<?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-5708821230610380499</id><updated>2011-07-30T17:03:38.455-04:00</updated><title type='text'>She's a myth I have to believe in.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>144</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7044798041025887641</id><published>2010-04-24T02:07:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T02:11:29.362-04:00</updated><title type='text'>live journal.</title><content type='html'>I've decided that I am not going to write in here for a while.&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've been using Live Journal and I sort of like its privacy settings more.&lt;br /&gt;So find me on there.&lt;br /&gt;GirlNCaptivity&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7044798041025887641?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7044798041025887641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/live-journal.html#comment-form' title='30 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7044798041025887641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7044798041025887641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/live-journal.html' title='live journal.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>30</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5329959173833000732</id><published>2010-04-18T17:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T16:28:43.573-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Steady in a sea storm.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICarRUwQI/AAAAAAAAAMw/r67uCPXvFiU/s1600/5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICarRUwQI/AAAAAAAAAMw/r67uCPXvFiU/s400/5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463431955269075202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICZy6-pyI/AAAAAAAAAMo/DrNS1ehghUA/s1600/4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICZy6-pyI/AAAAAAAAAMo/DrNS1ehghUA/s400/4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463431940142966562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICZQTS7dI/AAAAAAAAAMg/k8laKtSgRhM/s1600/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICZQTS7dI/AAAAAAAAAMg/k8laKtSgRhM/s400/3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463431930849717714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICZLVL3lI/AAAAAAAAAMY/fK9VroyOSlE/s1600/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICZLVL3lI/AAAAAAAAAMY/fK9VroyOSlE/s400/2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463431929515466322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICYiX5dQI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/F24HGlncduU/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICYiX5dQI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/F24HGlncduU/s400/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463431918520988930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is sunday april 18.&lt;br /&gt;This past week was probably one of the best ones I've had since being out here.&lt;br /&gt;Lover 1 yr was great, and so was the aquarium, but the best part was just getting to see kaela so much.&lt;br /&gt;Since kaela didnt approve of spray paint or tree carving we chalked a master piece that has already been washed away by the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont really know what to say right now, things are going decent, getting a job isnt happening, I dont know what else really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5329959173833000732?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5329959173833000732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/steady-in-sea-storm.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5329959173833000732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5329959173833000732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/steady-in-sea-storm.html' title='Steady in a sea storm.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S9ICarRUwQI/AAAAAAAAAMw/r67uCPXvFiU/s72-c/5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8104016878409507</id><published>2010-04-10T04:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T17:41:51.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'>underpressure.</title><content type='html'>A lot of things right now seem to be bitter sweet.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that things are starting to go decently for a while and at the same time I know that unstability is right around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this feeling is from knowing that I know what I'm going to choose.&lt;br /&gt;and it feels like the best and right choice for me to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at its end was a million times better then when I woke up today with its expectations.&lt;br /&gt;I saw kaela and hungout with lacie and zac, i really enjoy both of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lover 1yr is coming up,&lt;br /&gt;I need to get some spray paint.&lt;br /&gt;and I have no idea what to get kaela.&lt;br /&gt;hrrrmmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8104016878409507?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8104016878409507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/underpressure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8104016878409507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8104016878409507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/underpressure.html' title='underpressure.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8199341339894428209</id><published>2010-04-08T17:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T02:12:30.211-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ill tie my handlebars to the stars so i stay on track.</title><content type='html'>So right now I am sitting out in this tree park place that I come to a lot, usually i bring my doodle journal and write in and such but today i figured id give this blog something with substance woth reading for the first time in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i came to this park a little while ago the grass was all wet and I sat down next to this tree anyway knowing it would get my pants all dirty, so now i am sitting here feeling sort of lonely and with a wet butt, but its so pretty out and I have nothing to do. &lt;br /&gt;I feel sort of like an animal at the zoo lately everyone is just gawking and tapping on the glasss between us but no one really cares.&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling rather detached to a lot of things and in a way its probably one of the best things for me other wise id be incredibly sad right now and instead i am just uber focused I know what I need to do and I'm doing it.&lt;br /&gt; there are so many things that i want right now and I have none of them&lt;br /&gt;lately ive just been looking around and seeing how everyone else i used to know and even the ones i do are living there lives, making progress in them, even if that does mean they are only in love and popping out kids, in a way i am envious of that. &lt;br /&gt;I am sitting in a park alone in NM and I dont have much going for me, but things seem like they have potential I will get up for the let down.&lt;br /&gt;i miss jacob, i miss jesse, i miss my grandma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8199341339894428209?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8199341339894428209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/ill-tie-my-handlebars-to-stars-so-i.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8199341339894428209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8199341339894428209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/ill-tie-my-handlebars-to-stars-so-i.html' title='Ill tie my handlebars to the stars so i stay on track.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8644693693428439446</id><published>2010-04-07T03:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T03:26:34.882-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Options.</title><content type='html'>I feel like I've got options, its a weird feeling going from feeling like you are just walking down a long rd completely lost and all along youve really had these other choices you didnt realize.&lt;br /&gt;I know that i want to go home, I dont nessisarly want to go back next month though.&lt;br /&gt;Im thinking right now that if I did go back I could have both my my jobs back and I would be able to get set up rather quickly on my own, but id have to go back to my moms for a while and Id have to rely on her and that is something I dont want so Im trying to figure out a way I can avoid that, even though it seems impossible.&lt;br /&gt;right now I feel like I could go futher going back then stay here in NM.&lt;br /&gt;if i stay here i would have a job and Id be happy to see kaela but i dont really see much more then that, and I need to think about what is best for me over all.&lt;br /&gt;So now I am just trying to figure out when exactly I want to go back. if I wait till november then relying on my mom for transportaion would be sketchy and probably unsuccessful and if I go back at some point during the summer then hopefully Id be able to at least drive myself by winter...idk I dont want to go back yet maybe in july? I have not decided but i am itching to go back to college and feel some progress in my life, right now I just feel like i am waisting time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8644693693428439446?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8644693693428439446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/options.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8644693693428439446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8644693693428439446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/options.html' title='Options.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4513305005299034864</id><published>2010-04-05T04:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T04:58:40.824-04:00</updated><title type='text'>all this time and everythings changed, but i still feel the same.</title><content type='html'>I have neglected you. I have been posting else wheres and not really at all for this past week, jesse went home about 22 hours ago and I miss her crazy amounts, I walk around feeling like something is missing. &lt;br /&gt;its funny how sometimes you dont realize that you need or are lacking something until it has to go back to michigan for there own life :/ &lt;br /&gt;These last few weeks havent been great and that isnt to say i didnt have an awesome time whith jesse, she is probably why I didnt end myself by now.&lt;br /&gt;Ive been job hunting and friend probleming and getting marooner everyday.&lt;br /&gt;I havent found my footing here yet, and Im not sure if this is just a stepping stone.&lt;br /&gt;I've spent 5 months prepairing to come here and going home would mean a long while before everything is potentially alright. and staying here I need a job baaaaaad and to meet someone I actually have a connection with..&lt;br /&gt;Right now all I want is to work, live on my own, see jesse, see kaela and go back to college and I cant bottle that.&lt;br /&gt;Im trying really hard to get a job here though cause if and when I do go back to MI i want it to be because I chose too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew how to make myself happier lately Ive just been getting these random single tears along with a lump in my throat at odd moments.&lt;br /&gt;no wonder my stomach is a bottomless pit. I am never full of hungry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4513305005299034864?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4513305005299034864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-this-time-and-everythings-changed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4513305005299034864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4513305005299034864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-this-time-and-everythings-changed.html' title='all this time and everythings changed, but i still feel the same.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2379957853564514788</id><published>2010-03-24T19:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T19:46:40.822-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bullshit.</title><content type='html'>this is all such complete bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;It keeps hurting and I dont want to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;I shouldnt have to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm seriously debating going back to MI,&lt;br /&gt;this is not the future I want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2379957853564514788?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2379957853564514788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/bullshit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2379957853564514788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2379957853564514788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/bullshit.html' title='Bullshit.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8313919504774009702</id><published>2010-03-18T05:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-18T05:46:52.178-04:00</updated><title type='text'>3/18</title><content type='html'>I am feeling rather rough tonight. &lt;br /&gt;and I have no one to talk to since anyone I would want to talk to is either busy or sleeping with a life sized batman doll.&lt;br /&gt;I am so lonely out here that it makes me angry and it was the same back in michigan.&lt;br /&gt;it doesnt go away, moving didnt help.&lt;br /&gt;I honestly dont know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to show everyone that they are wrong, and I can do this,&lt;br /&gt;but I am so tired of fighting.&lt;br /&gt;I do what I do because I dont have anyother choice, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so tired of being alone all of the time.&lt;br /&gt;and this lonliness just makes me not want to be around anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no one really understands.I cant even explain this right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8313919504774009702?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8313919504774009702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/318.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8313919504774009702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8313919504774009702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/318.html' title='3/18'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7209866784156532835</id><published>2010-03-18T03:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-18T04:07:29.483-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I wrong.</title><content type='html'>I'm so tired of my room and sleep comes with a knife fork and a spoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again brand new has my heart.&lt;br /&gt;I'm in sort of an odd mood, lonely and I want to be alone.&lt;br /&gt;Not talk to anyone.&lt;br /&gt;I cant wait till next week is over.&lt;br /&gt;I cant wait till jesse is here,&lt;br /&gt;I cant wait till I get a job, hopefully soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The future is tearing us apart as we speak. :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7209866784156532835?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7209866784156532835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/am-i-wrong.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7209866784156532835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7209866784156532835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/am-i-wrong.html' title='Am I wrong.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8603630193920264619</id><published>2010-03-16T00:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-18T03:51:02.859-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got a feeling...</title><content type='html'>I am laying here in the sort of state that I am just smiling, and I have nothing different to smile about, but I feel sort of unstoppable. &lt;br /&gt;Life is so unstable and beautiful and unfair and over all good?&lt;br /&gt;Theres no places like home, take me home city streets or country roads_ The time travelers wife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8603630193920264619?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8603630193920264619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/ive-got-feeling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8603630193920264619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8603630193920264619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/ive-got-feeling.html' title='I&apos;ve got a feeling...'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2823117069068445818</id><published>2010-03-15T06:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T07:08:15.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'>March madness.</title><content type='html'>Well march is half way over now, its technicly lover 11 months today even though I havent been to bed tonight, I have a feeling I wont be getting much sleep but I really need to fix my sleeping habbits, and now that Ive got my ssc I am going to start trying to get a job, because like it or not I need one to stay out here, and also it would help giving me something to do and hopefully a bit with the social life. Jesse is coming here for spring break and I am very excited about that, I feel so special.&lt;br /&gt;I have been pretty upbeat about being out here, but sometimes I get overly lonely to the point I want to blow my brains out. i am not one that does well on my own for extended periods of time.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I have been talking to amanda again for the first time in over a year, and that makes me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to have been where I have been, I wish we were there now. you will you will you will, lucky Im in love with my best friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2823117069068445818?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2823117069068445818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/march-madness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2823117069068445818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2823117069068445818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/march-madness.html' title='March madness.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4359165608170510810</id><published>2010-03-14T06:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T06:50:07.900-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vagina Girl, Amandabareee</title><content type='html'>I have been slacking at writing in here, and it not because I have been too busy, just rather absent minded, I have  been writing still just in ink. I have been lost in my own thoughts a lot lately, thinking about the past.Kaela recently brought up a girl from my past, she likes to call her my vagina girl, but shes always been so much more then that to me, I found her recently and I have been talking to her again, it is sort of predictable how all those old feelings come right back to the surface, I am not falling for her again, but I am falling into the past I wish I were there with her again. It took me so long to even want to be in a relationship with anyone else, till recently , and now I just feel all mixed up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she is one of those people you meet that instantly change your life, they leave a big impression on you, and that just leaves an even bigger gap when they leave. I have never been more captivated by anyone. &lt;br /&gt;They say you love everyone differently which is how you are able to love and be in love more then once  with more then one person, I wish I could love that exact way again.&lt;br /&gt;and  a part of me wishes it could still be her but honestly our presents have come so far from our past that its almost impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a perfect world we would still  be together.&lt;br /&gt;but in this world I am used to being alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never forget, she was one of the best feelings I have ever had, and kaela that has nothing to do with girl sexing:p&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could explain but I feel like I just did a really bad job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4359165608170510810?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4359165608170510810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/vagina-girl-amandabareee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4359165608170510810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4359165608170510810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/vagina-girl-amandabareee.html' title='Vagina Girl, Amandabareee'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2641347655982730452</id><published>2010-03-08T02:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T02:31:00.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brave. Singular. Same thing.</title><content type='html'>What does it mean to be brave? What do you have to do to be considered brave? What does it take to be considered brave in another’s eyes? &lt;br /&gt;Lately I have gotten this a lot, “Lindsay what you’re doing is really brave.” and the truth is that I am not saving anyone.  Some people might even say that I am running away from my problems, but I swear I’m not. Moving to New Mexico was a way for me to get sort of a fresh start from everything that was burnt out.  I have no concept for time or distance and obviously I have no concept for fear or danger either. I realize what I am doing is brave to some people, but to me it is just something that I have to do to proceed in life.  Everything happens for a reason, and everything will be okay no matter what, and if everyone realized that, then our anxieties would be a lot less pill privileged.&lt;br /&gt;My whole life feels like it could cave in at any second, I felt that living back in Michigan so moving here not much has changed. I can’t explain how singular I feel in this world. Jesse used a metaphor with her friends the other day when we were talking “it’s like trying to fit a square into a circle.” Sometimes I wonder if there is really a person out there complementing me?  Everything seems so out of reach.&lt;br /&gt;I really want to meet new people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2641347655982730452?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2641347655982730452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/brave-singular-same-thing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2641347655982730452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2641347655982730452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/brave-singular-same-thing.html' title='Brave. Singular. Same thing.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5993005862243748488</id><published>2010-03-07T16:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T16:45:31.949-05:00</updated><title type='text'>grr.</title><content type='html'>I guess it is normal to feel this way but, what I really want to know is why? exactly I feel this way? &lt;br /&gt;I want to detach this bullshit from my life, and that seems rather impossible without giving up to much.&lt;br /&gt;And I know I could do that, but would it be worth it?&lt;br /&gt;would I really be better off?&lt;br /&gt;I dont know why it erks me, and I laugh about it,  but it bothers me most.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5993005862243748488?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5993005862243748488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/grr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5993005862243748488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5993005862243748488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/grr.html' title='grr.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3361495607377170071</id><published>2010-03-05T22:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T22:35:49.947-05:00</updated><title type='text'>and the ball is rolling</title><content type='html'>This is my 9th? night in New Mexico and my first night alone, in my new residency. I like this city, I like this house. This is the biggest room I have ever had, and the people I am living with are really likable. Now I just need to focus on getting a job then everything will be peaches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3361495607377170071?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3361495607377170071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/and-ball-is-rolling.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3361495607377170071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3361495607377170071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/and-ball-is-rolling.html' title='and the ball is rolling'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8962464187370556771</id><published>2010-03-03T21:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T21:47:49.104-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time flys out here.