<?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-18385444</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:29:03.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"unspoken"</title><subtitle type='html'>the power of silent words..</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-5100440048168005903</id><published>2008-02-17T20:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T20:29:58.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Girl...</title><content type='html'>There's this girl that I met online. I haven't seen her face to face, I haven't even heard her voice yet, but she has influenced my life so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when I long to go back home (to the Philippines) just because her face crossed my mind. There are times when I write poetry, just because I think of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her name is etched in my heart now. A beautiful name, but it doesn't measure up to the beauty that is her personality. She has a lot to give. She dotes on her brother. She loves her parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is smart. She does her job well and she loves it. She has a creative mind. She speaks different languages. She is witty and funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was not successful in everything though, as she has also suffered some heartaches. She doesn't have many friends as she had to keep moving from one place to another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is kind of weird. She has a peculiar love for food. Some things she like, you'll find them strange, and you probably wouldn't imagine she was like that if you've just met her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is elegant. She knows her place and she knows how to act appropriately depending on the situation. She knows how to dress. Fashion is one thing that comes naturally to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I've spent quite a bit of time talking to her and getting to know her, there are so many things that I still don't know about her, and want to know about her. I just hope the next months, and years, maybe the rest of my life, I will be given the chance to keep her and get to know her fully. I am sure there will be a lot of surprises, and that just makes me even more eager to spend time with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I got scared that I won't be given that chance. I was taken over by the feeling of hopelessness. I tried to laugh it off, but it didn't really comfort me that much. I am not sure what I need right now, but a friend told me to write how I feel. I didn't want to at first because I knew that she would read it and I'm not sure if I want her to read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why this entry is going to this blog site, my secret hideaway, where only a few really close people know who I am. Please go ahead and tell me what you think if you are reading this by any chance. Should I post this entry on a place where I know she will read it or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*There might be more to come...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-5100440048168005903?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5100440048168005903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=5100440048168005903' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/5100440048168005903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/5100440048168005903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2008/02/this-girl.html' title='This Girl...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-8841758351418162686</id><published>2007-06-03T03:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T03:28:12.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Was It Love?</title><content type='html'>I am not sure. I felt attached to her for quite a while. I know I liked her a lot, but she had some qualities and circumstances I did not like. I knew it wasn't going to work out between us right from the start. But I persevered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I let my emotions guide me for a while. I let myself fall. Still it did not matter. The relationship was doomed right from the start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am moving on. I've been meeting several interesting women lately. With some of them I share a definite physical attraction to, and some are interesting in their own ways. I am ready to fall in love again. Hoping for the best to come soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-8841758351418162686?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/8841758351418162686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=8841758351418162686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/8841758351418162686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/8841758351418162686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2007/06/was-it-love.html' title='Was It Love?'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-628967213175853401</id><published>2007-03-09T22:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T00:12:23.958-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is This Love?</title><content type='html'>Ask me why I'm happy&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain&lt;br /&gt;Love is in my heart&lt;br /&gt;You're there to remain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what's happening with me now. Am I really falling in love with her? Everything points to the answer "Yes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you miss someone you haven't even met yet? This is the question that started it all. It started with a simple conference chat. We talked, just chit-chat. Two days later, I chatted her up. It was a great conversation. There wasn't much depth in the conversation but we had fun talking to each other. Or at least I did. I talked to her every night after that. Each time we talked, I learned more about her. And the more I learned, the more I felt closer to her. It surprised me that we had many things in common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her not to fall in love with me, and I in turn won't fall for her too. It's funny. We talked and teased each other. I felt good whenever I talked to her. I made her laugh, and her laugh made me happy. And then something happened.. something "magical" as we refer to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, she was quieter than usual. She had something in her mind, and she started to ask for my opinion about something. I don't want to go into any details, but I gave her a good answer. Plus, I gave her more. I felt that "the friend" was actually her. And before she even told me specifics about the problem, I filled it all in. It surprised me that I did that, and she was shocked. She never thought I would guess it. I didn't think I would either. I just went for what I felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We couldn't explain it. I asked her if her heart was beating fast, because mine was. She said yes. We tried to talk a bit about what happened, but everything was a blur. We couldn't put a finger on what just happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next days, we continued talking each night. We shared more and more with each other. Although a bg chunk of the conversations were small talk or just light topics, there are parts where we'd talk about serious stuff. I still surprise her when I read her mind. I can tell what she's thinking most of the time. She didn't have to say a word. I knew what she wanted to tell me. I understood her. Sincerely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that is rare. When two people understand each other like that, I believe there is something special going on between them. There is a special chemistry that is hard to find in people. It was obvious that we liked each other. We were both scared though. We were frightened about what we were feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we are still... Let's see where this goes....