<?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-3631344201295038250</id><updated>2012-02-17T09:40:39.079+08:00</updated><category term='not worth my time anymore'/><title type='text'>I am Cheryl.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631344201295038250.post-505059072388677334</id><published>2012-02-13T01:42:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2012-02-13T01:56:03.250+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Y'know,sometimes i wished you actually visit this space. Simply because i explain myself better here. Maybe imma try to be totally thick skinned and ask you to read it tmr. ._.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, to me, the perfect date is just to cuddle somewhere (and i mean cuddling) or anywhere where we can just discuss about anything under the sun. Obviously the best place imo is at the beach where theres the sea breeze and stars and all.But its totally okay if we don't go there. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am that kinda girl who doesn't need expensive gifts or expensive restaurant food. I only want your time and attention. Call me an attention-whore, whatever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, i die a little inside whenever you forget something i say or are just don't notice obvious hints. It feels like i don't matter. Okay to be honest, i want the attentiveness. Dunno why, maybe cause it makes me feel needed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It always feels like you don't need me. I throw stupid tantrums because i want your attention. Yes just like a kid. (Guess it applies even during older years)I get annoyed when i text you a long ass message, put in effort to put the emoticons and all and you reply me with a half-hearted answers. I hate that. It feels like a one-sided effort y'know what i mean? It hurts okay. Especially when its about something about the relationship. If you don't give me the attention i crave, i will go to another source. Subconsciously creating a barricade between you and my feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe i have told you this at least 9000 times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry for being so sensitive and needy. I can't help it. All i want is some communication. Not material goods. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-505059072388677334?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/505059072388677334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=505059072388677334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/505059072388677334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/505059072388677334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2012/02/yknowsometimes-i-wished-you-actually.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-9122578403260624719</id><published>2012-01-14T00:53:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-14T01:00:49.698+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>They say that you'll you know when you're in love. &lt;br /&gt;I don't know. Am i in love? :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not ready for this. Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;But the thing is, I can't bear to leave. It hurts. Really &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it hurts, can I say that I am in love? Or could it be caused from separation anxiety (K, wrong choice of words, but you know la. LOL).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate this. Wish I could be like everybody else and feel with their heart. I can't. D:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, the phrase 'in love' sounds so.....so.... scary. I feel weird using it actually. I don't know why. Commitment phobia maybe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really admire people who know what they want, in matters of the heart that is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-9122578403260624719?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/9122578403260624719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=9122578403260624719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/9122578403260624719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/9122578403260624719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2012/01/they-say-that-youll-you-know-when-youre.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-8654008416671920830</id><published>2011-12-28T01:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T01:47:31.645+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The first person to show any sign of emotion, loses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-8654008416671920830?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/8654008416671920830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=8654008416671920830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8654008416671920830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8654008416671920830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-do-you-stand-to-lose-maybe.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-6640395297989155191</id><published>2011-12-20T04:16:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T04:17:40.659+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello.&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I'm typing this on Omm Writer, and I'm obliged to use correct punctuation and grammar and all cause the words and noise are just toooo pretty to resist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anw, back to whatever I wanted to talk about. I was thinking about the many masks that people hide in every single day, in front of many different people. I'm not saying its a bad thing. To me, it is more of a defence mechanism to prevent oneself  form getting judged by insecure, backstabbers out there. Lets face it, we ALL judge. Whether you like it all not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how will we actually know how our friends are feeling right now. Not everybody can look into a person's eyes and be able to recognise that your friend is having a bad day. If a good friend were to offend me, do I get show that I am hurt on the spot? No, I would probably smile and pretend that all is well and that it does not affect me at all.  Unless you look into my eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there, how can we tell how much you yourself mean to someone? You never know. I don't trust  words. But thats just me, that does not mean that they cannot be trusted. Especially from people who are important to you. You will never understand how other people look at you, how they see you from their point of view. You'll prolly never know the difference you made in their lifes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet that at some point in time, you would have made a difference in someone's life. Even if its just a simple gesture of saying thank you to some one who.... gave up their seat for you. Do you honestly see the gratitude on their faces? Even if they smile?  I don't think so, I think that we see the gratitude in people's eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like a mask, everything is covered except the eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul, but sadly, many of us cannot see or rather refuse to.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW I HAVE BEEN POSTING PRETTY OFTEN. HAHAHA! GOT PEOPLE READ MEH?! If someone ever does, text/tweet/inform me k! I'd like to know. So interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-6640395297989155191?