</title><content type='html'>I have been in Albuquerque a whole week now, and for the most part I have really enjoyed it. I really like it here. Time is flying, days seem to blend together, but it is nice here, I really enjoy being able to see kaela ALL OF THE TIME and its nice knowing that this will not change for a while. I miss parts of home, but I think the distance for now it just what I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8962464187370556771?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8962464187370556771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/time-flys-out-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8962464187370556771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8962464187370556771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/time-flys-out-here.html' title='Time flys out here.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-729992403770874804</id><published>2010-03-02T02:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T02:24:28.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunshine!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4y9CXygYzI/AAAAAAAAAMI/kVW6yp5C7-k/s1600-h/sunshine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4y9CXygYzI/AAAAAAAAAMI/kVW6yp5C7-k/s400/sunshine.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443933898027328306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are my sunshine,&lt;br /&gt;my only sunshine,&lt;br /&gt;you make me happy when skies are grey.&lt;br /&gt;please, oh please dont take my sunshine away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-729992403770874804?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/729992403770874804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/sunshine.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/729992403770874804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/729992403770874804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/sunshine.html' title='Sunshine!'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4y9CXygYzI/AAAAAAAAAMI/kVW6yp5C7-k/s72-c/sunshine.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5313925623019290941</id><published>2010-03-02T02:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T02:21:12.417-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I guess I wrote this on the bus ride down to NM Feb,23.</title><content type='html'>I dont always see beauty in everyone, most of the time I'm not really sure I see it in myself. I see faces on the street and they are not people to me, not unless they impact me in some way with more then there mere presence. I am traveling and I see them, these two random people in the middle of life and right then is when I start thinking that there are all of these people living lives and I am totally oblivious to them, to there loses there victorys, there love, there lifes. I see other people a road worker and most of all, all of the traffic, but they are not people, they are just cars in the way, or workers doing there job, I dont think about what its like when they go home? I dont know why this matters to me at all, but I feel like I need to know more people because when there are millions of people I feel like I am missing out.&lt;br /&gt; When I first started on this roadless travel I was thinking about my grandma, I think about her more then I addmitt, everyday, but at that moment what struck me was what I used to hear here say when ever see would complain about some young kid she heard about. shed say "All young people think that they are invincible" but I guess taht sort of goes toe in toe with the youth being wasted on the young, everyone being so ready to live, waiting for it to happen and then they are old, they tell there selfs, If I would of known what I know now?&lt;br /&gt;I think that what I am doing is pretty ballsy, so many things could go wrong, but I dont think I am invincible, I'm not afraid because I know at the end everything will be okay, but is it really that I am just that desperate to live?&lt;br /&gt;I never felt like I was living back home, I didnt like the life I had, so now I traded it in for a new one, it is to early to say what I think of what I've got now, I just know that only time will tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5313925623019290941?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5313925623019290941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-guess-i-wrote-this-on-bus-ride-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5313925623019290941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5313925623019290941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-guess-i-wrote-this-on-bus-ride-down.html' title='I guess I wrote this on the bus ride down to NM Feb,23.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5712199633211105534</id><published>2010-03-01T20:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T21:00:47.774-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jessedeeeeeeew</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4xxNsbxneI/AAAAAAAAAL4/hj2V7hnAjIY/s1600-h/5.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 328px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4xxNsbxneI/AAAAAAAAAL4/hj2V7hnAjIY/s400/5.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443850529663983074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the day that I met you, I have been captivated by you, there’s this pull I have too you that won’t let me walk away. It is really something that nothing can explain; Like gravity or some kind of silly fate. I’m pretty sure that no matter where I would of went in this world it wouldn’t have ended without our paths crossing again, I am so glad we’re back, it’s one of the best feelings. &lt;br /&gt;I love you for who you are, and I have grown to admire the person you have been. Your smile has always brightened my days, not a half fast one or a scrunch face, but full on teeth and dimples down to your chin, that is one of my most favorite things. &lt;br /&gt;I like the things you think and the thoughts from your head.  I like the way you sleep with monsters under bed.&lt;br /&gt;You make me laugh, and smile and make dead things feel new. I don’t know how to go back to the person I was before you. I need you in my life otherwise not even the sun shines as bright.&lt;br /&gt;I am so proud of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5712199633211105534?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5712199633211105534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/jessedeeeeeeew.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5712199633211105534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5712199633211105534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/jessedeeeeeeew.html' title='Jessedeeeeeeew'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4xxNsbxneI/AAAAAAAAAL4/hj2V7hnAjIY/s72-c/5.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5654943201764790921</id><published>2010-03-01T18:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T18:41:59.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought for food</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4xQv-f6qLI/AAAAAAAAALw/qfqwwr4H6Xo/s1600-h/20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4xQv-f6qLI/AAAAAAAAALw/qfqwwr4H6Xo/s400/20.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443814834745026738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I’ve lived through my share of misfortune and ive worked in the blazing sun but how long should it take someone before they can be someone."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5654943201764790921?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5654943201764790921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/thought-for-food.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5654943201764790921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5654943201764790921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/thought-for-food.html' title='Thought for food'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4xQv-f6qLI/AAAAAAAAALw/qfqwwr4H6Xo/s72-c/20.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6167215683681187075</id><published>2010-03-01T01:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T02:17:49.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeeeeeelings.</title><content type='html'>Feelings.&lt;br /&gt;Conscience.&lt;br /&gt;Anger.&lt;br /&gt;Heat.&lt;br /&gt;Tears.&lt;br /&gt;Aceptance.&lt;br /&gt;Feel better.&lt;br /&gt;Move Forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went to see this play the other night out here called "The dead mans cell phone" and I am  still thinking about it right now for more reasons then the fact that they said "Girl, you dont know your ass from youre dickens" and when people died in that play where ever they go to they kiss by rubbing head hairs. Ahh the things I find cute.&lt;br /&gt;but I am still thinking about it for a number of reasons. &lt;br /&gt;I dont remember exactly but they said something about how talking on a cell phone is so impersonal, everyone can hear youre hole conversation and no body seems to mind that now a days, and another part of it was that after you have that conversation it is lost, into nowhere, into thin air. I guess you might remember it but it is meaningless if its not written down. So millions of people are saying I love you into thin air. It needs to be documented to be real.&lt;br /&gt;And then another part of it was a bout how people avoid things, like love, and they trick there self into liking someone or talk thereself out of being with someone, something I am overly guilty of, but I think the point of that in the play was that when you die in this play you go with whoever you truely love, like some people only love thereselfs, and I guess the main character realized that she didnt want to be alone she didnt want her life to dissapear into thin air, she didnt want to die in a diner and fall in love with the stranger sitting across from her, even then its only the unreaqited kind of love. so she wanted to love absolutly from that second on&lt;br /&gt;I dont know, I guess some people just need a bigger wake up call then others. &lt;br /&gt;"A womans life is love, a mans love is life"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if that made any sense but I am still thinking about it for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really sure how its made me feel yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6167215683681187075?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6167215683681187075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/feeeeeeelings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6167215683681187075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6167215683681187075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/03/feeeeeeelings.html' title='Feeeeeeelings.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1171513994671262506</id><published>2010-02-28T02:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T02:29:35.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Mexico.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4obVi0LlBI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZU9Mc0ygokM/s1600-h/NM.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4obVi0LlBI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZU9Mc0ygokM/s400/NM.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443193156567536658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I am here now. I dont really know what to say about it, everything is still new and I'm not really sure how these new experiences are affecting me. Everyone is so nice here, that is one thing that I can say, and the weather is a breath of fresh air compared to back home where shit piles of snow is being dumped. &lt;br /&gt;Jesse was right with what she said, " it will feel like a vacation at first" and it does I feel like I am here visiting kaela and at some point I am going to pack my shit and leave until the next time at some point in our futures we can meet again, but no, this is it, this is always, we will see.&lt;br /&gt;Everything isnt as peachy as I am making it sound right now, and I know with in the next week or so it is going to start getting hard, but right now I am trying not to think of the grown up stuff and just be here.&lt;br /&gt;I have had a lot on my mind, and I havent been writing any of it down and I havent really said anything either, I havent been ready to share so I have kept all of my thoughts behind my teeth. I'm not sure how I feel about somethings, or why other things make me feel the way they do, but I can only live moment to moment and day to day, We will worry about tomorrow when it gets here.&lt;br /&gt;I miss a lot of things  about Michigan, but I know it will not be hard for me to fall in love with this place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1171513994671262506?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1171513994671262506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-mexico.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1171513994671262506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1171513994671262506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-mexico.html' title='New Mexico.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4obVi0LlBI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZU9Mc0ygokM/s72-c/NM.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1091551338132988364</id><published>2010-02-26T01:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T01:31:47.155-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe it's just me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4dqy8vS18I/AAAAAAAAALY/OjV93NFfahg/s1600-h/perhaps+love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 223px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4dqy8vS18I/AAAAAAAAALY/OjV93NFfahg/s400/perhaps+love.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442436098231031746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;" I wish we could open our eyes&lt;br /&gt;To see in all directions at the same time&lt;br /&gt;Oh what a beautiful view&lt;br /&gt;If you were never aware of what was around you&lt;br /&gt;And it is true what you said&lt;br /&gt;That I live like a hermit in my own head&lt;br /&gt;But when the sun shines again&lt;br /&gt;I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in "&lt;br /&gt;-Death Cab for Cutie♥ &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1091551338132988364?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1091551338132988364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/maybe-its-just-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1091551338132988364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1091551338132988364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/maybe-its-just-me.html' title='Maybe it&apos;s just me.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S4dqy8vS18I/AAAAAAAAALY/OjV93NFfahg/s72-c/perhaps+love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2877696336461710734</id><published>2010-02-25T18:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T18:13:14.081-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've started a photo blog.</title><content type='html'>http://girlncaptivity.tumblr.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2877696336461710734?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2877696336461710734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/ive-started-photo-blog.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2877696336461710734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2877696336461710734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/ive-started-photo-blog.html' title='I&apos;ve started a photo blog.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6305781103448682667</id><published>2010-02-22T00:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T00:28:45.621-05:00</updated><title type='text'>she said I should write about it</title><content type='html'>Hm.&lt;br /&gt;I never questioned the fact that once you love someone you will always love them.&lt;br /&gt;but i guess what came up today that I never thought of is are we able to love less?&lt;br /&gt;when you get closure on something or someone, you dont feel the same way about them as you once did, so does that mean you love them less or just differently then before?&lt;br /&gt;We all must do it, I think that we all love every person differently which is why we are able to fall inlove with more then one person, but usually, especially romantically, its not more then one person at a time.&lt;br /&gt;So to go from point a to point be, do we love the other person differently then we did before?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has  been my last weekend in michigan and it was a really good one, I have had really great weekends since the end of december honestly. Saturday I got to see lyndz and lizz and I will never forget driving her truck 'through' river side park, haha it was intence. and then today I got to see my prince for the first time in nearly 10 months and I am still pretty tickled about that. and my peach i got to see yesterday and today as well, i am going to meeeeees her, so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so this is it, its technically monday now, so I can say tomorrow I am leaving for NM, and i am looking forward to being there but not the trip there so much.&lt;br /&gt;other then that I dont have much to say tonight.&lt;br /&gt;what will happen next?&lt;br /&gt;only time will tell...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6305781103448682667?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6305781103448682667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/she-said-i-should-write-about-it.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6305781103448682667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6305781103448682667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/she-said-i-should-write-about-it.html' title='she said I should write about it'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6895006302992300701</id><published>2010-02-20T04:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T04:57:01.427-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Secrets.</title><content type='html'>I've got a lot of secrets.&lt;br /&gt;A secret is only a secret if only you know.&lt;br /&gt;The fact of the matter is I am king at keeping secrets.&lt;br /&gt;But today I am going to share a secret, that not anyone really knows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some times I stare at myself on the mirror for long periods of time for no reason, my favorite is a full body mirror, one that I can properly see every inch of myself in. I do this and maybe its kind of vein of me, but maybe you wont think less of my once youve finished this, then again maybe you will.&lt;br /&gt;I cant help catching glimpses of myself in any thing that will produce a reflection. I think its seeing out of your eyes for so long, and then when you finally see yourself, youre seeing the person everyone else sees. Like watching yourself on tape. I see this person and I think shes honestly pretty cute. and shes saying these thing sthat I have said and the faces she makes i dont really recognize. I see this person in the mirror and she is copying exactly each movement I make, replicating it with my own perfection.&lt;br /&gt;This person is supposed to be me? This is who everyone else sees? I dont feel like her.I feel like that out of place middle schooler who didnt really fit in anywhere. I dont understand why you are telling me I'm pretty when I am cringing waiting for you to drop the atomic bomb on my self esteam telling me the 5 words that haunt me, " you look...like a boy."&lt;br /&gt;I look at people, and I watch them, people who I think I should be better then, and I watch them in love, and i sit here and stare at myself and wonder what is wrong with me? You think there petty love would inspire me, most of the time it doesnt.Maybe if its in a good movie? with a good plot, something that couldnt happen in real life, maybe then I will feel it, cause i think those are the things that should happen in real life, but it doesnt, and I just feel inadequate.&lt;br /&gt;So yes, I stare at myself and convince myself that I am pretty. I am alone but I am pretty. I still feel inadequate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish being were enough, but in this world everything circles around love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6895006302992300701?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6895006302992300701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/secrets.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6895006302992300701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6895006302992300701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/secrets.html' title='Secrets.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6093296513858116319</id><published>2010-02-20T00:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T01:15:00.341-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm falling in to memories of you</title><content type='html'>I'm falling into memories of you and things we used to do&lt;br /&gt;Follow me there, a beautiful somewhere, a place that we can share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrap me up in a dream with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately for the most part I feel happy.&lt;br /&gt;at least i recognize one happy feeling I get from my shipmate.&lt;br /&gt;I feel so lucky.&lt;br /&gt;In a way I almost trust her more then anyone, cause she has hurt me and the fact that we are able to be as close as we are after that speaks massive volumes.&lt;br /&gt;Its almost like a second chance but still feels like the first time around?&lt;br /&gt;that doesnt make any since, but i dont give second chances, and it never occured to me that i did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant say there is anything I have ever regreted doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything happens for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;what is meant to be will always be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like these people I have grow close to were always meant to be a part of me.&lt;br /&gt;and without there presence im not really me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the longest time, the person Jesse made me, was dorment, and dead as far as i knew.&lt;br /&gt;and now its alive and it feels good to have that feeling back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jesse makes me happier then anyone that I have ever known could, and she does it with the tiniest flip of a finger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6093296513858116319?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6093296513858116319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-falling-in-to-memories-of-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6093296513858116319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6093296513858116319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-falling-in-to-memories-of-you.html' title='I&apos;m falling in to memories of you'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-289716176169985570</id><published>2010-02-19T03:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T03:28:56.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>less than a week.</title><content type='html'>It is 3am and i am wide awake, Ive got my last day of work tomorrow and saturday at least should be fun. Monday will be bitter sweet and then tuesday it is it, the time is practically now, i will be leaving. I'm not sure how I feel. I feel a lot. I'm ready, but there is a lot that I will miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything happens for a reason right?&lt;br /&gt;Things are changing and I'm not sure what to make of them.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I will just watch these things fall apart into something else I dont recognize.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I get a bad feeling in my belly.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time I ignore it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not afraid, not of anything, There are dangers and bad things and I recognize them for that, but they dont turn my stomach, they dont make me shiver.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I really just dont understand what it is to fear someting, or to stress out at all, I dont understand.&lt;br /&gt;So many bad things could happen when I leave and not to sound cocky at all but I am not afraid, I know no matter what I will be alive when its all said and down?&lt;br /&gt;is this the right choice?&lt;br /&gt;Ive got to believe that it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate growing up.&lt;br /&gt;i hate the fact thatt things have to be any different then they are now, even though everything isnt exactly ideal, i wish i could live in moments in time, nothing constant, just in those moments that mean everything.&lt;br /&gt;Its not moving 300000 away from everything i know that makes me squirm a little, its that, everything is still changing. its not going to be a moment at all.&lt;br /&gt;that dissapoints me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-289716176169985570?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/289716176169985570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/less-than-week.