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-628967213175853401?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/628967213175853401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=628967213175853401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/628967213175853401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/628967213175853401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2007/03/is-this-love.html' title='Is This Love?'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-3823805632942071206</id><published>2007-03-03T03:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-03T03:23:57.002-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Month</title><content type='html'>February has always been magical to many people. At that time of the year, lovers show how much they love each other with all the affection they can muster. No holds barred. It's almost like there's a prize to be won for being the sweetest couple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's also the singles, who take the opportunity to get dates, as almost everyone wants to go out on a date with someone, for fear of being lonely and miserable on that one day in February.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though most of the celebrations are held mid-month, people find excuses to make the most out of the occasion, so we have post-valentine events until the end of the month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I really wanted to write about though, was how my February went. This is the month I started feeling really homesick that I cannot fight the urge to go home anymore. I missed my family and friends, and I missed having someone as well. Now that wasn't supposed to be such a big deal as in my 27 years in this world, I have only had one Valentine's day wherein I had someone who loved me back. And I couldn't hope that this most recent one would be in a relationship, but I did pray to meet "the one" for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True enough, I have had the chance to meet a lot of people in the course of that month. Many of the girls I talked to made me smile. All of them have become my friends. There is one girl though, who made my heart beat fast.. who put a lump on my throat.. who made me speechless.. who made me smile with just the mere thought of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote a letter once, to someone whom I haven't met yet, addressed to the one God has prepared for me. It seems like this letter was written for her. Can it be? There's only one way to find out, and that is to let destiny run its course and let it take me to wherever this path might lead. It's scary, but I will tread the steps to my destiny, hoping at the end of the road, my lady is waiting for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-3823805632942071206?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/3823805632942071206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=3823805632942071206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/3823805632942071206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/3823805632942071206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2007/03/love-month.html' title='Love Month'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-116926121348055864</id><published>2007-01-19T18:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T18:46:53.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Need Advice....</title><content type='html'>I talked to her last night. She told me she misses me. She told me she wants me to go back home soon. She told me she wants to get married. She told me she wants to have kids. She told me she wants them soon. Do you think she's trying to tell me something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her to nurture what she has now so she might get what she wants. She has a boyfriend now you know. I love her still though. Can you imagine how hard it was for me to stop myself from telling her that again? I've fallen for her over and over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things just start working out for me, allowing me to build up hope, that we can be together. Then she disappears. Or she becomes busy. Or she meets someone else. Do you think I should allow myself to fall for her once again? She simply says my name and I end up with my heart in my throat. My heart beats fast just hearing her voice. I know, I am in love. Still. But I shouldn't just keep waiting for her, should I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so good when giving advice to other people, but I can't give myself a single good one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-116926121348055864?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116926121348055864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=116926121348055864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116926121348055864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116926121348055864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/need-advice.html' title='Need Advice....'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-116781069987632012</id><published>2007-01-02T23:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T23:51:39.903-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hurt</title><content type='html'>A sense of paranoia. That's what I have everytime I fall for someone. After a few days or weeks from realizing that I'm in love, I await that moment when the Hurt comes in. I do not know if this is because I've been bad in a past life, or if I'm just insecure. I have conditioned my mind from years back that I will get my Karma sometime. I hurt some people, and I know I'm gonna be hurt too. I've been hurt a lot of times after that. I just don't know when the Hurt is going to end anymore. I'm at the brink of giving up now. I'm in pain. I've been hurt too many times and I don't know if I can take any more. I hope the next girl is going to be the One already. I don't like myself when I become so negative.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-116781069987632012?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116781069987632012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=116781069987632012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116781069987632012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116781069987632012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2007/01/hurt.html' title='The Hurt'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-116590512914802137</id><published>2006-12-11T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T22:32:09.