He was so tiny, like seriously the size of a fifty cent piece. Awh, he's gettin' bigger but I still love him. I was trying to practice my makeup skills more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August: I got my hair dyed and highlighted at the salon. It cost a lot, but it looked hot. I got my senior pictures taken. I went to my dad's company picnic at FunPlex, went swimming a lot, and had one of my flip flops fall off on one of the rides. That was a pretty fun day. I got my running shoes, which I don't use often enough. I made my first MAC purchase and that's when my extreme makeup addiction started. I don't remember what I did on my birthday, except for that I had an early out and I went to Sephora and stuff with Stephen and his sister. I had a "party" with family but I don't think that was on my actual birthday. I made my second MAC purchase from the Cult of Cherry collection, and I still love that fucking Spiced Chocolate quad.&lt;3 I went to a few places with Bekka and that creepy guy at dollar tree talked to her. "I saw you shakin' them hips to the YMCA." Lmfao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September: I got this unflattering homecoming dress and took it back. Bought more MAC. We had to get rid of Brutus because he was really aggressive. That sucked. =/ Bekka and I got in trouble for taking pictures in Walmart. We got Blaze, our new puppy. Awh, he was so little. I went to the pumpkin patch with Stephen and enjoyed acting like a kid again. Bekka and I made a lot of stupid videos this month, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October: I used fake eyelashes for the first time. I made these deliciously adorable Halloween cupcakes with Bekka and took an hour to decorate 12, haha. Oh, it was homecoming week! Rockstar day was favorite, I wore fishnets and super teased my hair. Haha, I probably looked like a prostitute. I decided that I would never again put aluminum foil in my mouth because that shit hurts. Stephen and I got super lost trying to get to the homecoming game, and it ended up being really boring, so we left and got Godfathers. :] Homecoming was fun, even though the zipper on my dress is kind of a pain in the ass and my heels killed my feet. Stephen and I practiced making scary looking cuts with makeup, lol. We had Spooktacular at the zoo and I dressed up like a zebra! That was hot, haha. Halloween was really fun. I helped my mom with her kindergarden class party and got mistaken as the mother of a 5 year old, oh jeez! =/ I walked around with Bekka, Tami, Erin, and Stephen... and went to a haunted house with Stephen and Suzi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November: I got my heart broken... twice. =/ I saw Kyle again after not seeing him for months.&lt;3 I went to see Twilight with Ryan, Suzi, and Johnny and my brother made me laugh for like 10 hours straight. "I'm straight and even I'm starting to fall for him!" I got my Coastal Scents 88 palette from Stephen, holy shit I love that thing. I got grounded for something stupid after not being grounded for a really long time. Thanksgiving was nice, I hadn't seen my aunt much lately and it's been nice being able to spend more time with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;December: I started hanging out with Garret more, that's my bestie dude.&lt;3 I went to the Hollywood Undead concert with Andrea and made fun of nasty kids in the mosh pit and 12 year olds who were in love with us, ahahaha. I started hanging out with Aramis more, that's been nice. Audrey's birthday party! That was fun, I hope she thought so too. I got closer to the newspaper staff, especially Tristan.&lt;3 I had a baby with Log Watts, it's a beautiful girl with long hair, lmfao. I got married to Suzi but she's a terrible wife, to be honest. Haha. I had a pretty simple, but nice Christmas with my family and spent the day after with my dad's family. I reconnected with a lot of old friends, and I'm getting closer to a lot of people. I love it! Tonight will be fun too. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think this has all the emotional type stuff, because I was looking through pictures to try and see what I did, and obviously I wasn't taking pictures while I was bawling my eyes out or when I couldn't stop smiling.&lt;br /&gt;So really, this little timeline sort of sucked, but oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't fucking wait for 2009. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-490632823600375732?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/490632823600375732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=490632823600375732' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/490632823600375732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/490632823600375732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/peace-out-oh-eight.html' title='Peace out, oh eight.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-106963089604357843</id><published>2008-12-29T23:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T23:39:09.403-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks for the memories.</title><content type='html'>What happens when you miss your past, but you know that things can never go back to how they were?&lt;br /&gt;What are you supposed to do then?&lt;br /&gt;=/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I am optimistic about the future.&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-106963089604357843?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/106963089604357843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=106963089604357843' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/106963089604357843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/106963089604357843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/thanks-for-memories.html' title='Thanks for the memories.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-3705356284494480237</id><published>2008-12-29T00:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T00:31:51.783-06:00</updated><title type='text'>People you may know.</title><content type='html'>Random thought: Today was the first day in a long ass time that I didn't wear makeup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how Facebook has that "people you may know" thing, and how now Myspace has it too? Well, I was really bored today and so I clicked on it (the Myspace one.) I don't know why because I never find people I know, or people I know well enough to want to add.&lt;br /&gt;But I just kept clicking "see more" and after a few clicks, Scott's page came up.&lt;br /&gt;I knew it was his before I even clicked but I opened his page anyway.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, but I automatically checked the "last login" thing, like I expected it to be today or yesterday or something. But it wasn't, it was October 9th. Two days before he died.&lt;br /&gt;I just kind of miss him, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-3705356284494480237?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/3705356284494480237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=3705356284494480237' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3705356284494480237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3705356284494480237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/people-you-may-know.html' title='People you may know.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5349659798961178216</id><published>2008-12-27T21:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T21:14:34.875-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fucked and left for dead.</title><content type='html'>Last night was pretty fun. :]&lt;br /&gt;Staying up until 4:30am, even though you have to work at 10am, getting less than 4 hours of sleep to spend time with people you love and actually not being tired for work is also pretty fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then reality hits you.&lt;br /&gt;And you realize that it happened again. It's just another game.&lt;br /&gt;You're always playing this fucking game, and you're not as good as you think you are, so you're the one getting played.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tired of people telling me how pretty I am.&lt;br /&gt;Really? Because sure, maybe I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretty&lt;/span&gt;. Pretty enough to fuck, but not pretty enough to date.&lt;br /&gt;This is how it always happens.&lt;br /&gt;"I just don't want a girlfriend right now" roughly translates to "I don't want to be with you, but I want to keep fucking you"&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even saying this like I'm sitting here fucking people. I mean it with even just like anything remotely sexual or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;Ha, this always happens. I should be used to it right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a toy, really.&lt;span class="text"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;doll: a small replica of a person; &lt;i&gt;used as a toy&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5349659798961178216?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5349659798961178216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5349659798961178216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5349659798961178216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5349659798961178216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/fucked-and-left-for-dead.html' title='Fucked and left for dead.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6607430922443547958</id><published>2008-12-20T18:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T18:59:32.112-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Slippin' down a slide, I did enjoy the ride.</title><content type='html'>I feel like I need to blog, but I don't know what to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a shitty ass mood.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently there is a big "use me" sign on my forehead, and I was compeltely unaware of it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm lonely and people take advantage of that, and I let them because it makes me happy, makes me feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past couple years of my life were just one big joke.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't even care.&lt;br /&gt;I'm craving pizza and someone to cuddle with, two things I won't be getting tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Lovely. =/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6607430922443547958?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6607430922443547958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6607430922443547958' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6607430922443547958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6607430922443547958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/slippin-down-slide-i-did-enjoy-ride.html' title='Slippin&apos; down a slide, I did enjoy the ride.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6594206950279617805</id><published>2008-12-14T00:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T00:01:51.749-06:00</updated><title type='text'>AUDREY THOMPSON.</title><content type='html'>This blog is just for Audrey.&lt;br /&gt;Because I don't know what to blog about.&lt;br /&gt;And because I absolutely love her.&lt;br /&gt;And because she just turned eighteen! :D&lt;br /&gt;And because I get to hang out with her a shit ton tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Well, today.&lt;br /&gt;And because I'm pretty effin' excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, did I mention that she's amazing?&lt;br /&gt;I love you Audrey,&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad I didn't have to sign up on eharmony to find you.&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha.&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday babygirl, I hope you have fun with me &amp;amp; Jess today. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6594206950279617805?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6594206950279617805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6594206950279617805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6594206950279617805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6594206950279617805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/audrey-thompson.html' title='AUDREY THOMPSON.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7250110998401189310</id><published>2008-12-10T18:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T18:48:33.068-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm afraid to admit that I'm scared.