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/289716176169985570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/289716176169985570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/less-than-week.html' title='less than a week.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2427122459119008738</id><published>2010-02-19T03:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T03:13:58.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I cant fight for a gravyard.</title><content type='html'>Didnt they teach you, everythings okay if you settle enough forget your dreams lets pretend Im everything you want me to be. complicated breathing, you never had the guts just to throw me away, life moves slow when everythings the worst version of what you need. I'm just the ground that you happen to fall on when you lost your balance walking around in the rain, you got to your feet? scratched your head and started to gather the life that you dropped all around me. I cant fight for a gravyard anymore.&lt;br /&gt;some people have there money to keep there legs pumping, what moves me is fear that Ill always be alone at the end of the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2427122459119008738?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2427122459119008738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-cant-fight-for-gravyard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2427122459119008738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2427122459119008738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-cant-fight-for-gravyard.html' title='I cant fight for a gravyard.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7090772636033619308</id><published>2010-02-17T13:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T13:27:58.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The truth is.</title><content type='html'>This is the happiest I have been with myself in a long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7090772636033619308?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7090772636033619308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/truth-is.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7090772636033619308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7090772636033619308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/truth-is.html' title='The truth is.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8183412927705019654</id><published>2010-02-12T00:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T01:05:23.714-05:00</updated><title type='text'>she said wont you ever know that I'm in love with you.</title><content type='html'>I'm leaving soon.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm already gone&lt;br /&gt;i dont know if I'm coming or going?&lt;br /&gt;I just know ive been here to long&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8183412927705019654?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8183412927705019654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/she-said-wont-you-ever-know-that-im-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8183412927705019654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8183412927705019654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/she-said-wont-you-ever-know-that-im-in.html' title='she said wont you ever know that I&apos;m in love with you.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-473775773706124110</id><published>2010-02-05T11:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T11:36:15.697-05:00</updated><title type='text'>wow.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xIcj0eWHI/AAAAAAAAALI/vN2gyvx3pg0/s1600-h/09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 307px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xIcj0eWHI/AAAAAAAAALI/vN2gyvx3pg0/s400/09.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434798505818216562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Febuary 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xISKKIH3I/AAAAAAAAALA/YQPg1WTROao/s1600-h/fghf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xISKKIH3I/AAAAAAAAALA/YQPg1WTROao/s400/fghf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434798327131021170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feburary 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a difference a year can make? At this time last year I hadnt even met kaela and in two weeks now I will be moving out to Nm, plus all of the many other differences in my life, and the lack of people that were in it. I dont think people really notices how much I changed until I put up photos like this, its almost like I am a different person, because of course that was a different time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-473775773706124110?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/473775773706124110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/wow.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/473775773706124110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/473775773706124110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/wow.html' title='wow.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xIcj0eWHI/AAAAAAAAALI/vN2gyvx3pg0/s72-c/09.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6304645547925460615</id><published>2010-02-05T11:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T11:21:28.664-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it had to be you</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xE0qneHqI/AAAAAAAAAKo/ROmc5uWhw7U/s1600-h/fghf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xE0qneHqI/AAAAAAAAAKo/ROmc5uWhw7U/s400/fghf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434794521913073314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll get lost, messed up and bored when I'm alone too long I can't sleep, function or eat when I'm not with someone Late last fall, she ended it all and moved to who-knows-where Just like that, she vanished and packed and never even called You feel a certain sense of synergy between yourself and me A kind of macabre and somber Wonder-twin kind of harmony What if it was you? You that I needed all along I felt like a fool, Kicking and screaming and pretending we were wrong Let's get wrecked on pop tarts and sex and see the Taj Mahal Let's save birds from Prince William Sound and skateboard through the mall Let's fight crime with mangoes and limes and join the PGA Let's win big with every spin but hurry, I can't wait Do you spend a fortune on those late-night prepaid television scams In search of the perfect blend of steak knife and non-stick frying pan? What if it was you? You that I needed all along I felt like a fool Thinking we were completely wrong It seemed like a dream A beautiful screen That echoed forever And made us not afraid to feel a thing And after it ends We'll try to be friends They say that what doesn't kill us makes us who we are All this time and everything's changed but I still feel the same All good things eventually end and get washed down the drain What a disaster it would be if you discovered that I cared A little too much for friends but not enough to share What if it was you? You that I needed all along I felt like a fool Now that I'm sure that I was wrong It had to be you. It had to be you. It had to be you. I knew it was you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk about finding a song parallel to your life, I cant explain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6304645547925460615?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6304645547925460615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/ill-get-lost-messed-up-and-bored-when.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6304645547925460615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6304645547925460615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/ill-get-lost-messed-up-and-bored-when.html' title='it had to be you'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xE0qneHqI/AAAAAAAAAKo/ROmc5uWhw7U/s72-c/fghf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4949392930485578862</id><published>2010-02-05T00:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T11:28:44.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I wanna feel how I wanna feel forever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xHOKHYnOI/AAAAAAAAAKw/MypkUOOhCAU/s1600-h/heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xHOKHYnOI/AAAAAAAAAKw/MypkUOOhCAU/s400/heart.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434797158888414434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it hard to be happy for you.&lt;br /&gt;Most days I just dont think about it, but I still know. nothings changing, yet still changing.&lt;br /&gt;coming closer.&lt;br /&gt;Distance is happening starting here, no there, it started there.&lt;br /&gt;I wont stop it. I wont hold you back, go.&lt;br /&gt;Youll have to lose me before you ever really get me.&lt;br /&gt;I will fall in to this chasim, fall in to my home, &lt;br /&gt;its cold out side, and i dont want to  be alone,&lt;br /&gt;its cold out side, its cold by your side, Im just trying to find my way home.&lt;br /&gt;Home, not a place but a feeling.&lt;br /&gt;Theres no place like home,&lt;br /&gt;theres no face, im just homeless.&lt;br /&gt;I lay awake now staring at the ceiling cause we dont talk..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4949392930485578862?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4949392930485578862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-wanna-feel-how-i-wanna-feel-forever.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4949392930485578862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4949392930485578862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-wanna-feel-how-i-wanna-feel-forever.html' title='I wanna feel how I wanna feel forever.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xHOKHYnOI/AAAAAAAAAKw/MypkUOOhCAU/s72-c/heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7726788238031941831</id><published>2010-02-03T13:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T11:30:21.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xHmQJYydI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1x23fBPIG6Q/s1600-h/laksdjf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 287px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xHmQJYydI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1x23fBPIG6Q/s400/laksdjf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434797572824287698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" what do  we know about it you and I? we're not the sort who fall out of love are we?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7726788238031941831?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7726788238031941831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7726788238031941831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7726788238031941831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/love.html' title='love.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S2xHmQJYydI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1x23fBPIG6Q/s72-c/laksdjf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7323986396816173489</id><published>2010-02-03T00:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T00:33:29.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life goes on</title><content type='html'>" days went by like paper in the wind, everything changed, then changed again, its hard to find a friend its hardd to find a friend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im not sure exactly what that lyric quote means to me but Ive been repeating it to myself over and over a lot lately.&lt;br /&gt; Ive been feeling a lot and keeping even more to myself.&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss always says things about how quiet i am, and that you have to watch out for the quiet ones cause they tend to sneak up on you. and I am a quiet one. I believe that every second of life doesnt need to be filled with a voice or a sound, just being is enough, and i observe that from evey angle all day long trying to figure out this human race, why some of them wear there pants up to there titis and others have those perfect kind of dimples that show through there scruff.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There are so many things to take in? so many things to feel, Im not sure i feel any of them deep enough. I was thinking about that today, ive been closed and defensive for so long now, that is all I feel, I dont let that boys smile melt my heart or that ladys pantts make me laugh, cause these are things i see everyday, maybe i have taken them for granted focusing on one thing, &lt;br /&gt;the one thing that is about to happen. what will i focus on next , how will i feel?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7323986396816173489?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7323986396816173489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/life-goes-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7323986396816173489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7323986396816173489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/02/life-goes-on.html' title='Life goes on'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-180834361138263666</id><published>2010-01-31T22:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T22:16:00.222-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I want something good to die for, something to make it beautiful to live.</title><content type='html'>I want something good to die for, something to make it beautiful to live.&lt;br /&gt;Home is where the heat is, I've been homeless for the past 5 months.&lt;br /&gt;That is about to change, I am about to reappear on the radair.&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is physically and metaphoricly.&lt;br /&gt;Home is where the heart is, I'm trying to find my way home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-180834361138263666?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/180834361138263666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-want-something-good-to-die-for.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/180834361138263666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/180834361138263666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-want-something-good-to-die-for.html' title='I want something good to die for, something to make it beautiful to live.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4791323148206493885</id><published>2010-01-30T00:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T00:55:00.508-05:00</updated><title type='text'>this is it.</title><content type='html'>I can make myself cry, i just think of something sad, like happy times that we've only had.&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i feel like Ive got some of the best friends that anyone could ever find, they are all so special to me, and then other times i feel like they are shit cause i am conveinient, and even though i know that is the only reason my social life is taking a turn for the up side, i am going to enjoy it because at least they are around at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somethings hurt a lot to think about how good they were and i feel two things from thinking about them, i think that it makes me sad, really sad, and i also think that i want it again, that all of the pain of it being over is worth having it again. &lt;br /&gt;i want it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes my past seems like another time to me, and im not sure how i lost it, i am sure most days i am still holding it in my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have no idea how this year will pay out and it has me feeling a little uneasy and anxious, but i am still pretty optimistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this.is.it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4791323148206493885?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4791323148206493885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-is-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4791323148206493885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4791323148206493885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-is-it.html' title='this is it.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2769313815434296292</id><published>2010-01-27T00:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T12:13:32.504-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i dont understand.</title><content type='html'>Last night i had two different heart to hearts with two different people simultaneously and in ways everything that was said from both went hand in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont understand, it never occured to me that people love differently, just that people are different, love is love, you do or you dont. I love singularly and i dont know how not too. ive put everything in to one thing and i cant not, i want to. &lt;br /&gt;i want to call someone mine and not have to share them at all&lt;br /&gt; and i need them to want me the same way.&lt;br /&gt;its so hard being a singularly oriented person and the person youve chose isnt, chose is the wrong word, but the intent is there.&lt;br /&gt;ive found that over the years this tends to make me miserable a lot, because honestly i need that back. i need to stop filling friends with this role, obviously cause they leave, get busy or find other things as time goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kaela, maybe this makes things make a little more sense? its not about romantic or friendship, its about..exactly what a penguin represents.always, everything. i know you cant help it, and the way things make me feel i cant really control either. its not fair to you that your this person to me, its really not, and its not fair to me either.&lt;br /&gt;this is why i feel replaced, not as your lover, not as your penguin, not even as your friend, but in spaces i used to fill more that ive got to share. &lt;br /&gt;this will work itself out eventually, and now i can see where ive faulted in it all, you should of never been able to replace emily and nor her jesse or any of the others before them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2769313815434296292?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2769313815434296292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-dont-understand.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2769313815434296292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2769313815434296292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-dont-understand.html' title='i dont understand.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4633383136019892437</id><published>2010-01-25T10:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T10:52:10.427-05:00</updated><title type='text'>goodbye.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S12-J7zG9aI/AAAAAAAAAKg/oQoNyWpGIrs/s1600-h/s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S12-J7zG9aI/AAAAAAAAAKg/oQoNyWpGIrs/s400/s.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430705803558843810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am leaving this place.&lt;br /&gt;Every day I look around and I try to let every part of being where I am sink into me.&lt;br /&gt;The smell, the feeling of it, this was my first home.&lt;br /&gt;I became everything I am in the unfilled spaces of this place.&lt;br /&gt;I will miss the good things.&lt;br /&gt;The smell of cereal down town, the friends I never see the memories of when I did see them.&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard to part with all of the things I’ve become overly attached to, but I am letting nothing go, just making space between.&lt;br /&gt;For the first time in my life, I am the one leaving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4633383136019892437?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4633383136019892437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/goodbye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4633383136019892437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4633383136019892437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/goodbye.html' title='goodbye.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S12-J7zG9aI/AAAAAAAAAKg/oQoNyWpGIrs/s72-c/s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7760297427278194838</id><published>2010-01-25T10:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T10:49:38.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I think of at work.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S129j_jhvjI/AAAAAAAAAKY/i3xeYmN720w/s1600-h/c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S129j_jhvjI/AAAAAAAAAKY/i3xeYmN720w/s400/c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430705151732203058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man depleting life decreasing he is dead&lt;br /&gt;I open his shirt open his chest&lt;br /&gt;I tear out his lungs, tear out his ribs.&lt;br /&gt;I ate his heart till there was nothing left.&lt;br /&gt;Man full of love with every breath, love goes on, but he, he is dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7760297427278194838?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7760297427278194838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/things-i-think-of-at-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7760297427278194838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7760297427278194838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/things-i-think-of-at-work.html' title='Things I think of at work.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S129j_jhvjI/AAAAAAAAAKY/i3xeYmN720w/s72-c/c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3831896702810200293</id><published>2010-01-25T10:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T10:38:04.877-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll love you for it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S126wLBMVEI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/BueQKMTyv5I/s1600-h/g.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S126wLBMVEI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/BueQKMTyv5I/s400/g.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430702062432965698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its tested through distance of time and space the real strength of a friendship&lt;br /&gt; its not always being around or never leaving at all, its the place youve ingraved in my heart that lets us pick up where we left off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we might not be always but i promise i will love you for it.yeah we might not be...but ill love you for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3831896702810200293?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3831896702810200293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/ill-love-you-for-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3831896702810200293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3831896702810200293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/ill-love-you-for-it.html' title='I&apos;ll love you for it.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S126wLBMVEI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/BueQKMTyv5I/s72-c/g.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3179305258019721039</id><published>2010-01-25T01:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T10:26:06.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>:]</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S124CZ-E7rI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/o8SVplnA-Go/s1600-h/a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S124CZ-E7rI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/o8SVplnA-Go/s400/a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430699077149191858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I havent felt this way in so long, i feel like I am flying.&lt;br /&gt;i dont know what caused this personal high i am expierencing tonight but i can only hope as things keep working out that it will stay around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe its not my weekend but its gonna be my year.&lt;br /&gt;twothousandandten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3179305258019721039?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3179305258019721039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3179305258019721039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3179305258019721039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title=':]'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S124CZ-E7rI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/o8SVplnA-Go/s72-c/a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3774791520069921563</id><published>2010-01-23T20:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T10:28:36.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>we were.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S124nXjXIxI/AAAAAAAAAKA/zrLccBaj6hM/s1600-h/b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S124nXjXIxI/AAAAAAAAAKA/zrLccBaj6hM/s400/b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430699712155427602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the days when i would run to you? run to you?