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/6640395297989155191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=6640395297989155191' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/6640395297989155191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/6640395297989155191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/12/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-4350180812970920052</id><published>2011-12-14T23:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T23:23:33.657+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So frustrated. So, so frustrated. K i take that at would be an understatement. I feel like shit, i feel like my brain just got bulldozed then dissolved in acid. pfft.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Such an unfamiliar feeling. D:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know why. Why you everything also don't know. Don't know what you want, don't know how you feel, don't know why you fat? Loser sia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the plus side, I do know that I should not give up. Cause in the end, if it does fail, I can at least say that i tried. CHEH. STEP ONE WISE AND DEEP. HAHAHA!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;KKKKK. gonna go paint nails. Nail polish makes me happy man. Teehee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-4350180812970920052?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/4350180812970920052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=4350180812970920052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4350180812970920052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4350180812970920052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-frustrated.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-1123958604080159327</id><published>2011-12-08T22:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T23:47:24.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I hate it, when i open my heart and show my emotions to someone important.&lt;br /&gt;I dont know why. Maybe because it shows my vulnerability. It gives the person power to hurt me. I admire people who can do that. Constantly baring their souls. I wish i could do that really. maybe then, I wouldn't need to hide, hide behind whatever. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anw, I don't think you care anymore. Really. I see the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So hard to talk to you about this. You're never free, always doing something. Always. Besides, I can tell that you're reaching your limit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't feel anything from you. I feel like I'm just a habit that you have, something you're so used to having. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its not like i never tell you this before. You always go all sad and say okay i'll change or something. But you never do. I mean, i dont need you to change. I just need you to understand why i act irrational sometimes. Doubt you'd remember though. Is this how much i mean to you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you still care? Honestly you're the first one i open my heart to. And i'm afraid of what you can do with it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-1123958604080159327?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/1123958604080159327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=1123958604080159327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1123958604080159327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1123958604080159327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-hate-it-when-i-open-my-heart-and-show.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-5084711390514118769</id><published>2011-12-06T01:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T01:37:45.939+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Childhood dream: To sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As i get older, this dream tend to fade. Until I see something that reminded me of it. Like youtube videos and such. Only then I remember that i have such an aspiration. What the hell was i doing in between? Pretty much trying to please people around me by doing things I don't like to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why do i even try to please people around me? Sure they notice, for awhile. And then after that, they just forget. And the best part, pleasing them through things THEY think is good. Not things i like. Do I honestly like science THAT much? No. I just happen to be good at it. (They as in parents)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do I like sports? I'm okay with it, but not really into it. Just in it cause.... yeah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do i really like? I like to draw. As in really draw, not draw atoms kinda draw. I wanna learn how to dance, or play the piano. Not netball or track or some other sport. Sure, I love the sports im doing now. But if i were given a choice as a kid, would i have chosen a sport? No. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anw, childhood dreams. I feel that they are the ones who truly reflect who you are. Not the person that your parents, your environment or the people around have shaped you to become. The dreams that you have as you get older, are the ones you THINK you should achieve. Not the ones you actually want. Honestly, how many people aspire to be an accountant simply because they like numbers? Few and far between. I bet the people who aspire to be accountants were conditioned to think that such a job would earn them loadsa moolah (which it would), and would bring them lots of happiness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sure, i totally agree that in this age, money can buy you happiness. Material or not. But, maybe as you get older, like for example when you're 65, all rich and high up in the career ladder, you realise theres something missing, something that you've always wanted to do, but never did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you'd probably never figure out what it is. That, is probably what you wanted to do as a kid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even if it was all stupid like making a bag out of vegetables, if it were something you really wanted to do when you were young, just it. We were all weaned out of our imagination and things we know we're good at. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you're doing what you wanted to do as a kid, good for you. If like me, never gotten a chance to prove yourself, do it NOW.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gonna learn how to play the guitar then maybe condition my voice to sing using the chords. HAHA! K gotta postpone though. D: Sian.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm prolly not making much sense here. But oh well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-5084711390514118769?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/5084711390514118769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=5084711390514118769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5084711390514118769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5084711390514118769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/12/childhood-dream-to-sing.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-2757108016763239057</id><published>2011-12-03T16:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-03T17:04:41.783+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hellllooooooooo! (Not really sure to who. LOL)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anyway, a little birdie told me that i have changed. Have I?