</title><content type='html'>I'm blogging, just for Audrey. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got a lot of feelings, and a lot of thoughts. I don't know where they come from, but sometimes I'd really like to just shut my brain down and tell myself to fuck off.&lt;br /&gt;I like someone? Well, I guess two people. But I told one I didn't want to do anything because I liked the other. I mean, I don't want to date anyone, but I feel weird just liking and messing around with two guys at the same time. Ha, I don't know. I'm afraid that things are gonna be weird now that I said something, like I'll regret it, but oh well. I think I'm just paranoid, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, everyone's talking about these colleges they got accepted to and it freaks me the fuck out because I haven't applied to any yet. =/&lt;br /&gt;I used to be excited for growing up and now I'm just absolutely terrified.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to apply, it's too much work.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to even go because I'm afraid of being alone, and everyone's just going different places.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't want to face life, or reality.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go back to being a little kid when everything was a million times easier.&lt;br /&gt;I need a hottie with a time machine, please. (: Hahah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'm pretty sure people should stop trying to talk to me about Stephen.&lt;br /&gt;Because I really don't give a fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically. I am so fucking scared of the future, to the point where I just don't want to deal with it. AT ALL.&lt;br /&gt;fuck my life. hah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7250110998401189310?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7250110998401189310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7250110998401189310' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7250110998401189310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7250110998401189310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-afraid-to-admit-that-im-scared.html' title='I&apos;m afraid to admit that I&apos;m scared.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6200713014727018008</id><published>2008-12-04T21:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T21:52:41.276-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Say that I'm the only one, but I know it's just a lie.</title><content type='html'>I was talking to Bekka about this, and I figured I might as well post a blog about it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I've completely thought out how I feel about this, but this is roughly my opinion. Feel free to disagree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly do not want to be in a relationship. I don't see the point.&lt;br /&gt;You're with someone for who knows how long, and then it ends. And&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; it hurts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that there is one person out there for me, one person that I'm supposed to be with forever.&lt;br /&gt;I do believe that love is important and well, the best thing maybe even the greatest achievement, in life. I believe that people were meant to love and form relationships, but I mean this as friend and family bonds as well as romantic types.&lt;br /&gt;Some people say you only fall in love once, but I don't believe that either. Most likely, you will love more than one person in your life, and I don't think one love will outweigh the rest, they will just be different kinds of love.&lt;br /&gt;People break up after dating for years, being married for years, and I feel like that just proves that you are not meant to be with one person. Many people who stay together for years have crappy, unhappy relationships anyway. =/&lt;br /&gt;So, I don't see the point in being with someone. Why tell them all my secrets and pull them closest to me so that they can leave?&lt;br /&gt;But then, I don't want people to think they can just take advantage of me because I don't want to date...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows, dude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6200713014727018008?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6200713014727018008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6200713014727018008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6200713014727018008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6200713014727018008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/say-that-im-only-one-but-i-know-its.html' title='Say that I&apos;m the only one, but I know it&apos;s just a lie.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1339917670411351914</id><published>2008-12-02T19:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T20:12:43.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I dreamed I was missing...</title><content type='html'>I felt like that song needed it's own post, hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm feeling pretty lonely right now.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't really want to call anyone, and I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;I'm just really scared that it hasn't fully hit me yet,&lt;br /&gt;and that one day it's going to and it's going to hurt just like it did before. Or worse? :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, about the friend I was talking about earlier.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I felt silly for writing that post because we hung out and it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;But then today, we were going to hang out and they just didn't seem to want to, and I called them an hour ago, just to talk, not hang out, and they haven't called back.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I shouldn't put so much trust in one person.&lt;br /&gt;But they make me happy when they're around. =/&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. Blah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1339917670411351914?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1339917670411351914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1339917670411351914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1339917670411351914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1339917670411351914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-dreamed-i-was-missing.html' title='I dreamed I was missing...'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1386203834124380866</id><published>2008-12-02T19:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T19:58:23.569-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Boston by Augustana.</title><content type='html'>Honestly, I love this song. I feel like it was meant for me to hear, although I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;I could listen to it on repeat for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh it has begun...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Oh dear you look so lost, eyes are red and tears are shed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; This world you must've crossed... you said...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; She said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Essential yet appealed, carry all your thoughts across&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; An open field,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; When flowers gaze at you... they're not the only ones who cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; When they see you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; You said...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; She said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; She said I think I'll go to Boston...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I think I'll start a new life,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I think I'll get a lover and fly em out to Spain...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I think I'll go to Boston,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I think that I'm just tired&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice... oh yeah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Boston... where no one knows my name... yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Where no one knows my name...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Where no one knows my name...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Yeah Boston...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Where no one knows my name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1386203834124380866?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1386203834124380866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1386203834124380866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1386203834124380866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1386203834124380866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/12/boston-by-augustana.html' title='Boston by Augustana.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-2933331537874222100</id><published>2008-11-30T20:28:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T20:37:54.373-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You don't know, you don't even care.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;'m very surprised at how much easier this has been.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;" &gt;It hurts, yes, and well, I think maybe it doesn't hurt as bad because it doesn't feel real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;" &gt;I hope things don'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;t come crashing down and hurting more, I like it better just hurting but still wanting to move forward with my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;I just get lonely a lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;I don't know who to turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;" &gt; to...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;" &gt;the people I try to, I don't know. I think they'll be there for me but then they just... don't call back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Hah, so I'm basically t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;alking about one person, that I really want to be friends with, I just don't really know what's up? Whenever we plan to hang out or they say they'll call back, they don't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;It just bugs me. I think they want to be my friend, but I just don't get what the deal is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Blah, I&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; don't want to go to school tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yay for early outs, I guess. I'll probably just get bored and lonely. =/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It’s not enough&lt;br /&gt;It’s not enough&lt;br /&gt;It never was or will be&lt;br /&gt;I never had the chance to thank you&lt;br /&gt;for ripping out my heart."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Ever since the first time I heard the song Boston by Augustana it has been the most beautiful song I've ever heard. I love it.&lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-2933331537874222100?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/2933331537874222100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=2933331537874222100' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2933331537874222100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2933331537874222100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/you-dont-know-you-dont-even-care.html' title='You don&apos;t know, you don&apos;t even care.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6370766879853738521</id><published>2008-11-29T22:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T22:40:41.315-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a loser with a broken heart...</title><content type='html'>Me &amp;amp; Stephen broke up.&lt;br /&gt;I think it's for good this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm going to be okay,&lt;br /&gt;but it hurts and it's scary and I just don't want to go through the whole hurt and healing process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, the way he's been since we got back together...&lt;br /&gt;it wasn't the same. I think I know he wasn't the one for me.&lt;br /&gt;I just wish he was so that I wouldn't have to hurt. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6370766879853738521?