&lt;br /&gt;well now Im just running in place, running somwhow further away from you.&lt;br /&gt;everyday i feel my heart break from you...once upon a time it was dead and it would race for only you.&lt;br /&gt;i keep wondering what i did wrong? but i go over it again and i can find none on my fault.&lt;br /&gt;I loved you,you knew it. i still do, it makes no difference.&lt;br /&gt;thats all we are, we were best friends.&lt;br /&gt;Im just running in place, maybe youll come around if i stay? maybe i can feel that again when the smile smothers your face.&lt;br /&gt;i see it in pictures but its never the same, its not mine.&lt;br /&gt;id give up anything, but for all the months ive been running in place ive been getting somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;youre happy and Im bitter about it.&lt;br /&gt;you miss me as much as i miss you, i dont believe you.&lt;br /&gt;its killing me, youd be dead,&lt;br /&gt;kept in the basement with worries i havent fed.&lt;br /&gt;i want to see you swallow it whole.&lt;br /&gt;we dont talk anymore and your lies get you by, keep me holding on, hold me tonight?&lt;br /&gt;i miss your warmth wrapped around me tight, nowhere for holes to chill me, lies.&lt;br /&gt;They get to me now in this cold apartment; i feel them creeping open every night, and ive got a new one ive named after you, its draft never subsides, its been going strong for 9 months, 9.&lt;br /&gt;i miss laying in bed picking a part eachothers chest till we knew them inside out, nothings left.&lt;br /&gt;ive got secrets now you wouldnt want to know.&lt;br /&gt;you dont see me, no you dont see me at all.&lt;br /&gt;my heart...&lt;br /&gt;at night i hold the rest, clenching hard on to brusied ribs, i hold whats left, hold it inside, i cannot say its something i regret.&lt;br /&gt;youre not really mine anymore and i know it, which means you never really were, i know it.&lt;br /&gt;i think about all the nights you had me convienced you were.&lt;br /&gt;i was all yours.&lt;br /&gt;now i just think, and i think it really hurts to think.&lt;br /&gt;Im not a princess, this isnt a fairytale.&lt;br /&gt;Im just are girl and youre just to busy working 15 to 20 hours a week to see.&lt;br /&gt;what if our love isnt enough,&lt;br /&gt;its not undying and ever lasting.&lt;br /&gt;Ive needed you here.&lt;br /&gt;ive been running in place and you just cant keep up...&lt;br /&gt;you didnt even try.&lt;br /&gt;you never left but youre never around.&lt;br /&gt;are you going to be busy for the rest of your life?&lt;br /&gt;ive cried from you more times then fingers and toes of everyone im around could count.&lt;br /&gt;ive died inside waiting for you.&lt;br /&gt;im not living, im just walking around.&lt;br /&gt;i love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3774791520069921563?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3774791520069921563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/we-were.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3774791520069921563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3774791520069921563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/we-were.html' title='we were.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S124nXjXIxI/AAAAAAAAAKA/zrLccBaj6hM/s72-c/b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1223750366343226329</id><published>2010-01-23T00:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T10:32:05.348-05:00</updated><title type='text'>fuzzy blue lights.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S125c5A7qWI/AAAAAAAAAKI/HQlL66NKMVI/s1600-h/w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 368px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S125c5A7qWI/AAAAAAAAAKI/HQlL66NKMVI/s400/w.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430700631670892898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listen to this song over and over and it doesnt end, over and over it doesnt end.&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting here tonight and I feel like I need to write need to share because the truth is ive been keeping a lot to myself.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure this is going to work out, but Im never going to give it up till you hate me for it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of being angry all the time, for reasons i cant control, for reasons i shoudnt even be angry, but it bothers me, it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im tired of crying, Im tired of being sad, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im tired of letting you down, i know i do even though you dont say it, nothing ever works out perfectly like we want.&lt;br /&gt;  Its not your job to save me, you can walk away at any second.&lt;br /&gt;im not your anchor so dont hold on to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep trying to think of all the good that will come, its really all that keeps me going,  curling up in a ball wont change anything for me, its not that i have a good head on my shoulders or that i know how to handle this well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dealing with life, im not living.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;life is fagile.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;things are going to change. im tired of waiting for you to be the person I know you were.&lt;br /&gt;you make me so sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ive got so much to do in a month, but everything is pretty much already set besides finding a place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh please will at least one thing go right for me? please?&lt;br /&gt; am i really that bad of a person?&lt;br /&gt;makes me hate myself, everythings my fault.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1223750366343226329?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1223750366343226329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/fuzzy-blue-lights.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1223750366343226329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1223750366343226329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/fuzzy-blue-lights.html' title='fuzzy blue lights.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/S125c5A7qWI/AAAAAAAAAKI/HQlL66NKMVI/s72-c/w.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-9077872248598073666</id><published>2010-01-18T23:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T23:59:19.381-05:00</updated><title type='text'>its my favorite time to be alive.</title><content type='html'>Mondays at work always seem so fucking long, and ive got a head ache.&lt;br /&gt;i couldnt see myself working in this factory for years to come no matter how good the pay.&lt;br /&gt;i think id like my next job to be something chil with food, like the other night when i went to sweet waters with lizz and lyndz, no costomers and donuts,  i could totally thrive :p muahah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;things really arent any better but i genuienly just dont give a fuck about anything or anyone right now, im whatcha call detached.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-9077872248598073666?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/9077872248598073666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-my-favorite-time-to-be-alive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/9077872248598073666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/9077872248598073666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-my-favorite-time-to-be-alive.html' title='its my favorite time to be alive.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7690907326547080887</id><published>2010-01-17T01:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T14:51:15.304-05:00</updated><title type='text'>your beginning is half over</title><content type='html'>Lately ive felt very antisocial and Ive tried really hard to not give in to it.  Ive talked but it doesnt make a difference but after last night i feel a little better then i have been. its nice to have someone say something different then im sorry i wish i could help. even if its just that they believe in me.&lt;br /&gt; i look forward to everyday to come, every moment I have yet to unwravel&lt;br /&gt;even if i will always miss the old ones in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;if its meant to be it will be.&lt;br /&gt;nothing worth having comes easy, yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent today walking in my past, that is the best way to discribe it, that is how i feel when im with jesse, lyndz or lizz, or its like they are visiting a future version of me. we havent seen eachother in so long, but everything still comes easy, i just dont feel the same and as much as ive missed them a part of me just wants to put a lid on that time in my life where they all played bigger roles.&lt;br /&gt;Ive been saying for a while id like to have my future but with parts of my past intertwined still in it and that is exactly what ive gotten lately. my past and present mixing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even though what im getting isnt exactly what i want i know its enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think with my heart, i follow my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;times are changing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7690907326547080887?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7690907326547080887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-needed-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7690907326547080887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7690907326547080887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-needed-that.html' title='your beginning is half over'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-254150169869572538</id><published>2010-01-16T00:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T01:09:49.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>5 weeks.</title><content type='html'>I am so high i am never coming down, cause youre mine, you decided to stay decided to stay around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;i wish i felt that way.&lt;br /&gt;i would give anything almost to feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;theres a lot to do, but tomorrow i will get to hangout with lyndz and lizz for the first time in 9 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel like im really in control of eveything right now and at the same time i feel like im not in control of anything&lt;br /&gt;i still want to cry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-254150169869572538?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/254150169869572538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/5-weeks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/254150169869572538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/254150169869572538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/5-weeks.html' title='5 weeks.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2537490552183623872</id><published>2010-01-12T01:57:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T01:08:53.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>im afraid</title><content type='html'>That everything we are is everything we ever were and before i know it this love light will burn out just like hers.&lt;br /&gt;i dont think i can take it, no i really dont.&lt;br /&gt;im afraid, not jealous.&lt;br /&gt; hoping for the best just hopin nothing happens.&lt;br /&gt;im not as strong &lt;br /&gt; and every day this weight lays heavy on me.&lt;br /&gt;i  want out.&lt;br /&gt;i want something better.&lt;br /&gt; and no matter what &lt;br /&gt;i get the good with the bad&lt;br /&gt;the bad always seems to out weight the rest&lt;br /&gt; how will i ever digg myself out of this sunken chest.&lt;br /&gt;i am afraid&lt;br /&gt;i am afraid you wont look at me the same&lt;br /&gt; when you see,&lt;br /&gt; see that .my smile has changed&lt;br /&gt;its a piece of work ive learned to display.&lt;br /&gt;im fine but im afraid.&lt;br /&gt;i Have nothing to say&lt;br /&gt;we wont say it,  weve changed.&lt;br /&gt;youre not mine &lt;br /&gt;you dont even see me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2537490552183623872?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2537490552183623872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-afraid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2537490552183623872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2537490552183623872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-afraid.html' title='im afraid'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-758280971952097715</id><published>2010-01-11T13:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T23:54:28.127-05:00</updated><title type='text'>solo</title><content type='html'>Ive got this giant hole in my chest that i feel a constant draft blowing through.&lt;br /&gt;god i miss you,  i love you, you break me so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ive got this feeling inside that i might explode. i really do love you so much.&lt;br /&gt;Im just happy?&lt;br /&gt;im afraid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im in an odd mood today.&lt;br /&gt;days like these im glad i have a jobby so i have something to do at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blahh.&lt;br /&gt;i should be happy right now but i feel like crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 months of dating&lt;br /&gt;8months since ive seen you; since you promised id be seeing a lot of you, so soon.&lt;br /&gt;4 months since ive left, still you fuck everything up with the infinent reach of your arm.&lt;br /&gt;6 weeks till NM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im alone not lonely, just hold me tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ready.&lt;br /&gt;i am ready&lt;br /&gt;i am ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im know i wont kid myself running away from this that all of these feelings will go away&lt;br /&gt;i just need new distractions, rather then the same old ones tainted by everything thats happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im feeling a little rough around the edges today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-758280971952097715?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/758280971952097715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/solo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/758280971952097715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/758280971952097715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/solo.html' title='solo'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2803057799275954</id><published>2010-01-10T21:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T02:01:43.911-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so tell me you love me cause it makes me feel alive&lt;3</title><content type='html'>This year things will change, ive got a rumble in my belly but i cannot know what these changes will bring, or if they will make me happy at all but as long as my feet are on the ground and my heart stays lost high up in the clouds i think that everything will be alright. this is like ripping out your organs just to see if they will stick to the wall, this is like jumping not knowing whats at the bottom, I will not come out of this unscraped or unchanged i do not expect that much, but this year ; dear days i have yet to meet, just know that i am expexpecting so much out of each of you, so please oh please dont let me down to low. &lt;br /&gt;i am alone right now for the first time this year and ive had a lot on my mind lately crawling under the surface of my skin that i can finally sit here and pick each one out. december sort of flew by even as i impatiently counted down each day, and now its nearly half way through january and before i know it i will be in another state far away from this spot i sit and type this at now. I am ready for that. &lt;br /&gt;honestly eventhough it is the beginning of a new year it hasnt felt that way for me yet, i feel like everything is still closing up and coming to an end, i havent started over yet.&lt;br /&gt;i had a great time these last few weeks with kaela and seeing jesse was peaches,  and emily, my emily i hope i will see her before i go.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;it is time to grow up again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2803057799275954?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2803057799275954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-tell-me-you-love-me-cause-it-makes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2803057799275954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2803057799275954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-tell-me-you-love-me-cause-it-makes.html' title='so tell me you love me cause it makes me feel alive&lt;3'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7078777842543857311</id><published>2009-12-28T11:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T11:14:04.702-05:00</updated><title type='text'>today is the day.</title><content type='html'>I am on a train right now for the first time in my life and i am going to a state ive never been to before today as well to see a girl that well ive seen many times but only for the second time in the skin. and im pretty stoked contradicting the feeling of purging in the back of my throat. today is the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7078777842543857311?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7078777842543857311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/today-is-day.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7078777842543857311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7078777842543857311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/today-is-day.html' title='today is the day.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2480490464745116974</id><published>2009-12-26T02:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T03:04:12.645-05:00</updated><title type='text'>see you next year.</title><content type='html'>I have been sickly, but i think im getting better, at least I hope! today has seemed really long and this morning feels like days ago probably a lot to do with the nothingness i filled my day with, after all christmas is just another day if you dont celebrate it and jesus well he was just another boy born on this day if you dont believe in him either.&lt;br /&gt;I spent the day sleeping a lot but gave up on it after my phone wouldnt stop going off, and then i guess i just spent the day reading and talking to kaela and jesse a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Tonight i am totally stoked and smiley now that christmas is over which means after the two days that follow i will be with a cute doctor lover girl pengiun hehehe, i cant wait.&lt;br /&gt;I cant really think of words to express how that makes me feel, like i could scream? like i could run? NO! my doctor wouldnt approve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ive got about a month and a half left before im suppose to move and i can only hope that things start feeling like theyve got meaning and a point in doing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; one last thing, i dont like christmas and i dont like new years for the simple facts, my family is stupid and i have a hard time parting with my years. for some people new years fills them with hope and renews something in them, but for me it just kills something and implodes it inside of my stomach and makes me feel all to singular.&lt;br /&gt;life seems to short when you restart every 365 days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2480490464745116974?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2480490464745116974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-have-been-sickly-but-i-think-im.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2480490464745116974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2480490464745116974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-have-been-sickly-but-i-think-im.html' title='see you next year.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1563348428764755112</id><published>2009-12-25T02:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T02:40:09.419-05:00</updated><title type='text'>am i missing?</title><content type='html'>Completely alone in a place of millions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1563348428764755112?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1563348428764755112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/am-i-missing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1563348428764755112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1563348428764755112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/am-i-missing.html' title='am i missing?'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-180773386328557802</id><published>2009-12-25T01:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T01:40:07.798-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything is Kismet</title><content type='html'>I will be the elephant in the room,&lt;br /&gt;that sets the mood and holds your gloom.&lt;br /&gt;your heavy chest.&lt;br /&gt;The draft from outside&lt;br /&gt;and the rash marking your face from your cries.&lt;br /&gt;The hard floor beneath you&lt;br /&gt;the empty satisfaction you sleep to.&lt;br /&gt;the laugh echoing from others defeats you.&lt;br /&gt;I will be everything kismet,&lt;br /&gt;Your roots turning grey&lt;br /&gt;your bed where you sleep alone and lay awake.&lt;br /&gt;The guilt that you hide is a thorne in your side&lt;br /&gt;its your pride full of tears youll never cry that gives every weapon with lack of merrit justified.&lt;br /&gt;you are kismet&lt;br /&gt;Our bodies apart&lt;br /&gt;our hearts, share the same clean swip leaving both of them scared.&lt;br /&gt;These two are stubborn&lt;br /&gt;that one is a caniving hag.&lt;br /&gt;all ignorant&lt;br /&gt;for they know not what they will lose.&lt;br /&gt;everything is kismet,&lt;br /&gt;life goes on&lt;br /&gt;family, i wouldnt know&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-180773386328557802?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/180773386328557802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/everything-is-kismet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/180773386328557802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/180773386328557802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/everything-is-kismet.html' title='Everything is Kismet'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1785771371397010444</id><published>2009-12-23T23:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T23:51:02.069-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tonight</title><content type='html'>Tonight i feel like if someone wanted to use my body to let out a bit of pent up aggression, i would let them, i would let them beat the shit out of me and id sit there and take it. thats what i feel like tonight. &lt;br /&gt;as a metaphore to my life, if i tried to fight back and i wasnt strong enough in the end i will have tried and not given up but it was all pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a lot of things seem pointless.&lt;br /&gt;im tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1785771371397010444?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1785771371397010444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/tonight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1785771371397010444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1785771371397010444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/tonight.html' title='tonight'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8384389990920327179</id><published>2009-12-22T00:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T01:23:43.489-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a little different, a little more of the same</title><content type='html'>So i am laying in bed tonight and i cant sleep and everyones too busy to text me I guess but i feel like blogging cause my perspective has changed but the feeling in my gut is still the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love has no rules or boundaries&lt;br /&gt;and makes no sense most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; i dont know why going with out seeing my prince makes me cry like a bitch, but when i talk to her i feel like an asshole but i feel better&lt;br /&gt;but i know i will be crying again in a few weeks because i will still be alone and the time will be longer yet since ive seen her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the heart wants what it wants and as happy as i am to be seeing all of these people lyndz, lizz, jesse and even kaela &lt;br /&gt;honestly there will be at least one minute i will look at each of them and wish they were emily. and i feel horrible about that.&lt;br /&gt;it makes me sad that there not enough, i know ive got good friends that care so much but when it comes down to it&lt;br /&gt;i need my prince and there is nothing and no one that can really make me feel better but her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8384389990920327179?