&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know. Its like i still like the same things, still have the same temper, but probably a different stress level. Hmm. Thats about it. I guess&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dunno. Its like when I'm a certain kinda person (me being straightforward) its not okay with a friend, which is LY in this situation. So, me being ridiculously stupid, decides to change. Like ya know, watch my words. Which btw, is pretty hard. So i tend to get withdrawn and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After awhile, this habit tend to stick. And therefore, i remain and all.&lt;br /&gt;THEN, another friend will say that I've changed. In which case, i wouldn't have noticed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aiya whatever la. Can't be bothered to explain. Just gonna study pregnancy and lactation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-2757108016763239057?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/2757108016763239057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=2757108016763239057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2757108016763239057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2757108016763239057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/12/hellllooooooooo-not-really-sure-to-who.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-4542686628372996728</id><published>2011-11-07T19:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T19:57:18.914+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;HOLA! K so i woke up at 5am to do the big walk (at crawling speed mind you) and now i have too much time on my hands! BAHAHA! On hindsight, I kinda have lots of research to do, but.... YOU KNOW.. ^^&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;So some random things that annoy the shit outta me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;1) Some girl posting some random sad heartbroken quote that goes something like this, 'Its so tiring to fake a smile just to get through the day' or some crap like this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Girl, EITHER YOU SMILE OR YOU NO SMILE. NOBODY ASK YOU TO FAKE RIGHT. Fine, lets just say you are soooooo bloody popular and everybody asks you wtf happened to you, just glare at them OR OR say 'Nothing. Lack of sleep.' That ought to shut them up.&lt;br /&gt;In the first place, you chose to FAKE a smile. Nobody asked you to. So, quit complaining. Doesn't hurt to TRY to actually smile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I can't even express how much i hate girls like that. Oh, to add on, girls like that tend to get showered with a lot of male attention when they post stuff like that. Especially if they are the typical girly girl. AND AND AND, you know whats the best part, THEM complaining about the male attention. -.- WHATS WRONG WITH YOU?&lt;br /&gt;P/S/ I'm not jealous. I just don't need that kinda attention from guys. I no like to appear as a damsel in distress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;2) &lt;img src="http://d24w6bsrhbeh9d.cloudfront.net/photo/496563_700b.jpg" alt="It hurts" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Things like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;DONT PRETEND TO LIKE LA! Lame. No it does not fucking hurt. Fine, maybe it does. But it just shows how horrible your supposed best friend is. TIME TO GET A NEW BEST FRIEND.&lt;br /&gt;If you didn't tell your friend that you had a crush on that guy, ITS YOUR FAULT. STAB YOURSELF INSTEAD OF ROLLING AROUND IN YOUR OWN TEARS. &amp;gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;Besides, its your CRUSH not boypren. It should fucking hurt if your bff stole your boyfriend. In which case, she should no longer be your friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;3) &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgba(147, 166, 68, 0.0976563); "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgba(147, 166, 68, 0.0976563); "&gt;When a girl is silent, she's either over-thinking, tired of waiting, falling apart, crying inside, or all of the above. Stuff like this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;To me, that statement above can be true. Sometimes. Most of the time when a girl is silent, she's either mad sleepy, has a sore throat, hates you, is so angry that no words can describe her anger.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why guys overthink. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;K thats about it. Sleepy. HAHAHA!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Comments above are made by a dude with long hair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-4542686628372996728?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/4542686628372996728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=4542686628372996728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4542686628372996728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4542686628372996728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/11/hola-k-so-i-woke-up-at-5am-to-do-big.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-1527615697160373707</id><published>2011-07-18T23:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T00:12:35.878+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kDMfph5RH7s/TiRViUJ4-gI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/rA1kiZQiZ38/s1600/tumblr_lmpgaskJkm1qarvg9o1_500.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 152px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kDMfph5RH7s/TiRViUJ4-gI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/rA1kiZQiZ38/s400/tumblr_lmpgaskJkm1qarvg9o1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630719482134067714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know, sometimes, k make it &lt;b&gt;MOST OF THE TIME&lt;/b&gt; I really hate my overactive imagination.&lt;br /&gt;Other than the fact that it affects my riding A LOT (that'd be an understatement), it can sort of affect my mood and make me all paranoid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anw, I've been thinking. How do you know whether you're in love? I'm not really sure whether I've blogged about this but whatever. -.-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Are you in love when you're so afraid of the other person leaving you? Is that love or insecurity? I saw a quote on tumblr some time back. It goes something like, '&lt;b&gt;You know you're in love when you see him talking to another girl and you're afraid that hes falling in love.'&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If it is, then I'm definitely in love. But i don't know. I really don't. Its like i am ALWAYS and i really mean ALWAYS, very afraid of losing you.&lt;br /&gt;I  don't know what has gotten into me. I am not usually like that. But the thing is, its like i am expecting the heartbreak. Prolly not anytime in the near future, but i get this feeling that its gonna happen. And the best part, I am gonna be the one witnessing the whole thing. &lt;b&gt;Like a retard.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really hope its just me being paranoid and all, and what i think is not gonna happen. Cause i forsee that i'll prolly be emo. Like for a  REALLY long time. And that is kinda rare. D:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It doesn't really help that I feel inadequate. Like I'm not good enough. K fine, you're prolly gonna say, ' No, you're not. You're fine.' Or something along those lines. But the thing is, you're saying it cause you're the settler, the better one in the relationship. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thats why i constantly say that we will not last, or that i keep asking you weird questions like, ' what if next time you go uni and then there is this sudden influx of girls and you suddenly don't like me anymore?' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I honestly don't like to ask all  these. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the thing is, I needed an assurance, that whatever that is playing on my mind like some sappy, melodramatic drama doesn't come true. And all i want, is just a definite answer. Not blaming you or scolding you or what, but half the time, you just go like, 'I don't know.' or 'won't la!' and look somewhere else or change the topic. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It hurts. It feels as if what i think doesn't matter. I don't like to constantly battle my inner thoughts. In fact, I HATE IT. (That'd be an understatement). All I want is a peace of mind. Like everybody else. I don't like to think. I hate thinking. Even when i read, i put myself into the shoes of the main character, and can really see what the character sees and feels.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It sucks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;K. I shall shut up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In conclusion (LOLOLOL), the tumblr quote is not true to a certain extent. I mean, for me, all those fear are just all my insecurities acting up. Nothing special.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-1527615697160373707?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/1527615697160373707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=1527615697160373707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1527615697160373707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1527615697160373707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/07/you-know-sometimes-k-make-it-most-of.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kDMfph5RH7s/TiRViUJ4-gI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/rA1kiZQiZ38/s72-c/tumblr_lmpgaskJkm1qarvg9o1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631344201295038250.post-2715226204976078131</id><published>2011-03-31T00:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T00:31:13.593+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>That is what most guys say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-2715226204976078131?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/2715226204976078131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=2715226204976078131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2715226204976078131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2715226204976078131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/03/that-is-what-most-guys-say.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-1596668743354924600</id><published>2011-03-29T02:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T03:23:29.500+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Hello.&lt;br /&gt;Verona told me that she chanced upon this woman's blog. She has cancer. I know that at this point you're gonna go, 'Oh.' and genuinely feel sad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;But, she is a mistress. She is the third party in a married man's life. That man, has 2 kids. And yes, the mistress, has cancer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(50, 50, 50); "  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(50, 50, 50); "  &gt;So, the question is, does this make what she does okay? Or rather, less mean.&lt;br /&gt;K, lets say, there is another woman from the other end of the hemisphere, who is perfectly healthy and all. And, she is a mistress. Most people will go like, 'EEW. SLUT.' Or something along those lines.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(50, 50, 50); "  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(50, 50, 50); "  &gt;Therefore, is it less mean for a woman with cancer to be a mistress?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(50, 50, 50); "  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I still think that she is still in the wrong. K, this may sound mean, (and suffer from retribution in future, but its okay cause i have a fambly history of cancer) but so what if you have cancer? It doesn't mean that it gives you the right to break up someone else's family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(50, 50, 50); "  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(50, 50, 50); "  &gt;To me, shes just using cancer to gain sympathy points. Seriously, why would anybody in the right mind tell the whole world that she is a mistress? In Singapore. Plus, according to Verona, she is actually recovering from the cancer. So things aren't actually that bad for her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;In her blog (According to Verona), there was this particular post where this woman wrote that there was once she and the guy had sex and she ask the guy to cum in her (obviously lying that she was on the pill.) so that she can get pregnant and at least give birth before she died. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Thing is, she is recovering. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I have no idea what to say about that. Lets just assume that she loves that guy (who probably doesn't love her), then i can only say that this is just another story to prove that love is blind.&lt;br /&gt;However, there is always another possibility that she is just garnering attention, to feed her unquenchable thirst for it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Now, can i say that most of you will agree with the former? That love is blind, because it is simply too mean to say that she wants attention. Mean because she has cancer? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Another point, she is madly pessimistic. She is recovering, yet she wants to give birth before she supposedly dies. (Which she assumes is kinda early) You could say that maybe she loves that guy so much so that she wants to have her kid. But, she didn't say anything about wanting to give birth FOR the guy. It was more for HERSELF. (At least verona didn't tell me anything about that) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Fine, say that what i say may be inaccurate cause i haven't read her blog. But still,  it is still her fault for being the other woman, Whether or not she truly loves the guy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;P.S.  I would read her blog, but Verona forgot the URL and i can't seem to find anything on google. But i did come across some depressing things about marriage. D: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;It is very depressing. And that, would be an understatement. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;P.S.S Imma go pester her for the URL. Cause i'm still thinking about the woman and what she actually wants to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;P.S.S.S I know the later part of this entry is not convincing. That'd be cause i was trying to google the blog and lost my train of thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-1596668743354924600?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/1596668743354924600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=1596668743354924600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1596668743354924600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1596668743354924600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/03/hello_29.