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6370766879853738521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6370766879853738521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6370766879853738521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6370766879853738521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/just-loser-with-broken-heart.html' title='Just a loser with a broken heart...'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8056177090683396999</id><published>2008-11-26T23:15:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T23:21:12.881-06:00</updated><title type='text'>one step closer to the edge.</title><content type='html'>I haven't been grounded in a reallyyyy long time.&lt;br /&gt;It feels so weird.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how long it'll be for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeez, this is SO weird.&lt;br /&gt;I really don't want to type out all the shit, but it's for a pretty stupid reason that's basically my fault.&lt;br /&gt;It just sucks though?&lt;br /&gt;I love how parents freak out on kids and scream at them, treat them like shit, &amp;amp; punish them.&lt;br /&gt;I think that if my parents would just sit down and calmly talk to me about why they're mad, why it's not okay, etc it would be a LOT better. Especially since they were doing the same damn things when they were young?&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I don't have to stay here much longer, well, it might have to be another year still. :|&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to hurt my mom by leaving, or get in a huge fight with her, but it's bound to happen.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be happy with my life and get rid of all this crazy stress and hurt that she constantly causes me because she's stressed or hurt.&lt;br /&gt;Blahhh. It's not fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I haven't blogged enough lately so this is for Audrey. (: Seriously, I wasn't even going to log onto blogger but I promised her I'd blog tonight. And it made me feel a little better, so thanks Audrey I love youuu!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8056177090683396999?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8056177090683396999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8056177090683396999' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8056177090683396999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8056177090683396999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-step-closer-to-edge.html' title='one step closer to the edge.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6802562012841444046</id><published>2008-11-23T18:18:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T18:30:47.367-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I like a girl with caked-up makeup.</title><content type='html'>I made this layout forever ago, but I couldn't figure out how to get the comments to show up. Today I decided to mess around with it again and I fixed it! (: I'm not sure if I like the layout anymore though, I don't like how the entries and comments are set up I guess. Oh well... I'll change it one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made my Christmas list today! I want gift cards and money mostly, for clothes and makeup of course! I also want one of those wool peacoats as well as those snowboarding boots I already posted and some thermals and pj pants from Victoria's Secret Pink collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the CS 88 palette came to Stephen's house on Friday. I ended up having to stay after school to finish my page for newspaper and so he gave me a ride home and gave me the palette! I'm in love with it already. I used it to do a red/black makeup look that night when I went to see Twilight with Ryan, Suzi, &amp;amp; Johnny. Obviously the book was better, but I loved the movie! I wish they wouldn't have changed so many little details, but aside from that, for the time and budget they had, I think they did really well. I want to see it again! &lt;3 I used it again to do this cute yellow/green look today. I have to give it back to Stephen on Tuesday though - so he can wrap it and give it to me for Christmas! :P He thought I was just going to use it for Friday but I couldn't help it today, I saw this pretty look on a Youtube video and I wanted to try it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a bad night at work and so I went to his house for a little while this morning. Which of course caused my mom to to bitch about how our relationship is too serious and blahblahblah. I'm so tired of it, she's always complaining about shit and it's just rude and unnecessary. She's only happy if you do whatever she wants and if you don't, then you're "not even listening to her and you don't think she knows anything." Blah, I'm done with it. Anyway, we got doughnuts and chocolate milk at Bakers, it was yummy! I haven't had doughnuts in quite a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, I need a new job because I get no hours at the zoo. I'm not mad about it, the winter season is slow as hell, it's expected, but I need to work more than 4-6 hours a week so I can get some money in the bank!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... I really want to write. I just want to write so bad, something beautiful. I just have no ideas of what to write about, like always. I fail. :|&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6802562012841444046?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6802562012841444046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6802562012841444046' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6802562012841444046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6802562012841444046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-like-girl-with-caked-up-makeup.html' title='I like a girl with caked-up makeup.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1644202154522832387</id><published>2008-11-20T21:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T21:58:32.475-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick of school.</title><content type='html'>I just want to quit school and do makeup all the time.&lt;br /&gt;That is truly all I want.&lt;br /&gt;:|&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1644202154522832387?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1644202154522832387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1644202154522832387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1644202154522832387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1644202154522832387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/sick-of-school.html' title='Sick of school.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-9050897422306372960</id><published>2008-11-17T22:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T22:06:23.973-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Super excited!</title><content type='html'>I'm super excited, I order my 88 piece makeup palette today (the one I posted about two days ago.)&lt;br /&gt;My mom was bitching at me telling me that I couldn't order it and that I shouldn't use Stephen's card, so Stephen told me to order it, have it shipped to his house, and it would be one of my Christmas presents. :) So I did! Hah.&lt;br /&gt;I'm super excited to get it, EXCEPT, he said I have to wait until Christmas which is super unfair because I gave him one of his presents awhile ago. I'm going to try and convince him to give it to me earlier. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-9050897422306372960?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/9050897422306372960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=9050897422306372960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/9050897422306372960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/9050897422306372960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/super-excited.html' title='Super excited!'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5995957222189695230</id><published>2008-11-16T20:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T21:04:45.666-06:00</updated><title type='text'>But now you've got to humor all these fools.</title><content type='html'>I'm back to one of Blogger's plain old templates because I was tired of that layout and I can't find any that I like.&lt;br /&gt;I need to just cave and make one, but I just DO NOT want to code it. I hate coding. :( Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still really freaking excited to order my Coastal Scents palette, which I will probably be doing on Tuesday. I need to cash my check on Tuesday as well.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of money, I really need to find a new job! I like mine, but it doesn't pay well and I only work about 6 hours a week... that's just not cutting it! I'd love to work somewhere that I could have outrageous hair colors, because I'm getting quite bored of my hair, but I still want to grow it out. There's always the option of dying it, but I've had a lot of colors. I'm tempted to go blonde, I mean, I really sort of want to, I'm just afraid of messing it up or just looking terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last winter I really wanted to learn to snowboard, but I never did. I still really want to and I think I'm going to try and make it happen this time! I saw these BEAUTIFUL snowboarding boots in cosmogirl! and well, I'm fersure putting them on my Christmas list. Speaking of that, my mom keeps telling me to make one, but every time I put stuff on there, people hardly get me anything off of it? :( Hah, oh well. I don't have many wants, just a lot of money for things like clothes and of course, makeup.&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, check out the boots that I can not live without:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.backcountry.com/images/items/medium/VAN/VAN0248/ORPKGN.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate the way I've been writing my blogs lately, it's very... sloppy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5995957222189695230?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5995957222189695230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5995957222189695230' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5995957222189695230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5995957222189695230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/but-now-youve-got-to-humor-all-these.html' title='But now you&apos;ve got to humor all these fools.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1972188362048414172</id><published>2008-11-15T23:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T23:07:15.054-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I want you so much!</title><content type='html'>I keep going to Audrey's blog and being sad that she doesn't update every freaking day so that I have something to read, haha. Then it makes me feel like I shouldn't because I never blog anymore. :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I can't wait until Tuesday because that is when cute boyfriend will let me use his credit card to order makeup!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.coastalscents.com/cfwebstore/images/products/OtherMakeup/Tablet2_300.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's only $21.95 for 88 different colors, practically every color you'll ever need! I've heard that the colors are very pigmented (except maybe a few?) and that the quality is very good especially for the price. The only "bad" thing I've heard is that the shadows are only about the size of a dime, but since they color payoff is good, you don't have to use much, so you'll obviously get multiple uses out of it.&lt;br /&gt;While I wish there was more product, I'm still pretty excited! I think it will definitely be worth the money. I've read tons of reviews and it sounds amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part will be waiting. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1972188362048414172?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1972188362048414172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1972188362048414172' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1972188362048414172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1972188362048414172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-want-you-so-much.html' title='I want you so much!'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-2211363262095174385</id><published>2008-11-12T18:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T19:00:16.596-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The world has it's shine.