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8384389990920327179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/little-different-little-more-of-same.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8384389990920327179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8384389990920327179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/little-different-little-more-of-same.html' title='a little different, a little more of the same'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-233394631942731192</id><published>2009-12-20T22:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T12:54:49.034-05:00</updated><title type='text'>im a bolt loose of a complete machine.</title><content type='html'>This weekend has sucked ass and my cheeks are all red and sore cause i cant stop fucking crying. i dont know how i feel about anything, im feeling everything and ive got everything to say and at the same time nothing, nothing at all, im feeling the swich  from sad to anger happening though im not sure how long it will last before i am crying like a bitch again, i need to function some how.&lt;br /&gt;usually i can shake this feeling by now and feel better, but im trying to not talk to you so you cant do your magic little thing where you make my head spin and youre not bothering to talk to me either which has delt me this past weekend &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These past 7 months have changed me over and again, and ive needed you there so fucking much.&lt;br /&gt;and this, these tears mean nothing cause i love you, always will, which means as long as im in control of my own two legs ill never leave you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ttys&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-233394631942731192?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/233394631942731192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-bolt-loose-of-complete-machine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/233394631942731192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/233394631942731192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-bolt-loose-of-complete-machine.html' title='im a bolt loose of a complete machine.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5040729878949322819</id><published>2009-12-19T13:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T16:25:05.789-05:00</updated><title type='text'>question.</title><content type='html'>Why does your face get dry and itchy when you cry for?&lt;br /&gt;I dont know what triggored my sob fest this time, but its always the same reasons.&lt;br /&gt;its always you, and  how happy and carefree you are going on with your little life leaving me in the dust to collect the dirt that will lead me home some place you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but dirt is everywhere&lt;br /&gt;this is getting me nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you wanted to be around you would be and your not.&lt;br /&gt;i think just realizing its been seven months now since ive seen you, this month has been so busy for me and has gone by so fast, but the heart never misses a beat does it. it never forgets.&lt;br /&gt; you havent wanted to see me really once for 7 months now.&lt;br /&gt;best friends?&lt;br /&gt;i think this is royally fucked up, you break me.&lt;br /&gt;happy christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5040729878949322819?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5040729878949322819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/question.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5040729878949322819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5040729878949322819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/question.html' title='question.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5419150774529149809</id><published>2009-12-19T01:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T01:18:45.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i have a feeling i will be writing about you a lot.</title><content type='html'>I wish that i could be brutally honest with you, but i cant, at least not anymore, you make me sad most of the time. Ive needed you sooo much and you dont care you dont give a fuck, times are changing. im growing stronge and as distant as our bodies that dont touch&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5419150774529149809?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5419150774529149809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-have-feeling-i-will-be-writing-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5419150774529149809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5419150774529149809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-have-feeling-i-will-be-writing-about.html' title='i have a feeling i will be writing about you a lot.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6283650238735163806</id><published>2009-12-18T23:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T14:55:14.894-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it was a rough week and now its over;</title><content type='html'>My eyes are warm,&lt;br /&gt;my fingers hurt, my job is taxing.&lt;br /&gt;my shoulders hurt,&lt;br /&gt;im exhausted&lt;br /&gt;and I need a break&lt;br /&gt;I dont want to slow down though&lt;br /&gt;I just need to be able to keep this pace and function&lt;br /&gt;Jesse makes me smile so much,&lt;br /&gt;kaela is going to make me sing :/ ha that shows how much i love her if moving thousands of miles away from home didnt convence here ha.&lt;br /&gt; things seem to be going alright i think,&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i get things played out in my head before they happen and its all wrong.&lt;br /&gt; a lot of things are still the same though,&lt;br /&gt;like sleeping on the cold floor,being black sheeped and taken advantage of&lt;br /&gt;all in a days work.&lt;br /&gt;i think this blog sucks&lt;br /&gt;im just writing sentence as they come&lt;br /&gt;theres no flow to it ha, lameeee&lt;br /&gt;i wish i werent alone right now&lt;br /&gt;i get to seeeeee kaela in 8 days now i can hardly believe it.&lt;br /&gt;im spending christmas alone&lt;br /&gt;i dont mind much it doesnt feel like christmas anyway&lt;br /&gt;i cant believe i will hopefully be moving in 6 weeks the thought is rediculous.&lt;br /&gt;umm ha i should end this&lt;br /&gt;goodnight happy christmas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6283650238735163806?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6283650238735163806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-was-rough-week-and-now-its-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6283650238735163806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6283650238735163806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-was-rough-week-and-now-its-over.html' title='it was a rough week and now its over;'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5901080676888905962</id><published>2009-12-18T10:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T13:33:30.969-05:00</updated><title type='text'>truth, i didnt even notcied.</title><content type='html'>Not until you spilled your guts.&lt;br /&gt;Ive been to caught up in myself lately.&lt;br /&gt;Im so angry all of the time&lt;br /&gt;everyday i feel this boiling up and sImmering down inside myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5901080676888905962?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5901080676888905962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/truth-i-didnt-even-notcied.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5901080676888905962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5901080676888905962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/truth-i-didnt-even-notcied.html' title='truth, i didnt even notcied.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3023033477567994934</id><published>2009-12-16T00:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T01:04:55.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>yawwwwwwwn.</title><content type='html'>Im tired, i should be sleeping, i dont know whats good for me obviously. 60 of work this week, 3 days next then then then...4? or 5 days till LOVER! and maybe seeing jesse on christmas? and when i get back. wow@social life ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"lindsay wishes she could master the art of sleeping and telling you about everything youve missed: but yes, she is only human, so sleeeep will win tonight"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my head is spinning, my heart is heavy, my hands are busy. I feel all mixed up :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3023033477567994934?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3023033477567994934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/yawwwwwwwn.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3023033477567994934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3023033477567994934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/yawwwwwwwn.html' title='yawwwwwwwn.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3260014106936745072</id><published>2009-12-13T15:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T15:23:15.857-05:00</updated><title type='text'>yay@moobile blogging!</title><content type='html'>Mobile blog? Haha check check..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3260014106936745072?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3260014106936745072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/mobile-blog-haha-check-check.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3260014106936745072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3260014106936745072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/mobile-blog-haha-check-check.html' title='yay@moobile blogging!'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2261136558935220735</id><published>2009-12-13T03:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T03:29:25.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>your a sunday afternoon with nothing to do</title><content type='html'>I'm not naive enough not to know that there isnt bad in the world, but nonetheless i know there is good in it as well. I'm not open minded enough to see the good or beauty in everyone but i still think everyone has something to offer, a role to play. I believe in second chances but I dont give them out. I dont believe anything that happens is not fair, sometimes I will say its not out of human habit but I believe more then anything what is meant to be will be, everything happens for a reason. I have felt the drastic changes over the years in myself but it still seems to me that people will never change. I want to relive my past with my futures differences.&lt;br /&gt;I've got a one track mind that is aways a consistanly double standard but still somehow all of these things work for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what it feels like to be so sure of yourself?&lt;br /&gt;Well honestly I'm not even a little for not even a second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I seriously walk around feeling everything, happy, thankful,warm, sad, and miserable.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when the room is quiet I can feel  my insides screaming out for something I'm not sure of because the fact of the matter is I've been trying to ignore it long enough to get through a few more weeks.&lt;br /&gt;Life seems to be held together by a fragile little thread for me and I am all to aware at every sharp object that circles it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2261136558935220735?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2261136558935220735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/your-sunday-afternoon-with-nothing-to.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2261136558935220735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2261136558935220735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/your-sunday-afternoon-with-nothing-to.html' title='your a sunday afternoon with nothing to do'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7168299949940206162</id><published>2009-12-12T18:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T18:28:41.517-05:00</updated><title type='text'>swing swing</title><content type='html'>Swing swing swing, feels like Ive been doing a lot of that the past few months, something falls through I latch on to something else, I call this getting by. i dont like the unstability of it. I dont like having a place to sleep but still technically being homeless. i hate that if i miss another day of work i will be out a job even though my boss tells me im doing really good there. " the future is near but never certain" yes. &lt;br /&gt;Kaela has been making me blush so much lately, I cant wait to see her.&lt;br /&gt;I've been talking to jesse loads, the other day she invited me to hangout and I seriously feel giddy and nervous as a school girl about it. ahhhh its odd cause of everything that happened but at the same time its amazing how it doesnt matter not  and we can talk like we used to, i just wonder if it will feel the same to me, i guess we will know when I see her if we have both changed too much and wanting the past just isnt good enough.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its the weeeeeekend; lets have fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7168299949940206162?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7168299949940206162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/swing-swing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7168299949940206162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7168299949940206162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/swing-swing.html' title='swing swing'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4347259740044288359</id><published>2009-12-10T19:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T20:27:47.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>always me, always you.</title><content type='html'>I have no self control when youre pulling my heart strings, dear puppet master lets kick this out one more time we're with friends. &lt;br /&gt;youre the one that said my smile lights up this whole room, i never agree, a smile always looks best on you. and youre the one that said always me, and always you. I always hear you say how my smile makes you feel so good, my smile?? and that it lights this spark inside of you youd of burnt out without. I've never told you the way you showed me this life inside myself, the way i still feel just as inanimate when you leave, and non existent till i meet your gaze and see you smile, yeah you smiling at me. Its only then do i ever feel Im really in a room, that my hands and legs arent coming unglued, its only then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when youre around i feel like a child again, not stuck between this warp of inanimate and human, but i know now that every word was only lip service, we're here for the show, and it will be the best damn show. no strings attached.&lt;br /&gt;at least I'm a puppet at least im not real. id get my feelings hurt when you put me back up on the shelf, till another night, another twilight, at least puppets dont cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll never leave you though just like my legs will never walk without the slide of your hand, and I'll always wait till you come back. I wait here till you come back, youll come back you always come back to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4347259740044288359?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4347259740044288359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/always-me-always-you.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4347259740044288359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4347259740044288359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/always-me-always-you.html' title='always me, always you.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7394627322565595081</id><published>2009-12-10T15:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T16:08:39.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'>this is the first day of my life, im glad i didnt die before i met you</title><content type='html'>Almost every day i wake up smiling cause I know I'm another day closer to another place warmer. I have been blushing a lot the last few days to the point that every inch of my body almost feels all warm and fuzzy. Right now my feet are freezing but Im to lazy to go put any socks on. and i seriously cannot stop eating, but I'm a smiley fool cause of the bananas I found in the kitchen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really donnot like snow and it has been coming down for more then the last 24hrs straight, i couldnt go to work today because of it, because the roads are ice, i hope this shit clears up before saturday so i can take my road test, and be an offical licensed driver. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mom and little brother are yelling again and its making it really fuckin hard to think, i helped lyndz get a job at asmo and when she ignored me yesterday that seriously sort of rubbed me the wrong way, and then while i was on break before doing over time lastnight emily called, and it was pathetic how many things that i couldnt think to say in 5 minutes, i dunno whats wrong with me, my hearts just not in a lot of things right now but only one thing for sure, 17 days, i cant wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7394627322565595081?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7394627322565595081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-is-first-day-of-my-life-im-glad-i.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7394627322565595081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7394627322565595081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-is-first-day-of-my-life-im-glad-i.html' title='this is the first day of my life, im glad i didnt die before i met you'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1980693273522696561</id><published>2009-12-07T23:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T00:10:02.804-05:00</updated><title type='text'>guess whos back?</title><content type='html'>Lindsays back, tell some men, haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so ive decided that i can start posting blogs again erry day or at least a hell of a lot more often because i do have nets on my phone, with that being said they will be short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am exausted right now its been a long day of waiting,freezing,starving,working and the such. hopefully tomorrow more of the hrs in the day i will spend sleeeping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i found out today that i will be spending christmas aloneeee this year which is sort of something i foresaw months back. but all in the same im not sad about it infact for the last hr of work today i kept myself awake by repeating all of the christmas like songs flowing through my head so i dobt really know how i feel i think im sort of upbeat about it only cause i get to see kaela soon, thats pretty much all i want for christmas and im getting it, ive got a lover ticket!.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jingle bells, batman smells, robin layed an egg, somthing something joker got away hahah its seriously been years since that song has crossed my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;goodnight streetlight, goodnight moon&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1980693273522696561?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1980693273522696561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/guess-whos-back.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1980693273522696561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1980693273522696561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/guess-whos-back.html' title='guess whos back?'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2573202275921369580</id><published>2009-12-05T20:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T20:50:42.835-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Forget everything you think you know about me, this isnt high school this isnt high school</title><content type='html'>Again do the lyriics of Brand New float to the top of my subconscience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lately ive been observing this occuration with the people that i am surrounded by everyday&lt;br /&gt;its become really clear to me that the person you were in high school and the things you did dont mean shit for who you will be and how much ass you are capable of getting in the "real" life afterit.&lt;br /&gt;All the click barriers that we put infront of ourselfs then arent tall enough to still hold there own weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we are all just people. i am just a person.&lt;br /&gt;i can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone as long as it makes me happy and i will always be accepted for it by someone, even if its not "family" the ones that are suppose to love you unconditionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am so ready for NM, im so ready to stop having this ucky fog hanging over my head, &lt;br /&gt;if anyone doesnt want to be a part of my life its honestly there loss, im not going to lose sleep over things i cant control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; i still feel so lucky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe its not my weekend but its gonna be my year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2573202275921369580?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2573202275921369580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/forget-everything-you-think-you-know.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2573202275921369580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2573202275921369580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/12/forget-everything-you-think-you-know.html' title='Forget everything you think you know about me, this isnt high school this isnt high school'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4560036019642337333</id><published>2009-11-26T01:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T01:42:44.044-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thxgiving this year</title><content type='html'>I havent been on a real computer in a while which is why i havent posted anything new for a while. for the most part ive been pretty up beat lately id say. ive gotten half the piercings i want, i got a phoney,and other then that ive just been working a lot of 10 hour days keeping myself busy and time seems to be flying by once its in my review mirror of my invisible car of course! i get to see kaela in a month and i am so very stoked, not for a second does my mind wander far from that. The things that i am thankful for this year are seem to be such a stretch from what i would of put on a list last year had i made one, but i do have a few things that i am thankful for this year....1) kaela. she has become such a big part of my life, my every day, my dreams and even my future.2) my job, that has given me money for other thigs i am thankful for like like my phoney, facial holes and money to actually go to nm soon! 3) is my mom  because even though i dont like it her id be sleeping on the street somewhere probably. and lastly 4) i am thankful for all the bullshit ive gottwn this year, its really made everything.  i feel different all over again, in someways almost new. ive been pretty optimistic with the odds ive got.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4560036019642337333?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4560036019642337333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/thxgiving-this-year.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4560036019642337333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4560036019642337333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/thxgiving-this-year.html' title='Thxgiving this year'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3293074046197174413</id><published>2009-11-14T15:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T15:30:23.087-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Every action is made from two things, Fear or Love.</title><content type='html'>There are billions people who walk this earth living similarly parallel lives to mine every single day and we all live secret quite lives of desperation. I can tell you that there’s more telling in the reason behind a lie than you will find in the truth.  So why do we do it? Why can’t we be honest? Because we’re afraid to have our cake and eat it too; because in reality getting what we really want would mean that our everyday normal day would inevitably change. Everyone would see that we are not the perfect person that we portray to be every single fucking day or even the person they thought we were at all. Life is give and take, and to every action there is an equal counter weight. Someone dies, there’s always someone born again and so on and so forth these are things we all know in the back of our mind somewhere it is imprinted next to the golden rule, and I don’t believe that, in being perfect, I believe the people perceived as perfect in another’s eyes are the truly desperate people.  