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-235212950020423668</id><published>2011-03-21T22:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T23:04:02.864+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VjU65YA_HO4/TYdj-Ph863I/AAAAAAAAAJE/yd0bq0b3FN8/s1600/tumblr_l9n4crw4KR1qaz2fuo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VjU65YA_HO4/TYdj-Ph863I/AAAAAAAAAJE/yd0bq0b3FN8/s400/tumblr_l9n4crw4KR1qaz2fuo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586543783748365170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hello. I gave up on editing the codes. Lazy. Shall do it when i feel like it. WHICH IS NEVER! NYAHAHA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm having one of those i-have-no-fucking-idea-why-i'm-so-pissed/depressed-but-i-just-am kinda days. It sucks. Ugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, to make things worse, I cannot express myself. DEPRESSED4LYFE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like to think that I'm a sunshine girl and that i see the world through, yellow-colour glasses (cause i like yellow. And its a happy colour. LOL). But, that doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to have emo days.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I like rainbows, yellow, flowers, butterflies, colourful shit in general but that doesn't mean that i have to happy all year round. Like, there will always be both sunny and rainy days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;K i have no idea what im saying. LOL&lt;br /&gt;So i shall stop here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-235212950020423668?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/235212950020423668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=235212950020423668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/235212950020423668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/235212950020423668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2011/03/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VjU65YA_HO4/TYdj-Ph863I/AAAAAAAAAJE/yd0bq0b3FN8/s72-c/tumblr_l9n4crw4KR1qaz2fuo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631344201295038250.post-8048723804451254933</id><published>2010-12-05T01:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T01:40:21.557+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello! I have no idea why i keep saying hi/hello everytime i start a post. Its completely redundant yet absolutely necessary at the same time. Hmm. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, i dont really have anything to blog about in particular. I just feel like blogging. ._.&lt;br /&gt;I guess i've been stalking and bloghopping too much. So much so that it has kinda become a hobby. K, i sound so paedophilic, BUT ITS OKAY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18 years of my life, and i think i've pretty wasted it. I mean seriously, i haven't really done anything that an 18year old supposed to do. Like, I'VE NEVER STEPPED INTO A CLUB. K fine, just ONCE. But thats not really counted cause lewis was there. To me its not really considered clubbing if you go with your boyfriend. It kinda defeats the whole purpose. Not that i'm gonna go do something bad behind lewis's back, but its not fun if you're gonna go clubbing with your boyfriend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, back to my sad life. I can pretty much sum up everything i've done for the past 18years in like....5 words/phrases? (minus the things like eat and sleep)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Basically what i've done in 18 years is , study, look for awesome food everywhere, dream................................................................................................................................................&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ITS NOT EVEN 5 PHRASES OMGWTFXBBQ. ITS LIKE FUCKING THREE? And that, is how ridiculously, enormously, absolutely sad miserable and depressing my life is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i were to go on a talk show and the host asks me, 'So...what do you think you have done that makes your life awesome? '&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead of saying something like, OH I PARTY 5 TIMES A WEEK, GET FUCKED EVERY NOW AND THEN, TAKE 500 INSTAX WITH MY FRIENDS, GO ON HOLIDAYS WITH MY FAMILY, FALL IN LOVE, DO CRAZY STUPID SHIT EVERYWHERE LIKE WALK AROUND WITH A ST PAT'S DAY HAT ON CHINESE NEW YEAR....BLAH BLAH *RAMBLES ON AND ON*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would prolly go like, 'uhhh...*5 excruciating seconds of silence* uhhh... i think uhhh....my life is awesome cause i study about food, my job allows me to draw, uhhhh.....China glaze nail polish is actually kinda cheap uhhhh...sleeping in on weekends....uhhh....' &lt;-- K LETS JUST STOP THERE. Its not even worth continuing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Im turning NINETEEN soon and i suddenly feel that i've wasted my whole life doing absolutely BORING-ASS stuff. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kinda like to blame this on the fact that ever since i started dating, which is in sec 1, the longest period of time i've been single is like ONE BLOODY WEEK? Like seriously?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not that im saying that lewis is a horrible bf or that im really miserable in the relationship, but lately, i've been thinking how things could have been if i stayed single for a longer time. Maybe, just maybe, i would have more time for myself instead of constantly thinking of my boyfriend or something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe this is why i dont like people to send me home. At least on the way home, i get some time alone, time all to myself. And this i probably why i LOVE long bus rides home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont think this is just another emo moment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is like this sudden revelation that things could have been better if i didn't crave for attention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P/S To squishy, dont worry. Its not your fault. Im just thinking. (By the time you read this, i would have forgotten all about this. HAHA)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-8048723804451254933?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/8048723804451254933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=8048723804451254933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8048723804451254933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8048723804451254933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/12/hello-i-have-no-idea-why-i-keep-saying.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-4535888640436127260</id><published>2010-09-06T23:06:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T23:22:02.252+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What is your problem and hiding things from me? If its work-related, then fine. That i understand.&lt;div&gt;But seriously, why the hell were you so reluctant to tell me the girl's name? Does it matter whether i know her or not?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The world is small. I'm bound to find out whether it be 5days, 5months or hell, even 50years down the road, i'll find out someday. Nobody can ever hide anything forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;K fine. You say it'd be awkward. So? Do I look like some crazy-ass bitch who'd stalk her? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lets say i do know her. Does it matter? I bet she'd be avoiding me like crazy even before i knew.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so maybe this topic's a lil touchy. Tell me, why the fuck was it so difficult to tell me who you're meeting later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; You said friend. So, i asked, who. Natural reaction right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And guessed what you say. 