</title><content type='html'>Stephen came over yesterday and talked to me, we're back together and just taking it slow, hoping we can work past our differences. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I weighed myself yesterday, and I weigh 147 - with my clothes on! Haha, so maybe even a little less than that? I'm excited because that means I've lost 10 1/2 lbs since the end of May. Sure, it's not a lot for the time span, but I was only working out over the summer. I really do need to start again. I feel like I've got my eating under control now. Ever since Thursday I've been pretty disgusted by fast food and and most junk food. I think that's part of it, but I'm not complaining, I've been dying for this kind of self control! Haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-2211363262095174385?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/2211363262095174385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=2211363262095174385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2211363262095174385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2211363262095174385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/world-has-its-shine.html' title='The world has it&apos;s shine.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-4757681720470851122</id><published>2008-11-07T10:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T10:28:42.673-06:00</updated><title type='text'>With you gone...</title><content type='html'>I'm just sitting here upset hoping that today he will call me.&lt;br /&gt;I want to call him but I can't do that.&lt;br /&gt;I just want him to call me and tell me that he loves me, and that he knows we can fix this.&lt;br /&gt;I know we said we were trying, but I could've tried so much harder, and I WANT TO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks, sitting here wondering what he's doing, wondering if he's as upset as I am or if he misses me, I just want him to call and make this all disappear. I'm just setting myself because if he doesn't it's just gonna hurt more.&lt;br /&gt;It already hurts enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This isn't right, I know this isn't right.&lt;br /&gt;We were meant to be together damnit. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-4757681720470851122?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/4757681720470851122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=4757681720470851122' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4757681720470851122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/4757681720470851122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/with-you-gone.html' title='With you gone...'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6899730658317055177</id><published>2008-11-06T12:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T12:42:11.210-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What the fuck? Is this even real?</title><content type='html'>This doesn't feel real.&lt;br /&gt;What am I going to do?&lt;br /&gt;He was my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to Bekka's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6899730658317055177?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6899730658317055177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6899730658317055177' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6899730658317055177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6899730658317055177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-fuck-is-this-even-real.html' title='What the fuck? Is this even real?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7731304146090500682</id><published>2008-11-04T13:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T14:30:30.950-06:00</updated><title type='text'>But no one would listen, 'cause no one else cared.</title><content type='html'>High school is ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;Losing someone you thought was a good friend is ridiculous, especially when you don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;I can honestly say that from the shit-hole that many called North High School, I have met one person that I would hate to live without. Most others will gladly be kicked to the curb on May 16th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;192 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Who cares about the election, the Twilight soundtrack is released today! Hahah. Too bad I've got no money. Wait... I've got $12, so I think I can get it! :D I wonder if Target would have it... I'm about to go see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PPS: Target didn't have it even though it was on their website. :( I guess I'll just wait until I get paid to hit up Hot Topic for the cd and lots of shirts/hoodies, haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7731304146090500682?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7731304146090500682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7731304146090500682' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7731304146090500682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7731304146090500682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/but-no-one-would-listen-cause-no-one.html' title='But no one would listen, &apos;cause no one else cared.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1577050798522504442</id><published>2008-11-02T20:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T21:04:16.354-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I AM OBSESSED.</title><content type='html'>So... I finally finished Breaking Dawn, the final book in the Twilight series, maybe about an hour and a half ago. It was so wonderful! Although it has only put my Twilight obsession to a level it hasn't been before! I have been looking at Twilight stuff online for probably 40 minutes now, and it's only making me more and more anxious to see the movie.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go get the soundtrack on Tuesday when it comes out, but I don't believe I have enough money, so will have to wait until I get my paycheck this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Another good thing coming from this mad obsession, is that finishing Breaking Dawn has made me want to write so much more! I think reading about Stephenie Meyer's inspiration for the books has also contributed. I really want to write, but I haven't a clue as to what to write about. She said that the story came to her in a dream, so I hope that I have some amazingly inspiring dreams tonight. ;)&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough, I wouldn't mind dreaming about Twilight tonight, haha. Even after reading the first three books, I could not understand everyone's obsession with wanting to be a vampire. But alas, after finishing BD, I think it would be pretty interesting. Haha, I feel like such a creep now! I think it has to do with my desire to have something as beautiful as Bella and Edward do. I hope one day Stephen and I's relationship can develop into something so timeless and beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1577050798522504442?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1577050798522504442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1577050798522504442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1577050798522504442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1577050798522504442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-obsessed.html' title='I AM OBSESSED.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-591497763122382448</id><published>2008-10-27T17:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T17:48:39.085-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't criticize me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a hard time admitting this. But I'm going to - right here, right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this serious desire to become a model.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to lose weight so I can do this.&lt;br /&gt;I honestly want to go somewhere... I don't even know where, and get some feedback, but I'm so afraid of rejection.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so terrified that they'll laugh at me for honestly thinking I was pretty enough.&lt;br /&gt;And right now, I know my body's not in it's best condition. I really need to get on track with my diet/exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, yesterday was Spooktacular, our Halloween event at my work, so instead of wearing my yucky uniform, I dressed up as a zebra. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/?action=view&amp;amp;current=IMG_1760copy.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_1760copy.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/?action=view&amp;amp;current=IMG_1767copy.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/IMG_1767copy.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-591497763122382448?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/591497763122382448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=591497763122382448' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/591497763122382448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/591497763122382448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/dont-criticize-me.html' title='Don&apos;t criticize me...'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1425592325921038863</id><published>2008-10-22T21:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T21:05:30.328-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a really amazing talk with Aerts today, and I might major in journalism at UNO.&lt;br /&gt;But, if I do become a journalist, I'd like to write for a magazine and not a newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, I've just been thinking about how all of these people that I used to be pretty good friends with earlier in high school, don't even talk to me anymore. It's kindof lame. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: This week Satin Taupe and Star Violet have become my favorite eyeshadow combination. (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1425592325921038863?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1425592325921038863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1425592325921038863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1425592325921038863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1425592325921038863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-had-really-amazing-talk-with-aerts.html' title=''/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5429101168700893572</id><published>2008-10-21T22:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T22:29:16.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The future is scary.</title><content type='html'>I hate school and I hate homework! It doesn't help that I'm such a procrastinator. Ah well, only... about 6 months... :| I simply cannot wait to graduate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to suck at college.&lt;br /&gt;But whatever, I'm officially going to do what &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; want with my future.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to attend Xenon for makeup and possibly hair, and I'll attend UNO part time alongside of that (for who knows what yet!)&lt;br /&gt;I really want to be an author. But I have no inspiration lately. :(&lt;br /&gt;Luckily though, I've got plenty of makeup inspiration and can't wait for tomorrow (minus school!) so I can come home and play with some makeup looks I want to try. :D Hooray!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5429101168700893572?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5429101168700893572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5429101168700893572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5429101168700893572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5429101168700893572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/future-is-scary.html' title='The future is scary.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5938569475086747526</id><published>2008-10-17T22:33:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T10:06:55.