They are someone who would give anything not to walk the perfect straight line in their own shoes; I know what it’s like to walk in those shoes. I can watch in my mind’s eye how everything fell a part and unfolded in to my life now, how in my perfect shoes I started to trip and stumble until they wore there self’s off of me,  How I started doing anything to feel again, to feel alive feel anything but that perfect desperate numbness. I never knew who I wasn’t until I felt the cement cutting up my bare feet.&lt;br /&gt;My whole life, each chapter of it so far has been about someone else. I was born a people pleaser; and I can say anything with a pen but I lack the ability to let my voice be heard. I want to make everybody happy like they have never been before, as long as they will let me because that is what it is with me, the lack of self value. The way I prefer that people leave me, because I would never have the strength to move on with my life over wise, somehow I can justify to myself that, if someone else walks out of my life its okay because I will live, but if I leave I wouldn’t know how the story ended. &lt;br /&gt;I am 19 years old and I don’t know the person I was even two years ago. I have changed a lot over the years, most people have just seen it through my physical appearances, but my insides have done 180s as well. I used to be perfect, the apple of someone’s eye, but eventually I got rotten, but that shit happens with fruit. When I think about that girl I used to be, I don’t feel like I was ever really honestly “me.” Everything I did was because someone else wanted me to do it, because it would make someone more important to me then myself happy, because there happiness was in the end more important to me then my own that I could justify all of the things I gave up to do it. There used to be a time when nothing could make me feel like I was happy like making someone else happy, and I can still feel the way that swells today, but it’s a temporary fix to a lifelong problem and in the end it only makes me miserable and more alone when no one comes around. I’ve probably never been more honest with who I really am and what I really want in my whole life then I am at this moment. I’ve lost a lot of things along the way admitting what I really want, but in the end I think once I can be honest with myself I can be solitarily happy on my own, I don’t live a life of desperation. I don’t settle for anything if it’s not really what I want. My life is the way it is now because of that, this is my normal every day, and I am still a person walking a parallel life to yours, and one day I will lose myself again I’m sure but I’m holding on tight to right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3293074046197174413?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3293074046197174413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/every-action-is-made-from-two-things.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3293074046197174413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3293074046197174413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/every-action-is-made-from-two-things.html' title='Every action is made from two things, Fear or Love.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7809533518860890227</id><published>2009-11-13T02:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T15:31:41.767-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it rhymes but makes no sense</title><content type='html'>Lately im at odds, i feel so unbalenced/ situations riding on a teeder todder/its like im being showed up by midgets with there tall talents/and ive got tall tales/I've swam in the ocean so I've swam with whales, and sharks, rotting ship junk and boddies of bones/ Theres always someone better and theres always some one worse/ but i dont seem to be noticed and its the only bit that hurts/ Its doing your job and taking home your work/ its dreaming of this shit, its a hypocrite in church/its holding on to something that had no problem leaving you behind just so youll be waiting when they come back into your life/They say time is telling and all will be revealed/but theres no answer to the question or words for how i feel/Im a stranger in my own skin/ the things i want cease to co exist/ i dont want my past to be my present but id like partsof what it was to be apart of it/I'm buying my time but the time I'm keeping track of is paying me/ Im getting out of this town/ i want to be better keep happiness more efficiently/i must be doing something wrong its obvious the problems me/ i dont know how to change this robots default setting/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7809533518860890227?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7809533518860890227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-rhymes-but-makes-no-sense.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7809533518860890227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7809533518860890227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-rhymes-but-makes-no-sense.html' title='it rhymes but makes no sense'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5501695044295028056</id><published>2009-11-05T14:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:15:29.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Theres something in the air and I'm finding it hard to breathe.</title><content type='html'>I’ve been listening to “Taking Back Sunday” a lot lately, Songs I never got before seem to make perfect sense now. Every time I listen to them I think of the feud they had with Jesse Lacy, and why he left, and sometimes I wonder what their music would sound like now with him still in there band, but then again, fate, right? I mean if that never happened then my favorite band wouldn’t exist. It is just another one of those things that had to happen, think of all the amazing songs that came out of it, like the song, There’s no I in team, when I could sympathize with the Seventy Times 7 song, that song had a totally different meaning to me, but now that a lot has changed in my life the song “There’s no I in team” has a whole new meaning to me, especially the part where he says “best friends means you get what you deserve.” Before I always took it as a Karma like thing, but now, “best friends means you get what you deserve.” Makes me think; Jesse deserved more, not Jesse deserves to have his world fucked up, but it had to happen for the real stuff to happen. I don’t know why thinking about those two bands always makes me think of My Jesse  as well and what happened, but since recently we are cool again and maybe that is why I have a different perspective, I don’t know, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.&lt;br /&gt;Everything is at odd stages, like everything is hovering before it falls; it’s too quite to be comfortable, I’m too unsure to be sure about anything. I’ve been at my mom’s now nearly two months and in a lot of ways I feel like I’m starting over all over again, because I lost something very important to me, that even if one day gets fixed will never  be the same, and nothing can take back all the damage that has been done. I feel like a stranger in my own skin, I look in the face and I see the same ole familiar face, though its changed through the years, it has always stayed the same to me, but I don’t recognize these thoughts that keep wandering through my head. I feel like who I am has been altered all over again and I just want to go back to the girl I was 8 months ago cause I don’t know who she is anymore just like that girl didn’t know who she was a year before that.  This keeps happening to me and it makes me wonder if anyone else feels the way I do, or thinks about any of the crazy shit that I spend my days wondering about. Things I carry around weighing down my insides until somehow words come and release these odd fucking things. I feel like I am about to explode if I don’t get to sit down and write something soon, but I have been too busy to even pick up a pen lately, even keeping up on letters is getting tough. I really like my new job but having both of these jobs is wearing on me, every day I wake up shower, clean, finish getting ready, make dinner before work, and then work until 11 and by the time I get home I am spent and pass out, and I wake up the next day and do it all over again, I hate that part, but I am still very satisfied and wouldn’t have it any other way.  I think of my life a lot like what I was talking about up top with Jesse Lacy’, I feel like I’ve been alive for 19 years now and I have yet to really live for more than a few moments.&lt;br /&gt;I know this is a weird sort of update blog, all I can really say is that I got a second job a few weeks ago and I have a lot of time to think at work which is where all of this is coming from. I’m feeling isolated again, just not from public this time, but from where I would rather be. I’ve been in a odd fucking mood lately that makes me want to throw the rest of what I have so it can catch up to everything else on its way down, and things are actually as good as they could be at this point in my life, I guess I am just really fucking ungrateful, but I’m not, I’m just not happy… yet. &lt;br /&gt;I guess this sort of nostalgia is supposed to happen at the end of the year; I’m just really missing everything about my life 8 months ago. I had all of this time in front of me, and thinking about the way all of this time I was so excited about has turned out makes me sick. I miss seeing my prince all of the time more than anything, but I miss the other little things to that I used to have. I don’t have anything I had 8 months ago really and it makes me sad. Isn’t that the way life is though, constantly missing the way things were and eventually the present becomes the past and you don’t even realize what you had until you’re missing it too. Humans are so fucked up, indecisive, and ungrateful. I will show you what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;1] I still very much have my prince, I mean she might not have the time of day for me much anymore, but I never lost her and she still very much means the world to me, and she tries more than most people still.&lt;br /&gt;2] I knew kaela 8 months ago barely, but I’m trying to keep one of the best things about my life right now out of this.&lt;br /&gt;3] Something my mom said the other day to my grams has sort of been bugging me, because I can sit here and say honestly that people do care about me, but like my mom said; everyone I talk to anymore is pretty much out of state, and that’s not right.&lt;br /&gt;4] I have everything that I wanted to have after getting kicked out now and I’m still not happy with it, I just want to be 4 or so months from now, and half the time with all of this shit being put in my head, I don’t know exactly where I will be in 4 months. I know where I want to be, and it wouldn’t matter where on this earth I ended up as long as I was with them, but still I can’t help but wonder now, well what if I stay a little longer? But I can’t do that because I can’t go back on my word and if I was honest with myself I would just admit that I’m still fucking scared out of my mind, but I still want to. Every 1 more day I spend in MI is another day I would have been in MI.&lt;br /&gt;See I’m indecisive, because I want two different things that can’t co-exist, staying longer, and leaving on time. I’m ungrateful because I am lucky as shit to have another job now, but it still doesn’t make me happy and I’m probably ungrateful for my prince as well because I bitch so much about not seeing her but she has never turned her back on my like a lot of other people, and I know no matter how caught up she gets in a boy she will never completely forget about or turn her back on me, and all of this makes me fucked up. I’m such a fucking asshole, and this was a very lame blog for an update, but the truth is I really don’t have an update, I just feel a lot about too many things and it gives me this lump in my throat that I can’t get down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5501695044295028056?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5501695044295028056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/theres-something-in-air-and-im-finding.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5501695044295028056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5501695044295028056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/11/theres-something-in-air-and-im-finding.html' title='Theres something in the air and I&apos;m finding it hard to breathe.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-2759131187022601222</id><published>2009-10-21T11:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T11:22:02.753-04:00</updated><title type='text'>These days.</title><content type='html'>Medicated pills are costly bills,&lt;br /&gt;Ghastly dreams of wires and drills,&lt;br /&gt;Dull surroundings though kaleidoscope eyes,&lt;br /&gt;Prevail this sickness; and well no one dies.&lt;br /&gt;Clammy skin, Ice cold, kid you’re burning up.&lt;br /&gt;Tell me something I don’t know doctor?&lt;br /&gt;I don’t even have a doctor, my insurance has expired,&lt;br /&gt;Now I’m just having hallucinations of mere desires,&lt;br /&gt;I don’t have any pills to make this stop,&lt;br /&gt;No magic to turn this snot factory off.&lt;br /&gt;The ground is hard and blankets keep me cold,&lt;br /&gt;I have these stuffed animals but there’s no place like home.&lt;br /&gt;Patiently waiting this out, impatiently I toss and turn,&lt;br /&gt;I guess there’s no way to cuddle rock like ice can burn,&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are red, my throat itches deep,&lt;br /&gt;If I run when I stand up that dizzy spell won’t have a chance to catch me,&lt;br /&gt;Cause I’m feeling that word vomit coming,&lt;br /&gt;No, real vomit, shards and shards of my tummy,&lt;br /&gt;Bent over this porcelain and its Just one of those moments you wondered what I was up to these days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-2759131187022601222?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/2759131187022601222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/10/these-days.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2759131187022601222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/2759131187022601222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/10/these-days.html' title='These days.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-531145160955608646</id><published>2009-10-16T13:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T13:58:01.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Its been a while?</title><content type='html'>Yes,I think so. &lt;br /&gt;I've been at my moms for nearly a month now in a day or two and things are, well I dont want to phrase it as getting to normal because nothing about anything about being there is normal at all, but I do what I can to get by and pass the time and I'm pretty sure I'm closing in on a second job soon.&lt;br /&gt;I spend a lot of my time cleaning an apartment that gets dirty just as fast as I clean it, living with two people that, I wont say cant, but WILL NOT pick up after there selfs sucks, but cleaning is a part of my job, I'm just getting the shorter end of the stick on this one.&lt;br /&gt;I spend the rest of my time getting by, Watching movies that have been out for years that I just have not seen, reading books other people recomind because I have a problem of picking out any on my own to read, and writing a lot, unfortunenly I havent written anything worth putting on here and most of the time they are just letters to the few people who even give two fucks about me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I dont know where my prince is these days and I'm honestly really sad that she seems to forget about me so easily but at the same time, It pisses me off, crazy thing love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned long ago you cant make anyone do what you want them to do, so it just leaves me here stuck and sad because I dont know what to do about this girl who means so much to me who is just to caught up in her own things to be around when I never have needed her more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately certain things have been sticking out to be like the quote "If you love something give it away, and I'm not sure how it makes me feel at the moment, or what exactly it means to me right now, and also this stupid bird thesis of sorts that has sort of fallen together on its own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told kaela that I would never want to be a caged bird because they do the same nothing thing every fucking day for there whole lifes, but then I realized that even if I was a "free" bird I would still be in a cage, just a bigger one, and now I have just finished reading "the time traveler's wife" which was a great book but I cant stop thinking about what they were saying about everyone having free will, and a life of free will is in the end Chaios.&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, There is something of merit there but I think something is missing that hasnt really fallen in to place for me yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I have to leave, I will try to write again soon, I had no idea I had so much to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-531145160955608646?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/531145160955608646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/10/its-been-while.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/531145160955608646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/531145160955608646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/10/its-been-while.html' title='Its been a while?'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4414886972509781608</id><published>2009-09-17T15:13:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T15:22:41.915-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You make it hard to smile because you make it hard to breathe, why do you do this to me?</title><content type='html'>Today is offically my last day of having internets. All I can do now is work and save and get by until I can move out to NM. The other day was lover six months. It has gone by to fast I think, but at the same time it seems like I have known her so much longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKK_f3QoII/AAAAAAAAAJY/nmWyz0Z0dQo/s1600-h/lover6months..jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKK_f3QoII/AAAAAAAAAJY/nmWyz0Z0dQo/s400/lover6months..jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382517328150831234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is so beautiful and I am so lucky to have her in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I said I would probably post a few blogs the other day and I didnt because I decided to do other things like dating sarah and then finally getting to talk to anna a bit and then the rest of the night dating with kaela kins.&lt;br /&gt;these are some of the photos I took.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKLyFjsfzI/AAAAAAAAAJw/niKafut-S6g/s1600-h/smilebright.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKLyFjsfzI/AAAAAAAAAJw/niKafut-S6g/s400/smilebright.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382518197262778162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKLxvUYU4I/AAAAAAAAAJo/1kR-4iaFVzg/s1600-h/gawgeous.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKLxvUYU4I/AAAAAAAAAJo/1kR-4iaFVzg/s400/gawgeous.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382518191292961666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKLw5sQ2kI/AAAAAAAAAJg/O_sYpG15jwc/s1600-h/dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKLw5sQ2kI/AAAAAAAAAJg/O_sYpG15jwc/s400/dress.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382518176897620546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot on my mind that I am not really ready to share yet. Maybe once I am at my moms and I camn think clearer I will type something worth something.&lt;br /&gt;I am not going to miss living here, I'm only going to miss talking to kaela, emily, anna, sarah, and kody, plus the occasional other people.  Hopefully I will get lucky enough to get another job soon, that would make me feel so great, you have no idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4414886972509781608?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4414886972509781608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-make-it-hard-to-smile-because-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4414886972509781608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4414886972509781608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-make-it-hard-to-smile-because-you.html' title='You make it hard to smile because you make it hard to breathe, why do you do this to me?'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SrKK_f3QoII/AAAAAAAAAJY/nmWyz0Z0dQo/s72-c/lover6months..jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-9047955690891388867</id><published>2009-09-15T04:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T04:58:29.265-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year, New Me.</title><content type='html'>Today I am 19. only 364 more days left of being a teenager, and I have a lot to do. I'm almost done packing everything and right now it's just sort of working everything out so I am out of here with no time to spare, and trying to fit in dates with my girl things before I leave, and not just sitting around waiting for them to get online at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was out again on another job hunt. Hopefully I will get lucky soon because I really need another job. I was really smily even though I was going on no sleep bustin my bum. It was worth it, it will all be worth it, I know it.&lt;br /&gt;Things just feel good.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I actually have a prince right now even though I am not sure at all if I will ever see her cute face soon, but I will take what I can get.&lt;br /&gt;and Kaela always gives me a reason to smile, I wish I could be lurking somewhere and watch her open her care package when she gets it.&lt;br /&gt;Today I will probably post a few blog, I am taking dress photos for kaela. and then we are dating and also I have been working on some sort of a 19 writing thing or something. So many things.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not doing anything today at all to celebrate my birthday but today is also LOVER SIX MONTHS!!&lt;br /&gt;so amazing and I am going to celebrate that wiht a cam date lover style :)&lt;br /&gt;hopefully it will all work out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-9047955690891388867?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/9047955690891388867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-year-new-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/9047955690891388867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/9047955690891388867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-year-new-me.html' title='New Year, New Me.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1708352644173327225</id><published>2009-09-13T06:12:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T04:49:02.908-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I dont know what happend in the last 24 hours.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqzFwykyglI/AAAAAAAAAJI/t23QySO5WrY/s1600-h/up.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 234px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqzFwykyglI/AAAAAAAAAJI/t23QySO5WrY/s400/up.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380893096801370706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel this weight on my shoulders shifting,&lt;br /&gt;I feel this dirt getting more meager under me,&lt;br /&gt;I feel the stretched muscle in my legs and arms,&lt;br /&gt;I feel like nothing can stop me from getting up right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqzGg7Ihn7I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/oaJlmtOQV0o/s1600-h/princess.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqzGg7Ihn7I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/oaJlmtOQV0o/s400/princess.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380893923732463538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1708352644173327225?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1708352644173327225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-dont-know-what-happend-in-last-24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1708352644173327225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1708352644173327225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-dont-know-what-happend-in-last-24.html' title='I dont know what happend in the last 24 hours.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqzFwykyglI/AAAAAAAAAJI/t23QySO5WrY/s72-c/up.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-766821645850669608</id><published>2009-09-11T03:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T03:18:34.098-04:00</updated><title type='text'>&lt;3</title><content type='html'>"What do I look like? The wizard of OZ? You need a brain? You need a heart? Go ahead. Take mine. Take everything I have."