'you dont know one la!'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So fine, i thought maybe i dont really know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then, like a good half an hour later, you proceed to ANNOUNCE in front of everybody at tbs that you're supposed to be meeting SEAN to play basketball. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DO I NOT KNOW SEAN?! Wtf.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tell me, why the fuck should i divulge who i'm out with when you don't even wanna tell me things? Next i'm meeting someone, I'll just go like, 'i'm meeting my friend. You dont know one. '&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tell me how'd you feel then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Should i believe what you say next time? Hmm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I bet when you read this, you'll go like 'when i told you im meeting sean?!!' or something along that line for the sean part. And then about the girl part, you'll start to tell me about some loooong-ass story. Yeap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-4535888640436127260?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/4535888640436127260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=4535888640436127260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4535888640436127260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4535888640436127260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/09/what-is-your-problem-and-hiding-things.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-83276741612056350</id><published>2010-09-03T01:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-03T01:31:00.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p7J2RzzMrr0/TH_cEDQkBDI/AAAAAAAAAI0/ijdMPkSvMNU/s1600/tumblr_l84691GyOf1qze11co1_500.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p7J2RzzMrr0/TH_cEDQkBDI/AAAAAAAAAI0/ijdMPkSvMNU/s400/tumblr_l84691GyOf1qze11co1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512366431077139506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay. Maybe this picture's kinda small. But still can see what! &lt;div&gt;I just realised, that if you were like some crazy girl/guy who's madly in love, you wouldn't have noticed the '....and maybe at one point we'll get tired of each other....' part.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I noticed though. ._.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know people say that you truly love someone when they leave a gaping hole in your heart once they leave? What happens if there are too many in yours, that there is no space for another one? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-83276741612056350?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/83276741612056350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=83276741612056350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/83276741612056350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/83276741612056350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/09/okay.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p7J2RzzMrr0/TH_cEDQkBDI/AAAAAAAAAI0/ijdMPkSvMNU/s72-c/tumblr_l84691GyOf1qze11co1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631344201295038250.post-3131315060109752439</id><published>2010-08-31T23:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T00:06:58.202+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm. I was in my dad's car when he went past this..this.. condo in the midst of construction. And the place is called The Foliage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously. The FOLIAGE?! Its a bloody BUILDING for god's sake. Even if you plant like 500000 different species of plants, it will never, ever, ever be considered FOLIAGE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is WITH condos having weird names. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;K la. Maybe just to make the condo sound atas. But at least give some weird name that nobody understands la! Like The....blue window or The...something.&lt;br /&gt;HAIYA. AT MOST JUST CALL THEM, Awesome condo, Awesome condo 2. THE awesome condo. THE awesomest condo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-3131315060109752439?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/3131315060109752439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=3131315060109752439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3131315060109752439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3131315060109752439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/08/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-507359692312733317</id><published>2010-08-25T23:43:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T23:50:02.620+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What's the point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-507359692312733317?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/507359692312733317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=507359692312733317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/507359692312733317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/507359692312733317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/08/whats-point.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-4237670677746405778</id><published>2010-08-03T23:10:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T23:25:16.369+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today, marks the day where mistrust, insecurity, paranoia and accusations will start. And it'd be all my fault as usual. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;Now you know why they all leave. &lt;div&gt;I think you would too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-4237670677746405778?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/4237670677746405778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=4237670677746405778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4237670677746405778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4237670677746405778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/08/today-marks-day-where-mistrust.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-5898562599948851498</id><published>2010-07-27T23:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T23:31:23.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>why the secrecy? &gt;:(&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I understand the reason behind it, but I don't know why it affects me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kk I'm just being sensitive yet again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-5898562599948851498?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/5898562599948851498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=5898562599948851498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5898562599948851498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5898562599948851498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/07/why-secrecy-kk-im-just-being-sensitive.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-2343257307458059999</id><published>2010-07-21T00:42:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T01:14:59.048+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I dare not look far, for I am afraid. You may ask whats there to fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am afraid that I may be wrong, that in the end, everything's gonna be the same. I am not afraid of being hurt, I'm just scared that I may hurt another.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-2343257307458059999?