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"This is not a cry for help, this is goodbye, I wish you well"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is probably going to be an enormous post that won't capture how truly meaningful last night was, just so you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too lazy/out of the mood to type out everything I felt before, when I first found out about Scott leaving this earth. So here it is, copied/pasted from myspace:&lt;br /&gt;"I can't even believe this. Any of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that you're gone. You were always so happy, it's just something that none of us expected. Every time I saw you, you were always smiling. It reminds me of that Blaine Larson song, "How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad, to make you make the call, that having no life at all, is better than the life that you had. How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How do you get that lonely and nobody knows?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;I remember physics last year, every day you came into class smiling and you would come and say hi to me. If I looked upset, you'd want to know what was wrong and you would try to make sure I was okay. You were always making us laugh, saying sweet and silly things, and you were always rappin like Lil Wayne. :)&lt;br /&gt;And how you were taking all those silly pictures of yourself on my camera, and then you took two of me &amp;amp; you, and I looked absolutely terrible. So you said I could delete them if I wanted, and I did, only now I wish I hadn't.&lt;br /&gt;And I can't believe how this affected me. We weren't that close, but it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hurts&lt;/span&gt;. I think it's just that fact that even though I hadn't seen you much this year, even though I was okay without talking to you all the time, it's like now I know that I'll never see you again, now I'll never get to talk to you again. I just wish I could have been there for you with whatever you were going through. It's so weird just seeing that no one expected it, that no one knew what was going on. Maybe if you would have had someone there for you, this wouldn't have happened?&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to believe that this is true. I just want to walk into school tomorrow and see you in the hallway.&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand why you did this, but you're in a better place now and I hope they're treating you good up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i35.tinypic.com/2cqy25w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R.I.P. Scott A. Tunstall Jr.&lt;br /&gt;[11.24.90 - 10.11.08]&lt;br /&gt;We miss &amp;amp; love you.&lt;3"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish this had never happened, but it did and I'm okay with that.&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the viewing, it was rough but I really do feel like it was something I needed to attend, and I think it really did help me to come to terms with what happened.&lt;br /&gt;Audrey and I were supposed to hang out with Stephen but he was really tired, and had to work tonight, so he went to sleep instead. We really had nothing to do, so she asked if I wanted to go to this guy's shop. This amazing man is a barber, a minister, and a Christian rapper. And he's only 25! He wanted Audrey to design myspace layouts for his music and business pages, and since I love that stuff and wish I was better at it, I figured it would be fun.&lt;br /&gt;He knew where we had come from, and in between talking about graphics and codes, we talked about life lessons and God and His plan for you. I felt like we were meant to go there last night and talk to him because I think it really helped us to get that final sense of closure. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, I'm sorry that this blog sucked. Blogger deleted like half of my post even though I saved it as a draft last night, all of it must not have saved. I'm trying to get my writing talent back, but it's not working so well at the moment. :\&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5938569475086747526?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5938569475086747526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5938569475086747526' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5938569475086747526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5938569475086747526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/this-is-probably-going-to-be-enormous.html' title='&quot;This is not a cry for help, this is goodbye, I wish you well&quot;'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i35.tinypic.com/2cqy25w_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-3813069191702138083</id><published>2008-10-15T21:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T21:44:00.334-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spiral curling iron love.</title><content type='html'>Well, I didn't make all my goals because I'm quite lazy and unmotivated, but better luck tomorrow, eh?&lt;br /&gt;I did finish my newspaper article, work out for 20 minutes, and make&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; more&lt;/span&gt; than one person smile. ;) Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got this new spiral curling iron from Sally today. I went in like really close to when they were closing and I hope it didn't annoy them because I didn't take long finding what I wanted and getting it. I also signed up for a Sally card, so hopefully they weren't annoyed by that either as I managed to make it out the door at 9 which is when they close. :| Anyway, I can't wait until tomorrow morning because I'm really excited about trying it out! I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I did not cry today. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-3813069191702138083?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/3813069191702138083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=3813069191702138083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3813069191702138083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3813069191702138083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/spiral-curling-iron-love.html' title='Spiral curling iron love.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-10782365392640732</id><published>2008-10-14T21:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T21:43:29.365-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goals for tomorrow...</title><content type='html'>I mean to type a blog about Scott, but not tonight, I need to think it all out first. I have cried every day since, for various reasons, and no reason at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I have a lot of goals for tomorrow, mostly health-related:&lt;br /&gt;- Drink all 8 cups of water.&lt;br /&gt;- Eat healthy all day.&lt;br /&gt;- Do one hour of cardio after school (and reward myself with a delicious piece of cheesecake, courtesy of Stephen!)&lt;br /&gt;- Finish my depression article for newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;- Make someone smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all for now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-10782365392640732?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/10782365392640732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=10782365392640732' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/10782365392640732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/10782365392640732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/goals-for-tomorrow.html' title='Goals for tomorrow...'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8016234998542868068</id><published>2008-10-13T16:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T16:41:54.777-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Suicide is the 3rd leading cause of death amoung teenagers.</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine committed suicide on Saturday. We weren't very close, but obviously, I'm upset. It was something I would have never expected, especially from him.&lt;br /&gt;Here are some interesting suicide and depression facts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- 121 million people worldwide suffer from depression. (The World Health Organization)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; -18 million of these cases are happening in the United States. (The National Institute of Mental Health)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; -Between 20% and 50% of children and teens struggling with depression have a family history of this struggle and the offspring of depressed parents are more than three times as likely to suffer from depression. (U.S. Surgeon General's Survey, 1999)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; -Depression often co-occurs with anxiety disorders and substance abuse, with 30 percent of teens with depression also developing a substance abuse problem.   (NIMH)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; -2/3 of those suffering from depression never seek treatment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Untreated depression is the number one cause of suicide, and suicide is the third leading cause of death among teenagers. (NIMH)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Depression does not discriminate across age, race, gender, or class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- There are also as many as 8.3 percent of teens suffering from depression for at least a year at a time, compared to 5.3 percent of the general population.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Suicide rates within migrant communities such as African and East Asian Americans or the Black British community are, also of growing concern. Statistics show a rise but in some countries it can be difficult to calculate. For example, in the UK the place of birth is recorded on the death certificate, not ethnicity, therefore reducing data on suicides amongst minority groups.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8016234998542868068?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8016234998542868068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8016234998542868068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8016234998542868068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8016234998542868068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/suicide-is-3rd-leading-cause-of-death.html' title='Suicide is the 3rd leading cause of death amoung teenagers.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-736184879556715603</id><published>2008-10-07T22:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T22:23:34.211-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I'm paranoid.</title><content type='html'>You know those girls who takes tons of pictures of themselves, and think they're super cute even though they're really not? Well, what if I'm one of those girls and I just don't know it?!&lt;br /&gt;:O&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-736184879556715603?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/736184879556715603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=736184879556715603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/736184879556715603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/736184879556715603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-think-im-paranoid.html' title='I think I&apos;m paranoid.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-3972141977655829276</id><published>2008-10-04T21:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T21:22:53.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>They all want me, they all want me dead.</title><content type='html'>I got some new makeup remover tonight. I used to use the makeup remover pads from Almay, the purple ones, but found that I had trouble getting rid of a lot of the mascara and some of the eyeliner I wore. I now have the purple makeup remover from Almay, but in the bottle. I'm hoping this will be better? I've read some good things about it on &lt;a href="http://specktra.net"&gt;specktra&lt;/a&gt; so I suppose I'll find out tonight.&lt;br /&gt;I really want to see Nick &amp;amp; Nora's Infitnite Playlist. Stephen does too, so I'm going to ask if maybe he wants to go on Tuesday night. I just hope it's not as lame/disappointing as Juno was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I plan to write some stuff about him and our relationship, but not in this post. Maybe tonight or tomorrow... who knows.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-3972141977655829276?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/3972141977655829276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=3972141977655829276' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3972141977655829276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/3972141977655829276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/they-all-want-me-they-all-want-me-dead.html' title='They all want me, they all want me dead.