<?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-8248433459339912488</id><updated>2012-02-09T04:43:38.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>this is my time bitches</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-6166440457505668572</id><published>2007-11-11T01:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T01:59:30.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>whats been going on...</title><content type='html'>well i have been off the computer for weeks now because i was sick of hearing the bitching from willy about the bills.  i suppose i was also very busy with a new job and having to wake at 5am.  my early rising is 10 am, so i am rooted from the change. i was and still am feeling a tad emotional, and i was staying away from this house till it was bed time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a couple of weeks ago i was in bed and he wanted to talk.  now, i hate talking about relationships, i am emotionally retarded when it comes to talking about relationships and love etc, especially after we have decided to split up.  i mean whats the point?  so there i was in bed watching tv and he was trying to talk about us.  i was giving a very half arsed pretend job of being involved in the conversations.  i guess i could relate it to when marge speaks to homer and he is watching tv, but i am homer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he walks to the side of the bed and grabs an axe (i don't know why we have one there, intruders i suppose).  then walks to the tv and bammo.  the axe goes straight through the tv, glass flies around the room.  i say nothing, do not react except for turning over to go to sleep.  "god, i have always wanted to do that" was his response.  he apologised and didn't try talking to me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have been telling everyone i am leaving because that's what we had worked out.  then a conversation comes up and he says well you won't be here. you decided we were over, and you are moving out of this town.  but this is not the case, it was mutual.  the only difference is he told no one, i did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am so fucking confused.  here is this man i love always have, always will.  he is a wonderful man, he has his life together, he has an amazing family, lots of friends, extremely responsible, he has so many perfect qualities, but we just can't seem to make it work.  then when we are apart i have a great time, i have hooked up with some beautiful men, men that wanted to marry me the whole shebang.  but i do not love them as i do willy.  how can i marry someone i do not love as much as someone else.  it does not seem right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i have to do something because my clock is ticking and each stoke is deafening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what the hell is a girl to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he won't change, i won't change (unless he does).  i guess we are two idiots deeply in love and intensely stubborn.  not a great mix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wish i could hate him.  life would be so much easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-6166440457505668572?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/6166440457505668572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=6166440457505668572' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/6166440457505668572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/6166440457505668572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/11/whats-been-going-on.html' title='whats been going on...'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-3974891636420123975</id><published>2007-10-12T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T08:29:15.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>an update on to floorboard or not to floorboard</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;well i have done it.  a decision has been made.  i knew in my heart of hearts what i really wanted, and i listened to it. now i will act on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i want willy to change.  he wants me to change.  on and off, this has been going on for ten years.  finally i have come to the realisation i cannot change, nor can he.  we are what we are.  and that's a wondrous thing.  problem being we don't work as a couple.  i love him so deeply as he loves me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;so the decision?  i am moving out and i am moving on.  literally, emotionally and physically.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i spoke to my good friend rn buffoon last week and asked her to tell me what to do.  i knew what i wanted to do, but hearing her say it really helped.  i gave her a few options, and she went with the option of me moving back to my roots.  back to the to the town we both grew up in and where she still lives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i decided tonight that i was going to run with it and move.  i phoned her a couple of hours ago to ask if i could stay with her for a week or so.  i will need that time to adjust.  find somewhere to live and get a job.  she was as wonderful as always, and told me of course i could stay with her and her family.  miss buffoon said i could have the top bunk of her teenage sons room.  apparently he is only there three nights per week.  i hope he does not mind. i said i would be quite happy to sleep on her new chocolate coloured lounge. i told her i would pay rent and she wouldn't have a bar of it.  instead i offered my culinary and cleaning skills.  she seemed quite chuffed with that compromise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i should let you all know now.  i caught her at the pub, and she was in good spirits.  she must have been there for an hour or so.  after we spoke i sent her a text explaining if she changed her mind in the sobering hours of tomorrow morning i would not be upset because i know it's such a big favour.  of course being the woman she is, she sent one back telling me i was an idiot, along those lines.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;if you are reading this miss buffoon, it still applies.  if you change your mind, or its going to cause any hassles PLEASE tell me.  i won't be offended.  you could never hurt me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;she has just bought herself a new 4wd so we are heading to the nudist beach.  we are also going to her sisters to ride her horses.  and best of all we will get drunk together, gossip, catch up on absolutely everything, and have lots of good old fashioned female bonding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i can't wait.  i wish i could leave tomorrow.  