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So Elusive....</title><content type='html'>Why is love so elusive? It seems like everybody is just waiting forever.. waiting for that perfect someone.. the one who was made for us. The heart can not be told who to love, they say. Love is a random feeling. When you fall, it just comes spontaneously. Just one blink, and the world suddenly becomes more colorful. You can definitely feel the difference. One minute you're depressed and the next you're exploding with joy. Today you feel lost and tomorrow you know exactly where you're going and what you're doing, like a man on a mission. We've all felt this way. We've all fallen in love. Why do I think love is elusive? Because when I say love, I mean reciprocated love. Many people have someone they love right now, but they are really not "in love".. because the feeling is not mutual. We suffer a lot of these relationships, thinking that we are just preparing for that "elusive love" to come knocking at our door. And we hope that this is true. I hope this is true....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-116590512914802137?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116590512914802137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=116590512914802137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116590512914802137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116590512914802137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/12/so-elusive.html' title='So Elusive....'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-116239288534192618</id><published>2006-11-01T06:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T06:54:45.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Man In Love</title><content type='html'>Lately, I've been thinking of Lea a lot. Is this love? Of course it is! I don't know if this will go somewhere but I'm hopeful it will. There isn't much that can happen right now as we are so far apart. She doesn't believe in long distance relationship. I have tried it before and I know there's just a slim chance that it might work. So that's a no-go. I keep hoping though. Someday, if we are for each other, we will meet again at the right time and the right circumstances.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-116239288534192618?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116239288534192618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=116239288534192618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116239288534192618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116239288534192618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/11/man-in-love.html' title='A Man In Love'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-116042088383252391</id><published>2006-10-09T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T06:55:48.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was talking to Lea last night. It has been a few days and she told me she was still stressed. I had to ask her why and I offered her my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The stress at work, I can still handle", she says, "but Max, I'm still hurting". She proceeded to tell me about the guy she likes a lot and how he left her hanging. She said she wanted to move on, but still can't, as she needed closure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have talked a lot about this guy before. She always talks about him. Imagine how I feel when she does that. She knows that I have feelings for her, but I told her it's okay to tell me as I was also her friend and confidant. Call me a martyr. I know I am when it comes to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked rhetorically at some point why she could not have just fallen for me instead of some other guy. That's because no one chooses who he or she will fall for. Love is very complicated but is also very simple. It is a happy feeling but it is also a source of so much sadness. Love is filled with many contradictions. But it's also just one concept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked me, "Do you love me?" and I said, "I do".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-116042088383252391?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/116042088383252391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=116042088383252391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116042088383252391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/116042088383252391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-was-talking-to-lea-last-night.html' title=''/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-115976452698411283</id><published>2006-10-01T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T21:48:47.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lea...</title><content type='html'>Do you know how much I want you? I'm sure you have an idea, but you're not even close. Two and a half years I've known you. When you were so close, I couldn't take action. I held your hand, I gave you hugs. We talked. Incessantly. You sang to me once.. I held your body close to me on the dance floor. You have been in my mind for a long time.  You've haunted me even when I was engaged. I thought I was over you, I guess I was wrong. I couldn't bring myself to ignoring you completely and just moving on with my life. There was silence between us for a long time. You only called me when you needed me. I only sought you when I needed you. Sometimes we did get together for lunch or dinner, or just a cup of coffee and chat. We've also had misunderstandings. We've argued, and we have forgiven each other. We're friends. And you've told me that's all you can give now. You've fallen for other guys, and I have had my share of relationships. But you're still here... in my heart. So tell me Lea....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lea (by Toto)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Heres to the few who fared - my love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Only for you - I cared - my love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ive given it hope, and I know its only you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Encased in silence&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Heres to the you - who saved - my love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Only to you - I gave - my love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ive given it thought, and its not all that appears&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lea, how long will you still want me to want you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In and around you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lea, my concertina&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Will you still want me to want you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Heres to the you - who dared - my love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Only with you - I shared - my love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ive given it thought, and its not all that appears&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lea, how long will you still want me to want you&lt;br /&gt;In and around you&lt;br /&gt;Lea, my concertina&lt;br /&gt;Will you still want me to want you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who cares - what the cynics say&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I care - if only youre on your way&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lea - dont let the same be true&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lea - do you still want me to want you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-115976452698411283?