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-766821645850669608?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/766821645850669608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/766821645850669608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/766821645850669608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/3.html' title='&lt;3'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6454296301504521556</id><published>2009-09-10T06:30:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T06:50:41.981-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you say to that?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqjVbBer_QI/AAAAAAAAAJA/oDRS2hP28Eo/s1600-h/thought..jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqjVbBer_QI/AAAAAAAAAJA/oDRS2hP28Eo/s400/thought..jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379784415124389122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel torn and unsure determined yet sympathetic. My mind is nowhere to be found tonight, if that is even possible. So much thinking...and not thinking happening all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;A week from today I will pretty much be homeless, claiming this one yet a guest in another, that sort of sums up my state of mind and being perfectly. I feel almost as if I'm having a outer body experience these days. I am here physically but emotionally and mentally I am lost in other places. I'm distant, more then I have ever been. My smile is forced and something I have to remind myself to do when being spoken to. I feel fake, all I really want to do is be alone, all I really need is time to make sence of this.&lt;br /&gt;I’m letting myself break, I'm letting things fall, I'm waiting to feel this backlash.&lt;br /&gt;Life seems pointless.&lt;br /&gt;The things you try and try to hold on to always fall between your fingers and the things you try and try to rid always stay. Why is life hard? Why do we have to hurt to get stronger? Is it really “stronger” we are getting? or just numb, like a robot.&lt;br /&gt;I feel so distant. My head is a mixture of a million thoughts and feelings like a jigsaw puzzle I can’t figure out.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6454296301504521556?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6454296301504521556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-do-you-say-to-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6454296301504521556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6454296301504521556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-do-you-say-to-that.html' title='What do you say to that?'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SqjVbBer_QI/AAAAAAAAAJA/oDRS2hP28Eo/s72-c/thought..jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3176633495692779807</id><published>2009-09-09T05:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T05:37:54.720-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Times Are Changing.</title><content type='html'>my head is spinning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm running out of time with each breath I take I cant delay the inevitable. I know nothing is going to work out the way I want it to, but I know if I dont stop trying that it will eventually work some how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont like being this unsure of so many things.&lt;br /&gt;My head is lost in a million different thoughts tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3176633495692779807?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3176633495692779807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/times-are-changing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3176633495692779807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3176633495692779807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/times-are-changing.html' title='Times Are Changing.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5153193815381696219</id><published>2009-09-04T21:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T21:33:48.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ever since you've left theres been an open hole in my chest.</title><content type='html'>This is hard.&lt;br /&gt;And time has only shown it’s never going to get any easier.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t like this distance.&lt;br /&gt; I can’t read your body for signs your fingers can’t engrave.&lt;br /&gt;Seems like we’re stuck, in this rut I don’t know how we got here in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;So we just keep going, time pushing our past further away.&lt;br /&gt;We keep going right? Yeah, separate ways. &lt;br /&gt;It doesn’t seem fair &lt;br /&gt;Our futures always in our way&lt;br /&gt;What we had was good right?&lt;br /&gt;It can’t be replaced.&lt;br /&gt;I’m just missing those old times,&lt;br /&gt;The way the moon lit up your face.&lt;br /&gt;You’ll always be mine right?&lt;br /&gt;You’re empty words don’t seem to fill up this empty space.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5153193815381696219?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5153193815381696219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/ever-since-youve-left-theres-been-open.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5153193815381696219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5153193815381696219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/ever-since-youve-left-theres-been-open.html' title='Ever since you&apos;ve left theres been an open hole in my chest.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-8371279353496970961</id><published>2009-09-03T03:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T03:48:59.381-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why is everything so different now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/Sp9xcO0pIaI/AAAAAAAAAI4/mMebehzJZ_A/s1600-h/9.3.09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/Sp9xcO0pIaI/AAAAAAAAAI4/mMebehzJZ_A/s320/9.3.09.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377141209932833186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things arent really looking up, but things arent really getting worse either. Everything about right now has me feeling rather insignificant and uninspired. I need something to work.&lt;br /&gt;I'll be 19 soon, really soon. I've been thinking about where I was last year at this time. and even though I really have nothing to show for myself of this past year since everything I had grasped has somehow slipped threw my fingers, I still feel like so much has happened and I've grown up leaps and bounds that thinking about how imature and just ignorant to LIFE that I used to be makes me feel all wierd.&lt;br /&gt;I know when I am sitting where ever I am sitting a year from now thinking about this year to come, how it was. Most of the things I will find will be physical.&lt;br /&gt;Like moving, and doing things on my own.&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if I will be happy, or if I am even doing the right thing, but I got to believe that there is a reason all of these things have happened. I know that if I stay here nothing will ever change. I know that as the time get closer hopefully I will find myself more confident in my choice, but that is never going to make it any easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the way things used to be..some things.&lt;br /&gt;and I crave the way things will be..some things.&lt;br /&gt;I know I cant have both.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-8371279353496970961?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/8371279353496970961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-is-everything-so-different-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8371279353496970961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/8371279353496970961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-is-everything-so-different-now.html' title='Why is everything so different now?'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/Sp9xcO0pIaI/AAAAAAAAAI4/mMebehzJZ_A/s72-c/9.3.09.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-5176489422228499319</id><published>2009-08-30T20:49:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T21:10:12.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is life..I'm tired of life.</title><content type='html'>So I havent written in here in a few days, and I'm sitting here, and I am amazingly on new levels of boredom. I know that I should be writing in here every second that I can because  soon enough I wont be able to anymore, but it seems like I would just keep saying the same things over and again and besides wasting a little bit more of my life, would render useless.&lt;br /&gt;This weeeeeekend has dragged on, as well as the last part of this past week. Tomorrow all I can really do is call places and ask them to hire me :P and that is what I will do. It will take probably a whole 10 minutes and the the rest of the day..Who knows. I feel like I'm just buying my time right now, and I feel stuck, and then once the 3rd gets here my last week and a half is going to fly by and I know it.&lt;br /&gt;I hateeeeeeeeeeee sitting here so much right now, talking to no one. Emily is even online and we havent talked in days but I guess that ceases to matter, and kaela is busy, so busy lately, but its good at least when I'm not around to bug her anymore she wont have all this free time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could come up with a single word right now to discribe my state of being not so much my mood or placement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldnt sleep last night, I can never sleep anymore unless I am dog tired and when I'm not doing anything all day it takes a while for me to get seriously dog tired. Last night I was up and to my surperise Lyndz started talking to me, and even though now everything is cleared up, just some of the things she said are still sort of sticking to me and I'm not sure if she is even a little bit right.&lt;br /&gt;I mean before, I didnt even consider that I was running away from my problems.&lt;br /&gt;but am I? I dont really see what I have to run away from.&lt;br /&gt;but one part she was dead right on is that I do rely on Kaela and Emily to make me happy, they are pretty much the only two good things in my life, and if it wasnt them right now it would honestly just be someone else. I need people to make me happy and relying on anyone that much will always make miserable, and I cant change that.&lt;br /&gt;I just...I dunno...that conversation has stuck with me like walking around surrounded by this fog.&lt;br /&gt;I want to find my own happiness, and I dont think that I will find it staying here, waiting on everyone who "loves" me to find the time in there lifes to see me. That doesnt make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just I dont know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-5176489422228499319?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/5176489422228499319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-is-lifeim-tired-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5176489422228499319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/5176489422228499319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-is-lifeim-tired-of-life.html' title='What is life..I&apos;m tired of life.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7350558597356464858</id><published>2009-08-25T19:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T19:49:45.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Futures near but never certain.</title><content type='html'>Today has been pulling at my heart strings and poking at my tear ducts. Life is so bitter. I want to run away from everyone and everything I know right now, then maybe I could be at rest with feeling this alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7350558597356464858?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7350558597356464858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/futures-near-but-never-certain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7350558597356464858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7350558597356464858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/futures-near-but-never-certain.html' title='The Futures near but never certain.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7728576321494953718</id><published>2009-08-22T18:25:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:48:43.762-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Some sort of Game plan?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SpBw91yq9dI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ctuOB0cqxUo/s1600-h/gameplan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SpBw91yq9dI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ctuOB0cqxUo/s320/gameplan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372918563166942674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is saturday and I have done absolutly nothing today, there is nothing to do really but kill time until monday.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I went job hunting and monday hopefully I will be able to get out and do some more and hopefully kaela will have internets by then because I am dying not being able to talk to her right now.&lt;br /&gt;I really need another job. The guy at RiteAid seemed to like me, so hopefully I can get a job there, that is pretty much what my heart is set on right now since it will be close to my moms and I can  walk there and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These next few months are going to be rough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7728576321494953718?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7728576321494953718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/some-sort-of-game-plan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7728576321494953718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7728576321494953718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/some-sort-of-game-plan.html' title='Some sort of Game plan?'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SpBw91yq9dI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ctuOB0cqxUo/s72-c/gameplan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3820015630540279507</id><published>2009-08-20T20:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T20:30:10.463-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One day...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TKreAjL0sGI&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;hl=en&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TKreAjL0sGI&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;hl=en&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarah just made my whole life I think. I feel so special right now.&lt;br /&gt;These past few days have been rough. I've been doing a lot of crying and thinking..and crying,  but right now..I'm good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not the type of girl to sit around and mope. I need to figure out What I'm going to do..where I'm going to go as fast as I can so I can start working toward it, and I figured it out I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its going to be hard, but seeing kaela's face everyday will be the best feeling I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wont have internet for a while after my birthday, so I probably wont be writing in this much at all. I will try to though when I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***deeeep breath***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****EXHALEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3820015630540279507?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3820015630540279507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3820015630540279507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3820015630540279507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-day.html' title='One day...'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3820405051701464731</id><published>2009-08-18T20:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T20:16:16.854-04:00</updated><title type='text'>happy brithday.</title><content type='html'>get the fuck out of my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what did I ever do that was so wrong?&lt;br /&gt;why is everything always shit for me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3820405051701464731?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3820405051701464731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/happy-brithday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3820405051701464731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3820405051701464731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/happy-brithday.html' title='happy brithday.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3370828102146309433</id><published>2009-08-18T18:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T18:39:17.004-04:00</updated><title type='text'>God; I needed to see that boy.</title><content type='html'>It is funny how you can get one thing accomplished and suddenly it feels like the weight of the world is off your shoulders. As of today I am going to college in the fall. Today I went down and signed up for my classes, and even without any photography ones I still am very pleased with what I have, besides this way hopefully I can save up money and be even better prepared for next semester instead of always stressing about how I'm going to get whatever.  &lt;br /&gt;I have this fafsa thing here I'm going to fill out that will give me more college monies in about a month or so, and my lab fees will be a lot less with only my drawing class. So that is good. hopefully i can start saving some monies. for seeing kaela during christmas and spring break....................and i still really want my chest piece that has been getting back burnered for the past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I will have college and hanging out with kody a couple times a week.&lt;br /&gt;ohhh yeah I saw kody today. he probably made my day. silly boy thing.&lt;br /&gt;and then hopefully I can arrange things with aixa and tasa and see them as well so I will see some people.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really up for making new friends..not that I'm going to avoide it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today has been a good day.&lt;br /&gt;when I woke up I just wanted to roll over and do this another day but I'm glad I got out of bed. Today was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and Kaela got back in newwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwmexico today so webdates will become a thing of the very often and I'm pretty stoked about that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3370828102146309433?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3370828102146309433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/god-i-needed-to-see-that-boy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3370828102146309433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3370828102146309433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/god-i-needed-to-see-that-boy.html' title='God; I needed to see that boy.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-1054863355663839128</id><published>2009-08-16T22:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T23:08:54.935-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dont tell her why..</title><content type='html'>Today has been one of those really long boring pointless got nothing acomplished talk to no one kind of days.&lt;br /&gt;Earlier I told myself that I wasnt going to write in here today but I feel like I need to. Since I have had 3 very important conversations since I wrote last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First was kaela. She always has a cute way of making me feel better, and then later last night probably the most benificial one was sarah. I didnt want to date her bacause I was in a horrible mood but I'm really glad that I did. I had to catch her up on CA, and Kaela's visit and then on everything else and why I was feeling the way I was, and some how that lead in to talking about college. Which was good, and i need to get down there tomorrow would be ideal. but I think I'm going to see about it tuesday morning. Tomorrow I'm going to call the facts people and see if I can get that taken care of before I sign up for classes they will drop me from for not doing facts within the first 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then tonight I talk to emily, which in a way has been the person I've wanted to talk to all along and at the same time  I sort of didnt feel ready to talk to her, but after talking to her I always feel better and I do sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every since kaela has left, I've just been in this really weird mood. I realized a lot while she was here, well after she left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not happy right now, and I dunno how to change this situation I'm in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont see anyone.&lt;br /&gt;I dont talk to anyone.&lt;br /&gt;The two people I talk to the most live a few hundred thousand miles away.&lt;br /&gt;It's bullshit I havent seen anyone in the last 4 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and with emily there is this fine line..I know i shouldnt depend on seeing her so much, its not fair to be mad at only her for not seeing me. which I'm not only mad at her. I'm mostly mad at the situation, but I know that even if I got to see her alone that would be enough.&lt;br /&gt;We had a really good talk tonight. That is one thing I've always loved about our relationship is that we can always tell each other how we feel and be totally honest and not have to worry about hurting the other persons feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love emily more then most things. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this  was sort of vauge but i...i dunno.&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling a lot right now.&lt;br /&gt;that I'm sitting with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-1054863355663839128?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/1054863355663839128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/dont-tell-her-why.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1054863355663839128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/1054863355663839128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/dont-tell-her-why.html' title='Dont tell her why..'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-161972255936340135</id><published>2009-08-15T20:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T20:15:18.255-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm sad..and I'm angry.</title><content type='html'>I had such an amazing time while kaela was here, and ever since she has gone home I have had this lump in my throat and knot in my stomach because seeing her hasmade me realize one thing more then anything else and that is how fucking pathetic my life has been. I havent seen not a one person out side of family in nearly 4 months. Kaela usually is nearly 300,000 miles away and still found a way to see me. I'm just really upset right now. I cannot stop crying and I feel like I have no friends at all, and the people that do call me there friend have a lot of balls. I'm angry that no one ever wants to see me and I have to spend everyday alone, by myself. It's not fun and its so hard and the only thing that ever really gets me through is knowing that I will see kaela or emily again but the truth is I havent seen emily in nearly 4 fucking months and I dunno when I will ever see her again. I feel like she doesnt have time for me anymore or when she does shed obviouslly be spending it with two other people. I am looking forward to seeing kaela around christmas but I'm not looking forward to the part that I'm afraid of...that I will spend each day alone and see no one until I see her again. I dont know weather to scream or to cry. I need change in my life. I need to see really people. I cant have my only real contacts be 2 girls that live hundreds of thousands of miles away and see no one in real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-161972255936340135?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/161972255936340135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-sadand-im-angry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/161972255936340135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/161972255936340135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-sadand-im-angry.html' title='I&apos;m sad..and I&apos;m angry.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7756438001972719316</id><published>2009-08-14T18:35:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T19:04:59.902-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Today is the farthest day I have from seeing you next.