i am so fucking excited!  the thought of catching up with my long lost bestie.  the possibilities my future now holds.  my dreams and goals i have established in my mind.  this is my time bitches!  and i simply cannot wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i will however, miss willy.  as i always do.  this time is so different though.  every other time i have left i always knew we would get back together.  i always knew i would be with him till we grew into a pair of grey haired wrinkly prunes.  not this time.  i know this is the end.  i know he is not my future wrinkled prune.  i know we will always be in love and have a chunk of each other in our hearts.  but that chunk is now of a love shared and grown out of.  its also a chunk that is reserved for best friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am happy.  i am positive.  i am excited.  i am nervous.  i am a six year old on christmas eve.  i am a lucky thirty three year old single woman.  my future is golden.  my decision is made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait for my future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-3974891636420123975?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/3974891636420123975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=3974891636420123975' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3974891636420123975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3974891636420123975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/10/update-on-to-floorboard-or-not-to.html' title='an update on to floorboard or not to floorboard'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-8627206496501823397</id><published>2007-09-30T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T02:49:29.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why are men so emotionally retarded</title><content type='html'>willy is my man. well i guess not any more. we are not together. we are living together, still having sex, cuddles and tell each other we love each other. to tell you the truth,  since we decided it was over things have never been better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mind you, this on again off again thing has been happening between us for at least ten years. its a cycle.  after a year or so it ends. usually willy wanting to finish things up. i move on, do my own thing, enjoy single life and the city. being me. solo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when we are apart i cant have any contact with him because i am still insanely in love with him. eventually i wear down. he calls, i don't answer. he texts, i read them but don't reply. he can't understand this. i reply with 'its like this, if i can't have you, all of you, with me, as a whole, then its not enough and i don't want any of you. it hurts too much and i find it impossible to move on. it's hard enough trying to forget our love but to have to hear you in my ears, talk to you with my voice. it is too hard. it is too much'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway i am different this time around. i am not weak, an emotional wreck, and this, this seems to be affecting him him in an unusual way. little things like pulling up the carpet. he bought this house over two years ago and as soon as we moved in i explained my excitement and need to rip up the carpet, polish the floorboards. last night after i vacuumed and cleaned for two hours (very unusual for me to be so thorough), he announces he is pulling up the carpet. i was so excited as i can imagine how gorgeous the place would look. the carpet here is a living culture. it had been a rental for years. mainly young students with a soft spot for parties and copious amounts of alcohol, they have left their scent on the carpet. it has worn out tracks in it where these students have walked from bedroom to lounge room to the kitchen, to grab another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;coldie&lt;/span&gt; no doubt. anyway you get the idea, this carpet is revolting and so fucking dusty. i dust and within two hours another layer has replaced it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;so we rip up the carpet together.  it was great fun.  something i had wanted to do since we moved in together.  i am running around like an excited school girl and saying how wonderful it all looks and how gorgeous it will be when we polish it.  he replies with 'why do you care you are moving out anyway'.  what is he doing?  why does he decide to do this after we have broken up?  why couldn't he do this in the beginning?  how does he want me to react?  fuck it is so confusing.  i am being emotionally bulldozed by this man i love, adore and cherish.   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;we just can't work things out.  like all relationships after about a year you fall into a routine and the passion dies down.  maybe this is our problem?  we expect this feeling to continue on forever.  it's such a predictable cycle.  it's as reliable as my period!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;if i leave this time i cannot come back.  i have, we have been living this crazy cycle for too long.  i want to travel for a couple of years, then meet the man of my dreams, settle down and have a family.  i don't want to look back in another ten years and realise i have been living this cycle for twenty years and have no stable lover, no children.  i just couldn't do it to myself.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;he runs so hot and cold.  one day he is so loving, the next he is asking when i am moving out.  i know i am still here in the vague hope he will come to his senses and realise what we have really is a beautiful thing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;he said to me the other day that he would be happy the day i told him i was getting married and he did not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;have to&lt;/span&gt; worry about me anymore?  worry about me?  i took that as he would never be able to have me again and would be forced to move on.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;can someone give me some light on this situation.  seeing it from the outside.  i may have it all wrong.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-8627206496501823397?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/8627206496501823397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=8627206496501823397' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/8627206496501823397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/8627206496501823397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/why-are-men-so-emotionally-retarded.html' title='why are men so emotionally retarded'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-7345612779129629753</id><published>2007-09-27T04:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T04:53:39.