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-2778608251603848546</id><published>2008-10-03T23:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T23:30:25.447-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm really tired, and annoyed with just about everyone. I think it's time for bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But before that, I must mention one thing. I tried fake eyelashes for the second time today (while trying to come up with my Corpse Bride makeup for Halloween) and they turned out quite well! I didn't have much trouble getting them on, and none getting them off. (:&lt;br /&gt;Check them out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SObwaJ3oLVI/AAAAAAAAACg/vNPduH0K3x8/s1600-h/fakelash2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SObwaJ3oLVI/AAAAAAAAACg/vNPduH0K3x8/s320/fakelash2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253150347490766162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SObwp5se99I/AAAAAAAAACo/l1y-Ia0HKlo/s1600-h/IMG_0986.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SObwp5se99I/AAAAAAAAACo/l1y-Ia0HKlo/s320/IMG_0986.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253150618026964946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I used: (all MAC unless otherwise stated)&lt;br /&gt;Blackground paint pot, Plumage e/s, Angel l/s, some neutral-ish lip liner from Avon, Studio Fix powder + foundation, Silver Dusk powder, Avon U2 black e/l, Covergirl lashblast mascara, and some false lashes that I got at Walgreens... I don't remember the brand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(:&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-2778608251603848546?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/2778608251603848546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=2778608251603848546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2778608251603848546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/2778608251603848546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/whatever-tomorrow-brings-ill-be-there.html' title='Whatever tomorrow brings, I&apos;ll be there.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SObwaJ3oLVI/AAAAAAAAACg/vNPduH0K3x8/s72-c/fakelash2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5272175888538296617</id><published>2008-10-01T22:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T22:29:51.618-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What did you expect from me?</title><content type='html'>So I actually worked out tonight. (: I walked 10 minutes, ran 5, and did some different things to strengthen my arm muscles. So I didn't do all that much, but it's the first time I've worked out in probably two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;I've just lost my drive. This always happens. I thought it wouldn't this time because that was the longest time I'd gone, just kept going and going, but of course, I stopped. And lately, I just feel like I've been getting fatter and fatter, especially my face and stomach, ugh.&lt;br /&gt;So here's to starting over, and hoping things go well.&lt;br /&gt;This is just the beginning, I'm sure I'll have to keep forcing myself because I just don't want to. Ugh, I can't explain it and it's really pissing me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just so angry and stressed at this exact moment and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;AJKGJKLGDLFHHDLHFGHKJAGDJFADLHVFLFJKF!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear God, I'm lost. I need you.&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5272175888538296617?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5272175888538296617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5272175888538296617' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5272175888538296617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5272175888538296617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-did-you-expect-from-me.html' title='What did you expect from me?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-1226737817219978660</id><published>2008-09-30T16:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T16:50:51.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You said that you would die for me</title><content type='html'>Ever since the funeral, I've felt sort of odd. I feel like maybe I'm not really scared to die anymore. It just really reassured me that there was a heaven and that it'd be okay to die because there are some people I've been missing for far too long, and it would be really nice to see them again. And well, it made me want to start going to church again. I don't know, I mean, I just want to learn more about God and stuff, I know a lot of Bible stories and stuff because I went to church and sunday school all the time when I was younger, but now I never do... except on Easter and Christmas Eve. I just want to find a church with interesting sermons though, because I've been to lots of boring ones. Plus, I'm not a huuge fan of organized religion, I mean, I guess it has it's pros and cons.&lt;br /&gt;People have really been bothering me lately. I hate when people act all weird about religion just because it's not something they have in their life. They make it sound so weird and are just all "Omg I'm not going to church, hell no!" Like, I don't understand why they act this way about it. This sounds so stupid but I can't explain it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up my order status for my makeup from MAC and it's been shipped. I checked out the tracking stuff and it's being shipped my UPS, everything is on schedule and it's supposed to arrive on Friday. Yay! :D I wish it were sooner though. I can't wait, asjghdasjkldgas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to hang out with Stephen tonight. I wonder what we're going to do...&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and on Sunday I tried fake eyelashes for the first time! It wasn't really too hard and they didn't get too messed up. I kept messing with one though so it started coming off so I just took both of them off. And then the second one I accidentally got a little glue on one of my real lashes and was so afraid that it was going to rip my real eyelashes out! Thankfully, Stephen helped me and it didn't. I just need to practice on getting it closer to my lashes, but not too close! I want to go get more. (: Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, y'know what else I think is funny? I love how when I talk about makeup people act all weird about it like "Oh hell no, that's too much to spend on makeup!" but then they're always asking if they can borrow/use it. Ironic, right? Not to mention, I don't spend all my money on makeup so someone else can use it. You say it's too much to spend but you obviously recognize that it's a good product, haah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-1226737817219978660?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/1226737817219978660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=1226737817219978660' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1226737817219978660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/1226737817219978660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-said-that-you-would-die-for-me.html' title='You said that you would die for me'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5548684857192667206</id><published>2008-09-29T22:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T22:29:35.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Asdfdfh;jklsdghj;sdfgh</title><content type='html'>I JUST WANT TO LIVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of school, I'm tired of everything. I feel like doing homework, sitting in class for countless hours, selling people stuffed animals, cleaning the house... it's all just such a waste of time! You don't have that long to live as it is, and what's worse is that you don't know how long you're going to have at all. I can honestly say that if I died tomorrow I would regret not doing more with my life. I would regret not putting myself out there more, I would regret not doing things for me... I think that's what this is all about.&lt;br /&gt;All my life I've been living my life for other people because I was scared about what they would think, or because I didn't want to get in trouble. But as of 10:13pm on Monday September 29th I am no longer going to do that. No one is going to tell me what to do or force me to do something I don't want to. I am going to do what I need to, what I want to, to make myself happy, to make my life worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;And shit, this is going to be so hard! I'm honestly scared, but I want to try.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that life is all about love, so as of tonight, I'm going to love unconditionally and without fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the left side of my mouth hurts really bad. :| I don't know why, sjdglsjagd.&lt;br /&gt;I got some really cute earrings today from Claires, and fixed my turtle's tank, so now it will be easier to clean. Goodnight...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5548684857192667206?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5548684857192667206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5548684857192667206' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5548684857192667206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5548684857192667206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/asdfdfhjklsdghjsdfgh.html' title='Asdfdfh;jklsdghj;sdfgh'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6226598106186215440</id><published>2008-09-27T22:06:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T22:18:36.329-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't think that I have the strength to let you go.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a lot to say, but I don't feel like typing it all out. We'll see how it goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's start with yesterday. (: My dad must've felt bad that we have to get rid of Brutus, and so he bought a purebred black lab from one of his friends on Thursday night. He called my mom and told her about it on Friday and brought it to us as a surprise on Friday night when we were going to dinner.&lt;br /&gt;It's so adorable! It's only 10 weeks old, so about 2 and a half months, and he's just so ajagdjlaskgd cutie! He already weighs 21 lbs, geez! Ryan and I slept downstairs with him last night and we bought him two cute toys and a halloween collar (which might be messed up and need to be returned) about an hour ago. I miss Brutus but this new guy is so adorable, and hopefully things will go better with him.&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SN71xX94GKI/AAAAAAAAACQ/FbNZ3LF65Dc/s1600-h/IMG_0639.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SN71xX94GKI/AAAAAAAAACQ/FbNZ3LF65Dc/s320/IMG_0639.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250904444156516514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And about today... wow. I went to the funeral honestly believing that I would not cry. I was sad about his death but I hadn't cried and I didn't feel I was going to. I successfully tried not to cry until Michael started talking about his dad. Talking about all the things he had taught him, the things they had done, and how much he was going to and already did miss him. Needless to say, I started bawling.&lt;br /&gt;After that, I was okay... until the end when we had to leave. I was waiting to see everyone, tell them how sorry I was, and I just started bawling again. I saw him lying there in the casket and I remembered all those little moments with him, how he'd always been so nice to me, and how it was never going to happen again. Then I looked at my friends, the people I'd known for so long, and saw how absolutely hurt they were, and that made it worse. I hugged Michael and Kyle while sobbing, and felt bad for not hugging Jackson, but I wasn't sure if he remembered me.&lt;br /&gt;Then I had to come home and go to work. :|&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts and prayers go out to this family.&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This sucked, I wanted to say more, but oh well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6226598106186215440?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6226598106186215440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6226598106186215440' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6226598106186215440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6226598106186215440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-dont-think-that-i-have-strength-to.html' title='I don&apos;t think that I have the strength to let you go.