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115976452698411283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=115976452698411283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115976452698411283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115976452698411283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/10/lea.html' title='Lea...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-115883692426701921</id><published>2006-09-21T03:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T04:08:44.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's true what they say...</title><content type='html'>"You don't know how much you really love someone until you lose him/her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just woke up from a bad dream. You see, I have only one grandparent left and that's my Apong Piling. She's 87, but she can still move around and do some work. She does her chores a lot slower now but we don't really expect an 87 year old to even work right? Before I came to Vancouver I spent a few days at my folks' and had a little time to spend with her and the family. I said goodbye to her when I left. I told her it was going to be a real long time before I see her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I dreamt of her... not in the state where I left her. In my dream, she can't remember me anymore. She asked me questions, and she asked them in a mean way, like she didn't trust me. After answering all her questions about y identity, I saw some recognition in her eyes and I hugged her, overwhelmed with relief. Then she asked me something else, and I realized she mistook me for another person. Not good, I told her I was JR, her grandson. I immediately felt lost when I saw her cry, thinking how much it would hurt not to be remembered by a loved one. So much more for her, how much would it hurt not to remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am worried about her. I pray to God she's okay. I love her so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-115883692426701921?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115883692426701921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=115883692426701921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115883692426701921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115883692426701921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/its-true-what-they-say.html' title='It&apos;s true what they say...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-115848321814194416</id><published>2006-09-17T01:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T01:53:38.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No room for love...</title><content type='html'>My heart is empty. I haven't felt that fleeting feeling of being in love for quite some time now. I miss it. I miss the butterflies in the stomach. I miss the warmth of blood rushing to my face  when I blush. I miss the awkward silences. I miss times when I stutter or simply be at a  loss for words when I'm in front of the girl in my heart. These are the best moments of being in love. Not being in love with someone yet, but the time before that... when your special someone doesn't know how you feel for her yet. This is when men like us get to know what we're truly made of. I miss all of these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But right now, there's just no room for love... or is there?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-115848321814194416?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115848321814194416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=115848321814194416' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115848321814194416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115848321814194416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/no-room-for-love.html' title='No room for love...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-115839989984897416</id><published>2006-09-16T02:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T02:44:59.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ex</title><content type='html'>My ex-girlfriend replied to my message today. I felt excited and happy just knowing that I can talk to her again. Problem is, she was sooo cold. The chat wasn't as I expected. Maybe I was expecting to much. Maybe I still feel something special for her. Maybe I'm not totally over her yet. It was April when we broke up. I made it look like it was no big deal to me, but it was. We were such a perfect couple, until we finally had to face the "big problem" (aka religion). I miss her. What's ironic is that when she was telling me she misses me, I was the one who didn't show any emotion. I missed her too. And I told her that, minus the emotions. I thought I can keep her as a friend after we broke up. I guess I was wrong. But I really wish I was right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-115839989984897416?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115839989984897416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=115839989984897416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115839989984897416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115839989984897416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/ex.html' title='The Ex'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-115830822499474352</id><published>2006-09-15T00:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T01:17:05.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The rebirth...</title><content type='html'>I moved to Vancouver just this Monday and I am pretty sure I will have a lot of time to do this again. I haven't been in love with someone after Diana (we had to part in April due to religion). So I will take off from there...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love conquers all they say. The question is, "Is love enough to keep a relationship going, even when the biggest odds are against you?". The odds for us were friends and religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if your parents or your closest friends are against your relationship? I guess it will depend on your culture whether this will really affect your relationship or not. I was born in a culture where the padre de familia is the word. The parents always know better. And we value friendship like we value our family. If I was traditional, I would say this will really put you into a dilemma. But I'm not. I'm from the modern world. I am an adult and I will live my life the way I want it to. I accept any consequence of my decisions. Love can conquer this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about religion? I will say now it depends on your religion and your belief. Some religions allow inter-belief marriage, and some don't. Others would ask that both couples be in the same church/belief/religion so that the church and the families can allow marriage to take place. I am a Roman Catholic. I have attended fellowships, services, masses from other religions too and I believe in respecting one's faith. I believed that two people from two very different beliefs can get married and live together harmoniously and live a happy life. I gave this deeper thought after joining Diana's church's service. I asked myself how we will raise our kids in case we were allowed to marry even without joining the other's religion. It would be a disaster for the kids. Icould not get myself to force Diana to join my church, as I cannot allow her to do that to me too. I decided I could not trade what I have believed in all my life for a love so strong but so young. This is why we had to part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So can love conquer all? I say it would depend on the people involved. Each of us has his/her own priorities and love will have to take its own place there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-115830822499474352?