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YEAH YEAH YEAHS - Modern Romance Lyrics | Collection of Song Lyrics at Song Lyrics.com</title><content type='html'>YEAH YEAH YEAHS -"Album: Fever to tell baby im afraid of a lot of things but i aint scared of loving you  baby i know your afraid of a lot of things but don't be scared of love cause people will say all kinds of things that don't mean a dam to me cause all i see is what's in front of me and thats you well, ive been dragged all over the place ive taken hits time just don't erase and baby i can see you've been fucked with too but that don't mean your loving days are through cause people will say all kinds of things that don't mean a dam to me cause all i see is what's in front of me and thats you well i may be just a fool but i know were just as cool and cool kids they belong together"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-7345612779129629753?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.songlyrics.com/song-lyrics/YEAH_YEAH_YEAHS/Miscellaneous/Modern_Romance/240297.html' title='YEAH YEAH YEAHS - Modern Romance Lyrics | Collection of Song Lyrics at Song Lyrics.com'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/7345612779129629753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=7345612779129629753' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/7345612779129629753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/7345612779129629753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/yeah-yeah-yeahs-modern-romance-lyrics.html' title='YEAH YEAH YEAHS - Modern Romance Lyrics | Collection of Song Lyrics at Song Lyrics.com'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-6523565448876620724</id><published>2007-09-27T04:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T04:42:18.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>song or poem or something</title><content type='html'>you make me dizzy&lt;br /&gt;put me in a spin&lt;br /&gt;i'm the only one that can see you&lt;br /&gt;you know the one&lt;br /&gt;the real you&lt;br /&gt;electricity&lt;br /&gt;sparks fly from you to me&lt;br /&gt;sparks of pain&lt;br /&gt;sparks of passion&lt;br /&gt;i fuck you&lt;br /&gt;i make love to you&lt;br /&gt;i want you for your love and your pain&lt;br /&gt;electricity baby&lt;br /&gt;its all to blame&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-6523565448876620724?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/6523565448876620724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=6523565448876620724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/6523565448876620724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/6523565448876620724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/song-or-poem-or-something.html' title='song or poem or something'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-815170135710726495</id><published>2007-09-27T01:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T01:42:23.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>losing babies</title><content type='html'>my good friend rn_buffoon told me recently her sister had lost her baby. it was about 6 months old and stayed alive for two hours.  they had a funeral for her.  i feel so for her sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it brought back memories i had locked away, never to having to deal with again.  when you stop taking heroin these gems surface to kick you in the gut.  i have lost in total 5 babies.  i do not have any children.  i have had endometriosis for years and it has done damage.  i had an operation a few weeks ago and received the best news ever.  it looked good in there.  he thought i may be able to fall pregnant naturally (i only have one fallopian tube as i had an ectopic pregnancy).  if not he said IVF would be really successful for me.  these were the words i was wanting to hear forever.  the only catch i would have to try naturally by 34-35, 36 at the latest.  the cut off time for successful IVF 37.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have been thinking off my babies.  i have never called them this before.  they were the miscarriages, the ones that went down the shower then in a plastic bag to the hospital, or down the toilet or thrown in the bin, or sucked out or cut out by doctors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my first would be 11.  i know she was a girl.  i know she would have been perfect. i know i would have loved her.  but she was not meant to be.  i loved having them inside me. i cant begin to imagine how much i would have loved them outside of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love you my little babies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-815170135710726495?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/815170135710726495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=815170135710726495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/815170135710726495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/815170135710726495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/losing-babies.html' title='losing babies'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-4434467189886675578</id><published>2007-09-27T00:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T01:20:26.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>brother where are't thou?</title><content type='html'>jason my dearest brother. what is going on? your pain radiates through the phone. your denial radiates though the phone. it deafens my ears and it rips through breaking my heart. i know i cannot help you. i can send you as much money as you think you need. i can listen to your eloquent lies as to why you need money. don't you realise i can see right through you? its like looking in the mirror. have you forgotten i too have been where you still are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know your pain, you desperation. i also know that no one can help you and by giving you cash we are helping you sink lower and lower into the that ground hog day nightmare. you may hate me. you made it clear you hate all the family and the rest of the world is there for the sole purpose to fuck your life up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the difference is my darling brother, you have paranoid delusions. i had depression. your head is not working and you are full of hate. please get some help. not to buy more smack. help to fix your emotional and mental issues. that's all they are, issues, not problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i would take you away but when you returned you would go back to your life to medicate your pain away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know part of your pain. you did not go through it alone as you like to remind me. i lived it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love you my darling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love you dearly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears are running down my face. i feel like i am letting you down. but i know i am not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love what you have. love what you can have. it is never too late my darling. i am proof.