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/2343257307458059999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=2343257307458059999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2343257307458059999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2343257307458059999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-dare-not-look-far-for-i-am-afraid.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-3263482497679811170</id><published>2010-07-19T00:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T01:01:08.514+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello. I'm here again and I'm not emo or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was thinking about what growing up meant to me in my dad's car a few days back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, heres my two cents worth of crap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To me, growing up doesn't mean you must have a change in character. Growing up means that the kid in you has died. As in literally. When you no longer believe in things that you used to. You could try, but at the back of your mind, a little voice will tell you that it doesn't exist. For example, magic. I try to tell myself that magic exists and i can actually teleport into some dino land through a magical polka dotted chocolate egg.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;haiya. i forgot rdy. &gt;:(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-3263482497679811170?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/3263482497679811170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=3263482497679811170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3263482497679811170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3263482497679811170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/07/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-8301439758099711673</id><published>2010-07-09T00:12:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T00:40:05.448+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hi. &lt;div&gt;My back hurts like fuck. I can't help getting really paranoid about this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean, I'm paranoid by nature so...i dont know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everytime i take a deep breath, like really deep breath, my lower back actually hurts. You know when your shoulders hurt and you get a really lousy massage that kinda pain? Yeah, something like that. Otherwise, I just feel this throbbing pain. So bloody uncomfortable. I can't find a proper sleeping position. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just lost my train of though. &gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, blogging material gone. Stupid back pain. Imma try to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-8301439758099711673?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/8301439758099711673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=8301439758099711673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8301439758099711673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8301439758099711673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/07/hi.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-8214966640411942771</id><published>2010-07-03T00:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-03T00:21:28.269+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>wth la cheryl. Just what the fuck is wrong with you?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need a break.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-8214966640411942771?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/8214966640411942771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=8214966640411942771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8214966640411942771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8214966640411942771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/07/wth-la-cheryl.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-6538415138736765760</id><published>2010-07-02T00:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T00:35:47.707+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hello world.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I actually have a shitload of things i wanna say here, but i', too tired.&lt;br /&gt;And therefore i shall sleepzx. Soon-ish.&lt;br /&gt;(Btw, I hate the stupid jagged red line everytime i type some word thats not in chrome's dictionary. &gt;:( )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, why the hell am I here typing this redundant nonsense? I have no idea actually. I just felt compelled to. HAHA!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, i manage to find that girl's blog. Im such an awesome stalker.&lt;br /&gt;Other than the fact that shes pretty immature still, her life isnt THAT awesome actually. I don't really blame her for being like that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shes immature yet sensible. At least she knows what shes doing aint right. In fact, she sounds kinda nice. Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm, first impressions do stick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can get through this tough part.&lt;br /&gt;(sounds kinda weird coming from me, but i do mean it)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Imma blog about proper stuff another time. Sleepeh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-6538415138736765760?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/6538415138736765760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=6538415138736765760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/6538415138736765760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/6538415138736765760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/07/hello-world.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-4799884866061304835</id><published>2010-06-24T00:20:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T00:36:12.326+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Pissy. Extremely pissy. HMPF.&lt;br /&gt;Like seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I shall just rant here. AGAIN. As usual. (Cheryl is pretty predictable actually. NYAHAHA)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I look older nao. LIKE people bloody think I'm at LEAST 19. WTFBBQXZXZXZXZ.&lt;br /&gt;And you know why?! Cause I'm dark nao. And my hair colour goes under the '101 ways to chao lao'. Thanks ah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) School is starting. T.T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) WHY THE &lt;a href="mailto:!@#@$"&gt;!@#@$&lt;/a&gt; AM I ALWAYS POSTED AT KOVAN?! I HATE KOVAN. SO BLOODY BORING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I have yet to watch my Nightmare on Elm Street. &gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-4799884866061304835?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/4799884866061304835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=4799884866061304835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4799884866061304835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/4799884866061304835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/pissy.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-8753113008332493864</id><published>2010-06-22T17:33:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T17:33:34.493+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Grow up boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-8753113008332493864?