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoXowbI_kII/AAAAAAAAAIo/_ab3rnnUakg/s1600-h/mhmm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoXowbI_kII/AAAAAAAAAIo/_ab3rnnUakg/s320/mhmm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369954049326026882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoXowJrPIoI/AAAAAAAAAIg/ZHXgSW5-2AU/s1600-h/mmhmm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoXowJrPIoI/AAAAAAAAAIg/ZHXgSW5-2AU/s320/mmhmm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369954044637815426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I am sitting here and I'm sort of sad that kaela had to go home but at the same time I keep smiling rediculously because I got to see her and hold her and touch her cute face. I think that in a perfect would where we could be together all of the time, I would be the happiest kid in the world. I think their is something so special about this lovership we have formed that seeing her all of the time is the only nessisary thing, but on to the point of this blog, to tell you about my last few days.&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure my week, rocky though it started out will be better then the weekend all together even if I had plans. I've had the best time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up early wednesday morning to get ready to pick kaela up at noon! and as the time got closer the more my stomach started getting all knoted up, but then she was there and cute and I want to meet her in the skin all of the time.&lt;br /&gt;Then we went out for nomnoms with my grams before she dropped us off at my moms so I could do the work like thing. Then it was to the park with kaela and jacob. Then we came home and took photos lots of them. then she made me dinner it was good even though our gravy was a fail aahah it was more like milk. then we made a fire outside and a tent in my room.&lt;br /&gt;Waking up next to kaela is probably one of my favorite things.&lt;br /&gt;I found myself looking at her over and over again thinking "your really here"&lt;br /&gt;Then thursday was odd a bit. We had 3 dinners. went on a really long walk to see horses that werent even out, which led to awkward boyfriend calls. a picknic sort of and random lover cuddles. 5 month photos "my best friends girl" to a few hours of sleep and then to the bus station where i had to let her go home :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wait till the day we meet again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7756438001972719316?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7756438001972719316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/today-is-farthest-day-i-have-from.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7756438001972719316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7756438001972719316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/today-is-farthest-day-i-have-from.html' title='Today is the farthest day I have from seeing you next.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoXowbI_kII/AAAAAAAAAIo/_ab3rnnUakg/s72-c/mhmm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-6927355367820144760</id><published>2009-08-13T00:20:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T00:29:33.652-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IN THE SKIN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWhx9eDWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/cxeaD3KmN7A/s1600-h/46.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWhx9eDWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/cxeaD3KmN7A/s400/46.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369300687846772066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWhfHmCfI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9Fj_ld7lA2o/s1600-h/31.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 307px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWhfHmCfI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9Fj_ld7lA2o/s400/31.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369300682788964850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWgzBvMoI/AAAAAAAAAII/ud-RRLeMny0/s1600-h/18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWgzBvMoI/AAAAAAAAAII/ud-RRLeMny0/s400/18.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369300670953239170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWgZUwdRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/nNjYi6cSIgU/s1600-h/16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWgZUwdRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/nNjYi6cSIgU/s400/16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369300664053691666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWf3vZy3I/AAAAAAAAAH4/yhHVYEg_BVQ/s1600-h/12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWf3vZy3I/AAAAAAAAAH4/yhHVYEg_BVQ/s400/12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369300655038647154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the best day of my life possibly.&lt;br /&gt;kaela is wonderful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-6927355367820144760?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/6927355367820144760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/in-skin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6927355367820144760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/6927355367820144760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/in-skin.html' title='IN THE SKIN'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoOWhx9eDWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/cxeaD3KmN7A/s72-c/46.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-436454415581666661</id><published>2009-08-11T19:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T19:45:11.873-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing ever goes as planned.</title><content type='html'>Nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;So today I woke up and called my mom right away&lt;br /&gt;because she said shed take me to the bus place to day and&lt;br /&gt;to clean. So i call her...ring ring ring...blah blah blah...ill call you later//hangup.&lt;br /&gt;I was pissed.&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to emily and kaela at the same time about how pissed I was.&lt;br /&gt;Because after all.&lt;br /&gt;THIS WAS THE LAST DAY...the last CHANCE I had to see kaela.&lt;br /&gt;it was now or not for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;and i was pissed.&lt;br /&gt;but all in the end worked out.&lt;br /&gt;I went down stairs and told my grams what a cunt my mom was being.&lt;br /&gt;and I knew already she had a funeral dinner thingy and was leaving at 2.&lt;br /&gt;by this time it was around 1? or so i think.&lt;br /&gt;So my grams said she would take me but then looked at the time and she really didnt have time to take me then come bring me home.&lt;br /&gt;So I ran upstairs. Threw on church like clothes. without a shower I left with my grams.&lt;br /&gt;That shows you how much I love this girl and how much I HAVE to see her.&lt;br /&gt;So we go to the train place to get her ticket.&lt;br /&gt;Then I go help her at her lunch thingy. and now I am home.&lt;br /&gt;and tired.&lt;br /&gt;but realieved that everything worked out in the end.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow at noon. I will be picking up kaela.&lt;br /&gt;and my prince might stop by as well. &lt;br /&gt;I sure hope she can. Today was her first day of work and all. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-436454415581666661?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/436454415581666661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/nothing-ever-goes-as-planned.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/436454415581666661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/436454415581666661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/nothing-ever-goes-as-planned.html' title='Nothing ever goes as planned.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7466773447582055709</id><published>2009-08-10T18:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T18:33:08.658-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Everythings gonna be alright.</title><content type='html'>Everythings gonna be alright..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today has cleared a lot up for me and uncovered new problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I woke up today and called the grey hound people to buy kaelas ticket online.&lt;br /&gt;FAIL. but I found out why it wouldnt work for us last night;; because that ticket couldnt be put on will call. So the lady told me to go down to the local station and buy it that way...which I was already to do, but then I could not find my ID for the fucking life of me and then my mom called and said it was to hot and she wouldnt take me...just for a second even, and that she was coming out, so I had to look at her face all day. &lt;br /&gt;ughhhh but she said that tomorrow she wanted me to work and if she wants me to work the she WILL take me to that fucking bus station. I will die if I dont get to see kaela even if its just for a day...like it will be now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College. I WILL BE GOING TO COLLEGE. I found that out today. So I've been online all day trying to sign up for classes. First problem...they dont offer Phil at any time that I can take it. 2 problem...every class I want to take in its place...is during the two classes I WILL NOT CHANGE. SO then i got this brilliant idea that I could take Engl over because I need a higher grade in it anyway for it to transfer plus I already have the books for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to my thrid problem....grams just informed me that I have to pay for everything by myself..and I'm not going to have enough money so I'm not really sure what I'm going to do about that. I need another job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then my 4th problem. FACTS! I hate signing up for facts. I always have issues with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hopefully by tomorrow morning that will be all worked out. and I can sign up for classes after I get home from work after I get kaelas ticket so she can come!&lt;br /&gt;and then I just need to figure out how to get more money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gahhhhh&lt;br /&gt;wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today has been stressful for a girl that doesnt really stress about anything.&lt;br /&gt;Right now I wish today was over, and its only dinner time.&lt;br /&gt;I just finished doing dishes because I was that bored and now I'm listening to my mom and jacob yell at each other and the t.v. will continue to blare down stairs until they go home. &lt;br /&gt;Today is def a day where you just have to go through the motions.&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to seeing kaela for at least 1 whole day! and emily for a bit.&lt;br /&gt;I've missed my prince so very much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7466773447582055709?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7466773447582055709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/everythings-gonna-be-alright.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7466773447582055709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7466773447582055709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/everythings-gonna-be-alright.html' title='Everythings gonna be alright.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-4053835325993962652</id><published>2009-08-10T02:51:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T23:48:52.487-04:00</updated><title type='text'>UGHHHH!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoDqDGmYnrI/AAAAAAAAAHw/33kH-p0J2xw/s1600-h/phone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 270px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoDqDGmYnrI/AAAAAAAAAHw/33kH-p0J2xw/s400/phone.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368548094857748146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i took this earlier. when everything with the world was fine. I was also on the phone with a lover girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight is not my night in the least. I just found out that I might not be able to go to college in the fall and now I might not be able to see kaela because of stupid grey hound! Ughh I hate them. I didnt, but i do now. I NEEEEEED to see her before she goes back to NM.&lt;br /&gt;Gahhh talk about getting kicked in the back of the knee. Everything was so great and now everything is so messed up.&lt;br /&gt;I dont know what I'm going to do.&lt;br /&gt;If I cant go to college then I will be getting another job asap. like I already planned but now I will work more, then hopefully I will go in the spring?&lt;br /&gt;I dunno what I'm going to do right now.&lt;br /&gt;I am real upset. mostly because I might not get to see kaela.&lt;br /&gt;College as much as I want to go. I dont have money for books, so that would be something I dont have to worry about, but I really need to go because I need to see my prince only all of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ughhhhh&lt;br /&gt;FML&lt;br /&gt;Usually I dont stress but tonight I am very stressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grrr grey hound :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-4053835325993962652?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/4053835325993962652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/ughhhh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4053835325993962652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/4053835325993962652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/ughhhh.html' title='UGHHHH!'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoDqDGmYnrI/AAAAAAAAAHw/33kH-p0J2xw/s72-c/phone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-3587957330072204225</id><published>2009-08-08T20:34:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T20:56:23.698-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby it's fact.</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;well our love is true&lt;br /&gt;the way black is black&lt;br /&gt;and blue is as blue.&lt;br /&gt;My love is true.&lt;br /&gt;its a matter of fact.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm sort of bored at the moment, just sitting here so I figured it was ample opportunity to write here in my little blog thing.&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've been really wanting to write something but it seems I cant get out the words and they are rather just clogging up my veins. I'm not sure how I feel right now, in time I will.&lt;br /&gt;Lately my life has consisted of work and silly lover texts before bed. I have been smiling so much lately, so much more than I deserve to. Kaela will be here in a couple of days, before I didnt feel nervous at all, but now I can feel my heart beat getting stronger as that moment gets closer and I know that soon enough I will be able to hear my heart beating in my ears. It will be quite the rush. I cant wait to meet her in the skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like these past few weeks I've been getting by on less and less, and usually this would bother me, but right now I am content, and I feel like I have more then I have had all along. I can honestly sit here right now and say that I am happy, sure I am worried about a lot of things and how they are going to work out, but I am a happy girl. I know that what is meant to be will ALWAYS be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/Sn4ZuRDcT7I/AAAAAAAAAHA/aH5wkbgT5kc/s1600-h/love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/Sn4ZuRDcT7I/AAAAAAAAAHA/aH5wkbgT5kc/s400/love.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367756088514727858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-3587957330072204225?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/3587957330072204225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/baby-its-fact.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3587957330072204225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/3587957330072204225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/baby-its-fact.html' title='Baby it&apos;s fact.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/Sn4ZuRDcT7I/AAAAAAAAAHA/aH5wkbgT5kc/s72-c/love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7103963964214914151</id><published>2009-08-07T02:23:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T02:54:55.535-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready. Aim. Fire.</title><content type='html'>let the pieces land where they may.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvIhIYLHXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/DrFR0Td80Cg/s1600-h/heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvIhIYLHXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/DrFR0Td80Cg/s400/heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367103852452191602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooooooooooooooooooo. I am back from californicating. I've been back 2 whole days now, but Ive honestly just been to lazy/busy doing other things. Because yes I am back in MI but there is so much that I still needed to be taken care of and for now everything is good. Lover is coming on the 11 because she has to take a bus to me with a rediculously long rout. if only they know the quickest way to get here was straight to my heart.&lt;br /&gt;Hmm so before I tell you about my trip. I want to write about something else that I am really excited about. Emily got a job today! well actually yesterday being 8.6.09&lt;br /&gt;which hopefully means everything like. her staying home. going to college. and seeing me on regular basis. I couldnt be happier about that. I've missed my prince so fucking much this summer I dont know how I have survived 4 months with out her cute smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now everything is pench me if i say it "perfect" ish. everything is really great. like i said kaela is coming! that in it self is epic that i get to see her, since we have spent most of the summer doubting it would happen, or at least I have been, and now it is here and happening she is going to be here sitting next to me in count them 4 days!&lt;br /&gt;and hopefully I will be seeing my prince around that same day, and then like I said college starts back up on the 3rd so I seriously need to get my butt in gear and sign up for classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now everything is good. Everything after right now is sort of in the air and I'm just hoping I can juggle everything so it works out as smoothly as it can. &lt;br /&gt;I have so many things coming up that I'm going to need money for, and it feels almost impossible to even think about asking for money from grams and to pay for it all myself and SAVE? any kind of little money that I am making I am going to need a second job so that is something else that I need to work on. My birthday is almost a month away and each day as it is getting closer it is looking less likely that I will get my chest piece. So if you are reading this and want to get me something for my birthday give me money for my chest piece and I will love you forever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is getting so busy. This year is going to be great I know it I have so much to look forward to. So many things to start planning for as well. I have no idea where I will be this time next year, but I sort of know what direction I want to head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so now it is time for California talk.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvLuWZ4_4I/AAAAAAAAAGI/V3fvgxqXTns/s1600-h/11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvLuWZ4_4I/AAAAAAAAAGI/V3fvgxqXTns/s400/11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367107378090672002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so flying was amazing. I was a little nervous at first because I have never flown before but once I was there expieriencing it. It is honestly one of the most amazing things I have ever done, and I want to do it over and over and over.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first full day I was there I went swimming in the ocean. With Dave. Lisa. Ty. Arreal. and Kendal. Ughhh salt water tastes so gross and you cannot help but get it in your mouth. eww, but none the less I had a blast except for the part where we were there for 5 hours and I got 2nd degree burns everywhere a Bikini doesnt cover. So that pretty much ruined the rest of the week for me but I still had a nice trip the family I met was the most amazing family I have and probably will ever meet. They were all so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;and then the wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvM7ryKjCI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/nK2y6T6MKN0/s1600-h/28.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvM7ryKjCI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/nK2y6T6MKN0/s400/28.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367108706679557154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNp8G_efI/AAAAAAAAAG4/z_IZBH6Wd7g/s1600-h/23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNp8G_efI/AAAAAAAAAG4/z_IZBH6Wd7g/s400/23.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367109501335861746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNpVW7IfI/AAAAAAAAAGw/vQDZqen2OuY/s1600-h/17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNpVW7IfI/AAAAAAAAAGw/vQDZqen2OuY/s400/17.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367109490933703154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNorVAKsI/AAAAAAAAAGo/mgBHUCdiSX8/s1600-h/19.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNorVAKsI/AAAAAAAAAGo/mgBHUCdiSX8/s400/19.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367109479651355330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNoJ9qu3I/AAAAAAAAAGg/oYmJ8x6MaPw/s1600-h/16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNoJ9qu3I/AAAAAAAAAGg/oYmJ8x6MaPw/s400/16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367109470695111538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNnnSPXlI/AAAAAAAAAGY/TYwDvR6aFEc/s1600-h/29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvNnnSPXlI/AAAAAAAAAGY/TYwDvR6aFEc/s400/29.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367109461386157650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding was so amazing. It touched me in a way that I cannot discribe, but rather has given me this feeling to sit with.&lt;br /&gt;and that is what I will end this blog with these pretty pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7103963964214914151?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7103963964214914151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/ready-aim-fire.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7103963964214914151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7103963964214914151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/08/ready-aim-fire.html' title='Ready. Aim. Fire.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SnvIhIYLHXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/DrFR0Td80Cg/s72-c/heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5708821230610380499.post-7978973119571166443</id><published>2009-07-27T01:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T01:44:32.150-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The post that wasnt.</title><content type='html'>So I wasnt going to write anything today because nothing happened its been a really horribly boring day, and tomorrow I am heading out on my way to cali for a week and I'm excited to go. I'm excited to get back, but right now I am sitting here and staring at my phone NOT texting my lover even though right now I REALLY want to, but I really need to stop texting so much or I'ma get in a lotta trouble. So I will have to wait till tomorrow evening to call her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now im in a some what somberish mood. &lt;br /&gt;Right now I feel like I have really come to a cross road in my life.&lt;br /&gt;Or if I'm not there I see the intersection coming a head.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just really tired of holding on to things that are gone. Things change people really dont. I'm tired of friends that are never around expecting me to still claim my loyaltys to them. When I really just need to cut ties with all of the baggage I have.&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to starting over with new unfamiliar things, but still the old familar faces and things that I love.&lt;br /&gt;This is going to be good for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5708821230610380499-7978973119571166443?l=lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/feeds/7978973119571166443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/07/post-that-wasnt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7978973119571166443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5708821230610380499/posts/default/7978973119571166443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsayyrybka.blogspot.com/2009/07/post-that-wasnt.html' title='The post that wasnt.'/><author><name>She's A Myth That I Have To Believe In.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10792114592057176585</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7qA9f0644m8/SoC3HZz-3qI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5Sil0wx5e7k/S220/kurt+hasley.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