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-4434467189886675578?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/4434467189886675578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=4434467189886675578' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4434467189886675578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4434467189886675578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/brother-where-aret-though.html' title='brother where are&apos;t thou?'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-4713091314625570477</id><published>2007-09-25T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T09:39:10.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>slipper familiy, they aren't golden, but they are mine.</title><content type='html'>i have made contact. i am officially back in my families lives.&lt;br /&gt;its been 6 years of no contact with most of them. my aunty joan and uncle ron (my guardians) who i love, as they brought me up after my mothers death, my eldest and full blood brother jason, my youngest cousin mark, my half brother angus (have not spoke to him in around 10 years, and have not had much contact to do with him ever), my eldest half brother richard ( i have never had contact with him, he lives in the u.k) and my father, who i was forbidden to see after my mum died. i saw him once when i was a teenager, then again when i was 21 for about 2 weeks, then a year and a half ago i moved to melbourne and spent time with him for 9 months, then i left melbourne to move to the country in n.s.w and have not spoken to him in 8 months. then there was a quick phone call to scotland to speak with a great aunt i have never seen or heard of or from in my entire lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;i forgot how demanding family are. i forgot how it felt to belong to blood. i forgot how quickly it can charge your heart with love.&lt;br /&gt;family are like a pair of your favourite old slippers. they are comforting, warm and soothing. yet no one else can wear them as they are moulded to your feet, yours alone. sure they smell. they look worn out and old. most people would not attempt to put their toes into them, let alone wear them. but you wear them around the house, even wearing them down to the local shop to grab some milk. you love those stinky old slippers. and do you know why? to you, they are perfect. buy a new pair? how dare you suggest such a thing! i will wear those slippers until they die.&lt;br /&gt;i am so happy i found mine again.&lt;br /&gt;i tried going without them for too long.&lt;br /&gt;my feet did not smell and no one commented on how old and had it they were.&lt;br /&gt;but my feet got cold.&lt;br /&gt;god it's wonderful to slip back into my old faithfuls.&lt;br /&gt;i will wear them with dysfunctional pride.&lt;br /&gt;and love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-4713091314625570477?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/4713091314625570477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=4713091314625570477' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4713091314625570477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4713091314625570477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/slipper-familiy-they-arent-golden-but.html' title='slipper familiy, they aren&apos;t golden, but they are mine.'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-2073515422758329895</id><published>2007-09-23T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T23:11:38.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>heroin chic, i mean dick</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; had dabbled with heroin on and off for a round 1 year (that i knew of). i was so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;naive&lt;/span&gt;. i remember &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; and bad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;benny&lt;/span&gt; came to meet me at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;newtown&lt;/span&gt; station. i had finished work in north &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;sydney&lt;/span&gt;. i was working at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;sydneys&lt;/span&gt; best &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;agency&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;george&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;pattersons&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; had a single red rose and was showing me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of love. by this stage i was aware of the effects of heroin. especially with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt;. alarm bells deafened me but i said nothing and returned the love. we were walking down king street and i asked the boys how their day was. then vomit all over the foot path. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;spuing&lt;/span&gt; in the middle of king street. nothing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;unusual&lt;/span&gt; for the area. bad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;benny&lt;/span&gt; said 'i had that vomiting bug the other day dude, you must have caught it too'. i was furious. this had been a topic of ours on and off as i said for a year. every time he did it i would give him one more chance, threatening the next time i would leave. such empty threats. i loved that boy. he had a beautiful heart. he had had such a loveless &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;parent less&lt;/span&gt; life. he had come through such adversities. and i thought he was gorgeous and cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i went off my nut. i told them both i was no idiot and i knew as soon as i had seen them they were stoned. denial followed suit till we got home and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; and i were alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;this continued on for another couple of months. by this stage a few of my close friends had started to use, i thought casually, later i found out the real truth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;heroin&lt;/span&gt; virginity was lost one night when milky and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;vanessa&lt;/span&gt; came over to our house. we shared a 5 bedroom place with 7 of us. we were all close friends and none of them used heroin and did not like anything about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;they produced a packet of smack and had a new fit box. they asked us if we would like any. 