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SN71xX94GKI/AAAAAAAAACQ/FbNZ3LF65Dc/s72-c/IMG_0639.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8141537537599880969</id><published>2008-09-25T15:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T16:04:55.017-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's so easy, a caveman could do it!</title><content type='html'>Remember that rant about people's misconceptions on serious relationships that I promised? Here goes. It won't be too long, I promise.&lt;br /&gt;One thing that really bothers me about people's ideas about love and serious relationships is that they assume that it is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;easy&lt;/span&gt;. People are constantly telling me how lucky I am, and complaining that they can't be as lucky as me. I'm not going to say that I'm not lucky, because I must have some sort of luck to have found someone that I care about more than anything, who also feels the same towards me. It's beautiful. But, everyone is just assuming that "oh, I can't be as lucky as you, poor me" when I believe that most people in high school aren't ready for this kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;While these people are sitting around complaining about how they will never find true love, and pointing out how easily and quickly I found someone, they don't realize how much effort the both of us have put into this relationship. We have both been crazy, jealous, ridiculous while we have both done things that have rightfully made the other person this way. We hurt each other and we make sacrifices, come to something we can both agree on, so that we will never have to see the other hurt like that again. We put our relationship before everything else, and this is why we are still together, this is why we're still making it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, maybe I'm completely wrong, but I feel that most teenage girls complaining about this would never make that kind of commitment and sacrifice (not that it's a bad thing, you're still young!) and that is why they don't have a more serious relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I paid for my parking permit today, and I went to get it, but I need license/registration/proof of insurance. Go figure. The sucky part is that I'm only on my mom's insurance and the car I'm driving is my dad's. Since I'm not on that car's insurance I'm guessing that they aren't going to let me drive to school. It sucks. :| I'm going to try anyway tomorrow, but I'm not feeling too optimistic about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get to see my babycakes tonight. :D I'm trying not to give up on school, sjkdghsjagdsjkdghlasj.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8141537537599880969?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8141537537599880969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8141537537599880969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8141537537599880969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8141537537599880969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-so-easy-caveman-could-do-it.html' title='It&apos;s so easy, a caveman could do it!'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-6476929690056313459</id><published>2008-09-24T22:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T22:47:35.610-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I lost in your eyes?</title><content type='html'>I honestly hate school. Graduation can't come soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand why an hour and a half in a class isn't enough, why is it that we must have tons of homework piled on top of that? It's ridiculous! Apparently, school is supposed to consume your entire life, right? Ugh!&lt;br /&gt;Except I'm nervous about graduating too. All I know is that I want to move in with Stephen. He makes me happy and I feel that if I'm living with him, I'll be much happier and less stressed all the time. But, it's just going to a be a big argument that I don't want to have when I tell my mom that I want to move in with him. Why must everything be so difficult?&lt;br /&gt;Also, I feel like everyone's going to deem me as a failure if I don't go to a 4 year college because I'm "smart." Honestly, I hate school and studying, and I'm not good at studying. Great, I can get A's and B's in high school, but these AP classes are almost kicking my butt! I don't even want to know what college is like.&lt;br /&gt;When the counselor's came to our english classes to talk about college, he's like "oh well you'll all pick 4 year college because that where you're all going." Yes, I'm taking classes for college credit and one day I'd like to go there, but I honestly want to go to Xenon for makeup (and maybe hair?) before all of that. I feel like everyone is going to think less of me for it, or think I'm just wimping out. I don't know what I want to study in college and I don't want to spend all my money there before I figure it out. Plus, I LOVE makeup. It's something I want to do, no, maybe not forever, but for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I'm done trying to please everyone, I'm doing things for me now.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'll rant on people's misconceptions of serious relationships and love. Hooray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-6476929690056313459?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/6476929690056313459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=6476929690056313459' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6476929690056313459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/6476929690056313459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/am-i-lost-in-your-eyes.html' title='Am I lost in your eyes?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8309559910520322819</id><published>2008-09-23T22:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T22:43:38.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry, oh, sorry.</title><content type='html'>This past week and a half has been so terrible. I was pretty sick all of last week. Then we had to get rid of Brutus. I miss him so much, I keep doing stuff, thinking that we still have him, and it sucks. Last night was the first night I did not cry when I got into bed and today I haven't cried at all. It's getting better, even though I still miss him.&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Then, on Saturday, a friend's dad died. It makes me so sad because I've known the whole family since I was very young, and although I hadn't seen him for a long time, it's too bad that such a great person who was always making me smile and laugh will no longer be around. Also, this friend and I used to be super close, definitely one of my best friends for a long time, and while we hadn't talked much in the past months, I just want to be there for him.&lt;br /&gt;I'm planning on going to the funeral on Saturday because luckily it's before I have to work.&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention, another friend I've had since middle school lost her dad about a week ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything's so sad lately. :(&lt;br /&gt;and stressful. Ugh, I cannot wait to graduate.&lt;br /&gt;This blog is so terribly worded and put-together. Goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps; I left my purse at school. Luckily, it was in the best class, and the teacher found it and so I'm going to get it tomorrow morning. Thank goodness! It had my whole life in there, except my cell phone luckily. Camera, cash, ipod, drivers license, debit card, reading glasses. I'd be so upset without it, it's been hard for just one night without my ipod especially.&lt;br /&gt;Pps; Tomorrow I must start working out again. This whole bad week and a half have included zero minutes of working out, not good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8309559910520322819?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8309559910520322819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8309559910520322819' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8309559910520322819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8309559910520322819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/sorry-oh-sorry.html' title='Sorry, oh, sorry.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7069820280464020882</id><published>2008-09-20T22:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T22:39:28.991-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so sorry.</title><content type='html'>I'm so scared. I'm scared that he thinks that we left him, and mostly afraid that he thinks we don't love him anymore, that we don't want him anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm okay, the only thing that hurts is thinking about him. I wonder where he is right now, what he is doing, what he is thinking, and I'm just scared.&lt;br /&gt;Damn it. I love you, Brutus. I want you back. :(&lt;br /&gt;Please, please, please understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7069820280464020882?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7069820280464020882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7069820280464020882' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7069820280464020882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7069820280464020882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-so-sorry.html' title='I&apos;m so sorry.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-5115504475564356603</id><published>2008-09-20T09:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T09:45:37.228-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ugh, so basically, I was freaking out on Friday because my mom had said that we were probably going to have to get rid of Brutus. But I held onto that tiny hope that we might not, and so I was okay. He's always being bad and when he gets something he's not supposed to he gets really aggressive - growling, barking, and just recently starting to bite at people when they try to get it away from him. It has gotten worse over the past few days, and we talked to someone from the Humane Society about it on Wednesday or Thursday, and she told us some stuff, but he was still getting worse. An aggression specialist was supposed to call either Friday night or sometime this weekend and of course, hasn't called. Last night while I was at Bekka's, he got something and they tied his leash to the railing - that's what we do for his time outs - and then when they got it away from him, he still kept barking and starting biting in random directions so my mom couldn't even come back in the house (she was in the garage and the railing was right by the door) and Ryan couldn't come upstairs. I guess I don't understand as well because I didn't see it, but they're both better at letting go than I am, I suppose, so they knew that's what we had to do.&lt;br /&gt;So last night I slept downstairs with him, although he was still in the kennel, I was on the floor less than 10 feet away. And this morning I've just been crying a lot and petting him and giving him food he's not supposed to have and telling him I love him.&lt;br /&gt;They left maybe 15 minutes ago to take him, I didn't go because I doubt I'm strong enough to hold myself together at the Humane Society.&lt;br /&gt;I guess my mom's going to ask if they're going to euthanize him because really, unless someone who specializes in these sort of things really works with him, he's just going to keep doing it and getting worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's for the better, but I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I miss yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;u Bru&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;tus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SNUMYwSLQgI/AAAAAAAAACI/SN6h3-MqbnA/s1600-h/IMG_9206.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SNUMYwSLQgI/AAAAAAAAACI/SN6h3-MqbnA/s320/IMG_9206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248114560187712002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SNUMH_upYYI/AAAAAAAAACA/JH3ELAGfvwU/s1600-h/IMG_9206.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-5115504475564356603?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/5115504475564356603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=5115504475564356603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5115504475564356603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/5115504475564356603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-miss-you.html' title='I miss you.