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/115830822499474352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=115830822499474352' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115830822499474352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/115830822499474352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2006/09/rebirth.html' title='The rebirth...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113340803826112372</id><published>2005-12-01T11:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T19:35:10.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let me...</title><content type='html'>I sensed a change in you today. You were not like that in the past days.. weeks even. I do not know. Was it something I said? Was it something I did? I do not know. Let me read your mind. Let me into your thoughts. Let me see what you feel inside. Let me into your mind. Let me into you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113340803826112372?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113340803826112372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113340803826112372' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113340803826112372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113340803826112372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/12/let-me.html' title='Let me...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113304801518222376</id><published>2005-11-27T07:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-26T15:33:35.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Want.. Need..</title><content type='html'>I Want.. I Need.. Some Love.. Some Deed.. I Want.. Your Heart.. I Need.. No Hurt..&lt;br /&gt;I Want.. To Feel.. A Love.. So Real.. I Need.. To See.. Your Love.. For Me..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113304801518222376?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113304801518222376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113304801518222376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113304801518222376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113304801518222376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/11/want-need.html' title='Want.. Need..'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113265739151985877</id><published>2005-11-22T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T03:03:11.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bursting heart...</title><content type='html'>I have this feeling inside me that I cannot let loose&lt;br /&gt;For when I do, I know I cannot choose&lt;br /&gt;What to do, what to say, I want it to be spontaneous&lt;br /&gt;This feeling I keep inside me, it's dangerous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smile just once, after getting to know her&lt;br /&gt;But this smile hasn't ever left my face I gather&lt;br /&gt;I love to hear her voice, her joy, her laughter&lt;br /&gt;This love I have for her is like no other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When can I set this feeling free?&lt;br /&gt;If I don't, the only loser is me&lt;br /&gt;My heart is filled with joy and glee&lt;br /&gt;Because I know, I know, she's just like me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113265739151985877?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113265739151985877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113265739151985877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113265739151985877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113265739151985877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/11/bursting-heart.html' title='Bursting heart...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113265658989208255</id><published>2005-11-22T18:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T02:49:49.903-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I mention I was happy?</title><content type='html'>Yes I did! But let me repeat that.. I am happy!! :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113265658989208255?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113265658989208255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113265658989208255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113265658989208255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113265658989208255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/11/did-i-mention-i-was-happy.html' title='Did I mention I was happy?'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113187450336679205</id><published>2005-11-13T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T01:35:03.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>........</title><content type='html'>i'm happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113187450336679205?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113187450336679205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113187450336679205' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113187450336679205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113187450336679205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/11/blog-post.html' title='........'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113169523888603401</id><published>2005-11-11T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-11T00:15:16.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Longing for...</title><content type='html'>What's the difference between missing someone and longing for someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You miss a person when you have had time together and you have shared memories. You miss someone from kindergarten or elementary. You miss your cousin from another country. You miss a friend who has not written you a letter for quite some time now. You miss an ex-girlfriend with whom you shared intimate moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Longing for someone is more than just missing a person. When you long for someone, you cling to a hope that you will be together and spend time together again, no matter how little that hope is, and no matter how far-fetched the idea is. Longing means you care and hope that you two could be somthing more than what you two are now. You long for something that has not happened before, but hope will happen in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss someone. I long for her too...