'no way' was my reply. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; told me it would be safe and it was not as bad as i thought. milky and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;vanessa&lt;/span&gt; gave &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; the same &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;spiel&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;'&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; then'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; shot me up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;the warm rush started in my chest and made its way to all my extremities. fuck, i had never felt this way. maybe when i was a kid and that pure joy, love felling you would get from simple joys or a parents cuddle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;all my sadness vanished. all my worries vanished. i could switch my brain off. i could just think happy thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;this was magic tool. i fell in love with it immediately.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i remember &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;dans&lt;/span&gt; joy at how much i enjoyed it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;all i felt was love for him. love for my friends milky and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;vanessa&lt;/span&gt;. love for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;. i felt relaxed for the first time, perhaps in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-2073515422758329895?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/2073515422758329895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=2073515422758329895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/2073515422758329895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/2073515422758329895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/heroin-chic-i-mean-dick.html' title='heroin chic, i mean dick'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-7793358384128337483</id><published>2007-09-22T05:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T05:54:04.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sharmanic conversion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;life changes, epiphanies, shamanic conversions-there are thousands of names for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;they come with pain, loss, hurt.  it's a time when you are forced to look inside and reflect.  to really see and understand your hurt whether you caused it or it chose you.  look at it's repercussions, the effect it has on you, your life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;it's your play dough stage.  if you don't remould yourself, you end up a mashed blob, hoping someone else will remould you.  you can't wait for help when it comes to reshaping your own life.  the longer you wait the further away you get from you desired design.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;if you stay in this stage you seem to be magnetised to all the horrid self pity of hurt, pain, loss and confusion. it becomes an addiction, an annoying friend you can't seem to tell to piss off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;needfully&lt;/span&gt; acquire the 'why me' syndrome.  the longer we carry this badge with twisted morbid self pity, the further it seeps into every particle of us.  taking over every fibre of our being.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, FUCKING KNOCK.  we must answer the door.  welcome our shamanic conversion or whatever you want to call it. while giving the old pain in the arse faithful 'WHY ME' the boot.  bury that fucker six feet under and it will be the only funeral you will cry tears of joy, dance with freedom, and become the person you really want, and should be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;good luck with it darlings if its coming to a cinema near you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-7793358384128337483?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/7793358384128337483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=7793358384128337483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/7793358384128337483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/7793358384128337483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/sharmanic-conversion.html' title='sharmanic conversion'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-8227886311770730213</id><published>2007-09-22T05:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T05:23:10.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'>lust</title><content type='html'>my black eye make up, my red lips&lt;br /&gt;heat from our bodies warm the silk sheets&lt;br /&gt;an urge to fall into a picture void&lt;br /&gt;where it's always lustful and erotic&lt;br /&gt;drunk on bodily juices&lt;br /&gt;we fly away&lt;br /&gt;to an almost make believe world, where only we exist&lt;br /&gt;one woman, one man&lt;br /&gt;the highest we have ever felt&lt;br /&gt;all natural&lt;br /&gt;sharing our bodies&lt;br /&gt;absolute heightened pleasure&lt;br /&gt;we orgasm together&lt;br /&gt;again and again&lt;br /&gt;soaking wet,&lt;br /&gt;a dream shared&lt;br /&gt;holding each other till we fall asleep&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-8227886311770730213?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/8227886311770730213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=8227886311770730213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/8227886311770730213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/8227886311770730213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/lust.html' title='lust'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-870134880442036256</id><published>2007-09-22T03:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T04:52:45.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>natural progression</title><content type='html'>natural progression&lt;br /&gt;the clouds are thick&lt;br /&gt;natures winds constantly redirect their direction, shape, density&lt;br /&gt;natural progression&lt;br /&gt;ever changing patterns of beauty and brutality and cleansing&lt;br /&gt;necessary for protection from the sun and elements&lt;br /&gt;rebirth and hydration from the rain they hold and release for the need from below&lt;br /&gt;natural progression&lt;br /&gt;patterns of nature&lt;br /&gt;patterns of life&lt;br /&gt;i realise now the need and the power of&lt;br /&gt;natural progression&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-870134880442036256?