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SNUMYwSLQgI/AAAAAAAAACI/SN6h3-MqbnA/s72-c/IMG_9206.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8945452767777144259</id><published>2008-09-19T23:08:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T00:03:51.999-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That's what you get when you let your heart win.</title><content type='html'>I will be avoiding the house for who knows how long. I don't want to be here now, and last night I really didn't want to. It will just be so empty and remind me of him. Hell, he was annoying and bad quite often, but still, I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; love&lt;/span&gt; him.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even really want to write about this now. I'm not upset, I'm not crying and freaking out like last night, when I thought there might still be a possibility. I always do that! I always hold onto that one tiny strand of hope and it keeps me from being upset even though I know that it'll fall through, I can't bring myself to accept it. And then when I finally have to accept it, it just sucks!&lt;br /&gt;So right now, I'm not accepting it. Although all that hope has been shattered my body and mind have failed to accept it, pushing it out, making me feel very blank, numb, as if I have no feeling at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let everyone know what this is all about another day. But don't worry, I'll be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT// 12:02am: I really need to go to sleep, but I don't want to. Ryan and I are sleeping down here with Brutus, our last night with him. I started to cry a little, I'm sure it will only be worse tomorrow. I hope Ryan doesn't keep the tv on all night...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8945452767777144259?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8945452767777144259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8945452767777144259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8945452767777144259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8945452767777144259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/thats-what-you-get-when-you-let-your.html' title='That&apos;s what you get when you let your heart win.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-7400877696504790213</id><published>2008-09-15T21:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T22:12:28.878-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='layout'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tv'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'>This love is hard but it's real.</title><content type='html'>Oh, check out my layout! I'm in love with it. (: The blending of the image isn't the best, but give me a break, I haven't done this for years! I used stylesheet coding from a few people to help me along with the coding, but of course, I credited them. If they see this still have a problem with me using their codes then I'll take it down.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have felt pretty terrible all day today. I woke up with a huge headache and a slightly sore throat. The headache didn't cease all day and the sore throat continued to get worse. I'd very much like to bail on school tomorrow but I know I need to go, not to mention that if I don't my mom won't let me hang out with Stephen! :(&lt;br /&gt;I need to finish reading the government book as the test is tomorrow. Someone in another class said that they got a study day tomorrow, so I'm hoping we will get the same. I need to be more prepared, I have read a lot but I don't think that I comprehend and remember it as well as I need too. Honestly, the tests are so hard that I feel like I should just give up trying, but I really shouldn't do that.&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm really angry about my photography assignment! After 22 pictures the film would not advance so I figured that maybe there was a possibility that it would be done and tried to rewind it. It was really stubborn and making an odd noise so I stopped, and it let me take pictures again. This time though it didn't stop taking pictures, although I got up to 30 and it's only supposed to have 24. So again I tried to rewind the film and the same odd noise kept happening. I was really upset when I figured something was wrong because if we mess up an assignment we have to buy the film and re-do it. So I opened it up, which of course exposed my film, and saw that when I tried to rewind it that some part of the camera was ripping the little holes at the top of the film. I'm almost positive that I loaded the film right so I have no idea how this happened. I'm going to talk to my teacher about it and hopefully I won't have to buy the film because I honestly don't believe that it was my fault.&lt;br /&gt;I watched the new Gossip Girl episode tonight and I loved it, although I was a bit confused since I missed so many episodes. I started watching it when it first came on but kept forgetting and so I'm a bit lost. Then I went to Bekka's to watch the new One Tree Hill, as is our tradition. It was so sad! We are such dorks for being so into a tv show, but hey, it's good!&lt;br /&gt;Last night and today I have been obsessing over the Taylor Swift song Love Story. It's so adorable. (:&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell that I'm putting off my government studying? Oh dear, I really hope we have a study day tomorrow and put the test off until Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of government, I'm thinking about signing up for dual enrollment at UNO. It's offered for my AP (Advanced Placement) government and english lit classes. You get three credit hours for each semester for $225 a semester. For both semesters it would be $450, which seems like a lot, but compared to the price to take it in college, it isn't so bad. Thing is, I don't know about it. I want to attend a four year college but I want to attend cosmetology school first. I'm sure that my credits will still be valid but I'm just afraid that they'll get messed up or something. I really need to talk to my school counselor, eek.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-7400877696504790213?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/7400877696504790213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=7400877696504790213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7400877696504790213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/7400877696504790213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/this-love-is-hard-but-its-real.html' title='This love is hard but it&apos;s real.'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3345114193552828733.post-8615163498584837779</id><published>2008-09-13T22:49:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T10:23:05.989-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homecoming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='etod'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haul'/><title type='text'>Can you feel this?</title><content type='html'>I really should finish reading chapter 4 of my government book, it's just really boring. I did good and read most of it so far, and I've got to read two more chapters, so one a night, because we've got a test on Tuesday. I'm pretty nervous because I did failed the last one. :| I'm thinking about dropping it at semester if I continue like this. I know I could be trying harder though...&lt;br /&gt;Today work was... interesting. I worked from 12:30 to like 7:30. It got pretty busy in the afternoon and early evening was seriously busy, and then by closing time it had slowed down immensely. It was so weird because that's never happened before, at least when I was in main gift. Speaking of work, I used my new makeup - from a tiny haul at the MAC counter yesterday - to try a smokey eye sort of look. I don't know how it is for a smokey eye, but I was pretty happy with the way it turned out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/eotd091308.jpg" /&gt;   &lt;img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/1eotd091308.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Products: Wet n Wild SunKissed creme e/s, MAC Carbon e/s, MAC Satin Taupe e/s, MAC Nanogold e/s, Lashblast mascara, Avon U02 eyeliner very black, Studio Fix powder/foundation N4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 367px; height: 275px;" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/2eotd091308.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Speaking of yesterday! :D I went to dinner with Ryan, Dad, and Chris (my dad's girlfriend) and we got Godfather's, which is my favorite food in the world, so I was pretty excited. I wanted to go to Dillards to look at homecoming dresses - and conveniently enough, the MAC counter is located there - and so I asked Audrey if she wanted to go with me. I was kind of nervous because we hadn't hung out before but it was really fun. The lady at Dillards was really nice and picked out a lot of dresses for me. I was really scared at first because they were not looking cute on the hangers, not AT ALL. She said to just try them on and even if I didn't like them that then we could at least see what size I needed. As I was trying them on though, they didn't look so bad, I liked them! This pink, strapless one was pretty much &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the one&lt;/span&gt; and so I got it. Won&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/haul.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 163px;" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x240/p0rnstarrr/haul.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;derfully enough it was 70% off and ended up being only $86 plus tax. I'll post pictures of it later when I take some better ones.&lt;br /&gt;Then we stopped at the MAC counter and I promised myself I wouldn't spend too much. I only got 3 things - Carbon e/s, Satin Taupe e/s, and Naughty Nautical nail polish. It was in the CoC display and I'm not sure why? I thought that the CoC nail color was more purple, and this one is more blue, but I thought maybe I was mistak&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SMyTZ3eaFxI/AAAAAAAAAA0/MpDpIoFocOw/s1600-h/l_e634dd69fc35ee0173aa83076e5e1607.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SMyTZ3eaFxI/AAAAAAAAAA0/MpDpIoFocOw/s320/l_e634dd69fc35ee0173aa83076e5e1607.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245729738577286930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;en. How odd! :| Although I really like this color so it's no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;We took pictures in a photo booth because she had never done that before and then I helped her picked out cute stuff at Wet Seal. We stopped at Wendy's because she was hungry and I had a strawberry shake. I accidentally went the wrong way, heading back towards the mall, so we had to turn around.&lt;br /&gt;I was taking her home and we were going down 30th when I realized - Hey, my boyfriend's work is right there! So we snuck up on him. (: And his work friends were super lame about it. This girl thought I gave her a mean look, but really it was to the guy next to her. This guy thought my joking around with him was rude even though he was joking first? Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;So I finally took Audrey home and my mom complained about how it shouldn't have taken so long and she was soo tired and wanted to go to bed at 8, it was almost 11 when I got home. She was really rude on the phone, practically hung up on me after she said I might be grounded. But I'm not grounded and it was fun. So all is well and this was a major long blog!&lt;br /&gt;Here is Audrey and I's photo booth picture, goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3345114193552828733-8615163498584837779?l=secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/feeds/8615163498584837779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3345114193552828733&amp;postID=8615163498584837779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8615163498584837779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3345114193552828733/posts/default/8615163498584837779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secretlovesnotes.blogspot.com/2008/09/can-you-feel-this.html' title='Can you feel this?'/><author><name>secret love notes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11903991400001989126</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SU2TSKRotCI/AAAAAAAAACw/tc6l3vFbgZI/S220/rockstarav.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J12W13XbW-E/SMyTZ3eaFxI/AAAAAAAAAA0/MpDpIoFocOw/s72-c/l_e634dd69fc35ee0173aa83076e5e1607.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