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113169523888603401?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113169523888603401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113169523888603401' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113169523888603401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113169523888603401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/11/longing-for.html' title='Longing for...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113149219944142074</id><published>2005-11-09T07:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T15:23:19.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Recurring Dream...</title><content type='html'>I see myself in a strange place. This is my second time in the same place, same spot, at the same time. I have visited this place once before... another night... in my dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time, I was alone. I was looking for a way out of that place, back to somewhere I am familiar with. But I am stuck. I have tried every direction but I always end up on the same place, same spot, same time. It frustrates me. And then everything fades and I wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never thought of that dream again until last week, when I dreamed the same dream. But this time, I was with someone. A girl. I did not see her face but I was holding her hand the whole time. I walked around trying to decide which direction to take this time, as I recognized the place. Then I saw someone familiar, an uncle. I approached him and he pointed me to the east. I know it's east because the sun has just risen from that direction. I asked him why he does not get out of the place and all he answered was, "I'm addicted to it". He looked happy. I started to freak out so I ran to the east with the girl in tow. I saw mummies on the side of the path and when I tried to walk through it, they started pushing me towards the ravine. So I turned back and faced the girl. I still did not see her face but facing her while holding her hand brought me a certain peace. I became calm. And smiled. Then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder. I think I know now what this means. But I also want to hear your interpretation. Tell me what you think about this recurring dream...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113149219944142074?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113149219944142074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113149219944142074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113149219944142074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113149219944142074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/11/recurring-dream.html' title='A Recurring Dream...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113119464819844032</id><published>2005-11-05T20:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-05T04:44:08.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>unspoken...</title><content type='html'>there are so many unspoken words between us. there are those that i am afraid to hear. there are those that i'm dying to hear. but we will not hear them. because silence is our refuge. i look at your eyes and speak to them. the eyes are the windows to one's soul they say. i see through your eyes. i understand you. i know the things that go through your mind. at least some of it. there are many things i want to say to you also. but they do not need to be said. you already know. because you know me. you know the words even before they come out from my mouth. you read my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these words will remain unspoken. until such a time when we are free once again. if that time will come. if not, then they will forever be buried in our memories. unspoken words are more powerful than those that are spoken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113119464819844032?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113119464819844032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113119464819844032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113119464819844032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113119464819844032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/11/unspoken.html' title='unspoken...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113073959103256417</id><published>2005-10-31T14:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T22:19:51.133-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Escape...</title><content type='html'>The flowers are now dry, the petals are falling..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to go. Out. Somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;I need some distraction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113073959103256417?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113073959103256417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113073959103256417' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113073959103256417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113073959103256417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/10/escape.html' title='Escape...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113048270912028267</id><published>2005-10-28T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T23:58:29.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling...</title><content type='html'>The rain is falling. I have fallen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113048270912028267?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113048270912028267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113048270912028267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113048270912028267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113048270912028267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/10/falling.html' title='Falling...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18385444.post-113048063090800177</id><published>2005-10-28T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T23:23:50.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To you...</title><content type='html'>who carries me through the days&lt;br /&gt;life is worth living because of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who inspires me&lt;br /&gt;you make me strive to be the best that i can be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who drives me insane&lt;br /&gt;i realize things are sometimes not as they seem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these words are for you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18385444-113048063090800177?l=burstingheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/feeds/113048063090800177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18385444&amp;postID=113048063090800177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113048063090800177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18385444/posts/default/113048063090800177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burstingheart.blogspot.com/2005/10/to-you.html' title='To you...'/><author><name>gentleman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00078023651379080462</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