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/870134880442036256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=870134880442036256' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/870134880442036256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/870134880442036256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/natural-progression.html' title='natural progression'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-8223917413168366935</id><published>2007-09-22T03:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T03:41:33.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>willy again</title><content type='html'>my heart pounds&lt;br /&gt;body electrifies&lt;br /&gt;apart again&lt;br /&gt;trying to live without each other&lt;br /&gt;i have just thought of you&lt;br /&gt;warmth and pain&lt;br /&gt;ecstasy and devastation&lt;br /&gt;why does it have to be this way&lt;br /&gt;it can't be the lose of comfort and knowing&lt;br /&gt;our love runs deep&lt;br /&gt;pumps through our veins&lt;br /&gt;circulates till it reaches our hearts&lt;br /&gt;it's a love insane&lt;br /&gt;we have so much&lt;br /&gt;the keystone all are looking for&lt;br /&gt;true love&lt;br /&gt;please let go of your material jail&lt;br /&gt;its all yours, i do not want it&lt;br /&gt;please love me for who i am&lt;br /&gt;my spirit, eccentricities, my qualities you fell in love with in the beginning&lt;br /&gt;why crush them, crush me,&lt;br /&gt;day by day&lt;br /&gt;word by word&lt;br /&gt;action by action&lt;br /&gt;i hide these things in my internal treasure chest, locked away from you, your family, your friends&lt;br /&gt;when i secretly unlock it you are no where near and i feel safe to be me&lt;br /&gt;i let a select few see the real me&lt;br /&gt;did you realise you owned its key&lt;br /&gt;scared to be me&lt;br /&gt;terrified not to be me&lt;br /&gt;scared to never be with you again&lt;br /&gt;feel your touch&lt;br /&gt;hear your laughter&lt;br /&gt;feel our love&lt;br /&gt;together&lt;br /&gt;you are my one&lt;br /&gt;as i am yours&lt;br /&gt;if only you'd change&lt;br /&gt;i'd follow suit&lt;br /&gt;we could be happy&lt;br /&gt;our love so strong&lt;br /&gt;if you'd be less concrete&lt;br /&gt;become an earthy clay&lt;br /&gt;love and happiness would find its way&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-8223917413168366935?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/8223917413168366935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=8223917413168366935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/8223917413168366935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/8223917413168366935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/willy-again.html' title='willy again'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-157344671688234662</id><published>2007-09-22T02:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T03:03:07.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>more willy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;the silent departing of a love denying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;disappearing into the dark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;my love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thief&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;he has my heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;sleepless at night &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;comatose&lt;/span&gt; in the light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i look into you and i see nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i cannot find me in your eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i look into you and see the painful truth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i know what i must do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;goodbye my love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-157344671688234662?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/157344671688234662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=157344671688234662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/157344671688234662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/157344671688234662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/more-willy.html' title='more willy'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-3025281209431641544</id><published>2007-09-22T02:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T02:57:03.412-07:00</updated><title type='text'>willy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;skin sweaty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;hearts pounding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i fall into your endless beauty and strength&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;until i see myself in your eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i fade into you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;you fade into me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xxx&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-3025281209431641544?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/3025281209431641544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=3025281209431641544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3025281209431641544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3025281209431641544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/willy.html' title='willy'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-3975936553192146086</id><published>2007-09-20T01:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T04:01:51.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my story part two...</title><content type='html'>we moved to newcastle. my brother and i would spend all our school holidays there. we knew it well and loved holidaying there with aunt and uncle and nanna and keith(pop, he felt it made him sound too old). it had a different feel to it this time. now it was inescapable, irreversible, my new life. the one i did not want or ask for. the one i had no say in.&lt;br /&gt;i did not go to school for a while. i wanted to. but the guardians ever watchful, caring eyes thought it best. who knows maybe they were right.&lt;br /&gt;even aged ten i have acquired a taste for fashion and all its hideous 80's trends. i decided i would cut my long hair into a short bob and leave an incredibly long rats tail at the nape of my neck. this was me getting rid of the old, making myself into a different person.&lt;br /&gt;my first day at my new school was exciting and scary and hurtful all at once.&lt;br /&gt;people stared, shes the one who has no mother and father, shes the one that went to a school with nuns. i remember a girl called alison coming up to me, teasing me, taunting me. "you don't have a mother and you went to a weird school with nuns. she was the toughest girl in my year. i was intimidated by her. after that little doesy i jumped on top of her smashing every ounce of hurt and hate where ever i could. she got a bleeding nose and i got a counselling session to see how i was coping.&lt;br /&gt;she never bothered me again.&lt;br /&gt;after that i made some wonderful friends. some i still have to this day. but always the feeling of alienation. the worst was when we had excursions and the teacher would hand out permission slips saying 'now your parents must sign this' then they remembered i was in the class, 'or your guardians' eyes would penetrate and i would fight back my tears.&lt;br /&gt;it was in black and white. parents, then a huge black&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;/&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;then guardians. i felt so alone in that category.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-3975936553192146086?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/3975936553192146086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=3975936553192146086' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3975936553192146086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3975936553192146086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-story-part-two.html' title='my story part two...'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-4759155333563445435</id><published>2007-09-13T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T02:32:27.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i just spoke to my estranged, perhaps deranged should be used instead, father.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i can't help but love the man, but he is so self obsessed.  he tried the old its not me that has hurt you in your childhood but all your dead mothers relations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i must say there is some truth in this.  after my mums death we were forbidden to see him.  my aunt and uncle told myself and brother that he did not want us and he was not making contact with us.  after a year i found my aunt and uncle in their room with some child's painting and a lot of pages of writing.  i asked whom it was from and they replied with 'wrong address'.  i went to the bin hours later and found it.  it was from my father,the painting from my half brother angus.  the deceit ripped through my heart like a catapult and i hated them for it.  i was led to believe my father had abandoned me....he hadn't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;can you imagine the pain in my child heart?  the one that was wanting a connection to what i loved and knew and craved so intensely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;so i found the phone number and address.  i wrote and was never answered.  perhaps they were intercepted, maybe he changed address.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;years later when i was 15 i answered the phone and that thick scottish accent sent me into a spin.  it was my daddy.  i arranged to meet him.  i wagged school and met him in the city.  it was wonderful, the whole day.  i asked him to take me with him.  i wanted to live with him.  his answer was a dance around no.  it ripped through me.  i had lost him again.  i went home.  i told my aunt what i had done.  i guess then she thought the time was right to show me the papers from court, the ones that gave her guardianship.  there it was in black and white.  my fathers statement.  i can't provide a stable home for my children.  they would be better with aunt and uncle.  the lie from him, the truth from them.  fuck the lot of them.  they all lie and bullshit.  what is the fucking point of being part of any family.  from that day on my friends became my family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;any who back to daddy dearest from talking to him tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;he explained in his thick scottish accent that he had had a shit childhood.  his mother gave him away to a home and he had been molestered by her boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;that is horrid and it breaks my heart.  but why can't he see he is repeating history with his 4 estranged kids.  he had the audacity to tell me he did not need any shit in his life, ie me or my brother.  but i found out the other day he speaks to his youngest son angus(my half brother) weekly.  i did not  mention this because i did not want to hear more bullshit.  i don't know what i should be learning from this.  perhaps just look after number one.  yeah that's what it would be.  did i mention i am his only daughter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-4759155333563445435?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/4759155333563445435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=4759155333563445435' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4759155333563445435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4759155333563445435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-just-spoke-to-my-estranged-perhaps.html' title=''/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-4100812365383127512</id><published>2007-09-09T03:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T19:34:03.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this is my story part one</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i guess it all started with my mothers death on my tenth birthday. as selfish as it sounds i wanted to have my party. i suppose i knew, even then how things would change so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dramatically&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i knew she was dead because she came to say goodbye whilst i was sleeping. i loved her so much. she was my world. she was so beautiful. a dark haired long legged woman. she was always manicured, blow dried and looking perfect. she was my mum and i was devastated she had left me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;all the relatives were in the lounge room and i was on a fold out bed. i had just dreamt of her then the phone rang. i pretended i was asleep. i didn't want to face the reality of it all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;then the tears and heartache of why came from my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;relatives&lt;/span&gt;. i could not pretend to sleep any longer i knew what i had to do. i had to be strong for all of them. i was very good at it. i had been so strong already for mum and dad and my brother. i had lied to my grandparents religiously for years about my mothers emotional well being....and mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;no dad had not hit her there were no fights. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;des&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; the new husband was very nice. treated her like a princess. i was, still am highly skilled at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;art form&lt;/span&gt; of deception. i like to think of it as warping the ugly truth into a mystical beauty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;so i woke from my pretend sleep to allow them to tell me the news.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i ran outside to be alone and vomit repeatedly. i could hear them calling my name, but i was not ready to put on my show. i had to compose myself. pull myself together so i would not upset them further.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;it took me about 20 minutes then i reappeared. i knew i would have to show some emotion but it would have to be filtered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i was right. as soon as they saw me their eyes pierced me in a foreign way. my god she looks just like her. this is her legacy. we will let her live on through her. it was like she died and they thought she was trapped inside of me. i was no longer &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;emma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; i was sandy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i hated it. i could only let my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;guard&lt;/span&gt; down alone at night. i would sob into my pillow till my eyes were swollen and my heart was broken. i would exhaust myself to sleep every night. how i longed for some sort of normality. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;my mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i wanted to stay in our house and stay at my school where all my good friends were. but who wanted me and my brother? who really wanted us?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;out of duty my mothers eldest sister and her husband took us in. there 3 children were turning into adults and they were ready to travel and retire. do what they had planned for years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;so we were packed up and left what we knew. our home, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sydney&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bondi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; beach, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;paddington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; markets, school, restaurants, a young hip inner city mum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;we moved to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;newcastle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; with our aging guardians. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;our alien life had started. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-4100812365383127512?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/4100812365383127512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=4100812365383127512' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4100812365383127512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/4100812365383127512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/this-is-my-story.html' title='this is my story part one'/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248433459339912488.post-3190410875826408847</id><published>2007-09-09T02:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T02:55:19.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i have had an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;epiphany.  they only come through adversity and bullshit that life throws your way.  i was having a wank on the lounge and realised that i alone could make myself feel good.  noone else just me.  see, i have been trying to find happiness from partners for years, since i was 19.  so through the wonders of intense orgasm i found my answer. me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;i realised i have been in a nightmare for years and now is my dreamtime.  why would anyone in there right mind want to live a shit life?  god knows i have invested some heavy duty disipline to achieve it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;to be a heroin addict and lose best friends and my first love.  to repeat the unhealthy relationship patterns my mother invested so dearly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;maybe i'm a drama queen?  lets face it what female doesn't love a bit of drama.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;but i'm affraid i am over it!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;looking at the person i thought i loved so dearly and was so good for me and realising he is so utterly wrong for me was a scary thing.  i didn't like myself for putting up with this bullshit.  i did not like him. i just want out of this fucked up situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;but that bastard time has to tick a while before i can get on my feet and run to the hills.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;i am stuck in a loveless relationship, in a small minded shitty country town.  fuck, i hate the cuntry.  its nice to visit but it holds no excitment no stimulation.  just a bunch of 12 fingered inbred freaks that think their little town is the blueprint for success and community.  that only rings true if you were born with those extra fingers to fuck yourself with!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;i know i sound jaded, god knows i am.  at least i can see that its my fault...noone elses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248433459339912488-3190410875826408847?l=wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/feeds/3190410875826408847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248433459339912488&amp;postID=3190410875826408847' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3190410875826408847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248433459339912488/posts/default/3190410875826408847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wemmaly-thisismytimebitches.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-have-had-epiphany.html' title=''/><author><name>wemmaly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16147754774038140694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