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/8753113008332493864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=8753113008332493864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8753113008332493864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8753113008332493864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/grow-up-boy.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-2278222899090892893</id><published>2010-06-22T00:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T00:07:46.089+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hello. I'm so tired I'm gonna die. T.T&lt;br /&gt;My dream of rotting at home for at least 2 days during the hols is dashed. So busy I'm gonna die too. In other words, I'm gonna die anyway. HAHA.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;K random. I'm just posting this so that maybe in lets say... 1 years's time I'll read this and laugh at how lousy my time management skills are. nyahaha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-2278222899090892893?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/2278222899090892893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=2278222899090892893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2278222899090892893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2278222899090892893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-6372724342000446412</id><published>2010-06-21T01:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T01:26:36.385+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hmm. Okay another random most probably really stupid thing I've been thinking about for the past...5 mins.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lets see. I think the main difference between kids and us (other than physical differences) is that, adolescents/adults/whatever don't ever forgive anybody. ( not that easily at least )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like for example, when you're a kid right and your friend snatches your lego bricks away from you, at the most you would like snatch your lego bricks back, say 'I DON'T FRIEND YOU ANYMORE! *gives angry pouty face.' and start throwing lego bricks at your friend so that you can make him/her cry.  (And, I am leaving out the possibility of crying and throwing a tantrum.)&lt;br /&gt;After the whole saga thing where you don't talk to your friend for like maybe a day, the next day you're friends again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now lets just change the whole scenario shall we? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm. Lets say your friend says some really weird shit about you behind your back (that everybody's gonna forget in a matter of days) and you found out. Chances are, you're gonna hate/dislike your friend for like maybe the few months/years/forever. But, being superficial, you're prolly gonna pretend to be friends with that person and bitch about them behind their back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;HMM. WHY IS THAT SO?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;P/S All the examples i give are based on...on random stuff and personal experiences. HAHA. So, its okay if it doesn't make sense.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-6372724342000446412?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/6372724342000446412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=6372724342000446412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/6372724342000446412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/6372724342000446412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/hmm.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-5094148705009256615</id><published>2010-06-20T16:46:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T16:49:20.701+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You, make me laugh. Not everything revolves around you.&lt;br /&gt;But oh well, thanks for making a fool out of yourself. LOL. You're EXACTLY like her, its so funny. HAHAHAHA! Made my day btw.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-5094148705009256615?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/5094148705009256615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=5094148705009256615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5094148705009256615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5094148705009256615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/you-make-me-laugh.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-2372324885673080486</id><published>2010-06-20T01:54:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T01:58:30.047+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think i'm not made to be angry. Two reasons.&lt;div&gt;1) My anger does not last THAT long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) Just before I say something really like...idk...when I'm pissed, my head always like spins for a moment. As if its a warning that i might regret saying it. HAHA. Seriously.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;k. i shall not get angry for  no reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-2372324885673080486?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/2372324885673080486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=2372324885673080486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2372324885673080486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/2372324885673080486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-think-im-not-made-to-be-angry.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-5779502390870482000</id><published>2010-06-20T01:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T01:34:15.905+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not worth my time anymore'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I shall electrocute your ballz. You, disappoint me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-5779502390870482000?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/5779502390870482000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=5779502390870482000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5779502390870482000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/5779502390870482000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-shall-electrocute-your-ballz.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-1394878054692835266</id><published>2010-06-18T00:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T23:39:00.286+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M BLOGGING AGAIN. I think. ._.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, my wisdom's tooth growing. I think. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Which means im getting wiser. MWAAHAHAHA! K whatever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, i miss you. DIE. T.T&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-1394878054692835266?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/1394878054692835266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=1394878054692835266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1394878054692835266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1394878054692835266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-cant-believe-im-blogging-again.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-8389600497185167520</id><published>2010-06-15T14:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T14:13:27.644+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why is that when we're young we wanna grow up so quickly? And when we get older, we don't want to stay young?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like when i was 5 or something, i used to tell me my mum. ' I want to be an adult! Cause adult means no need to study then everyday can wear home clothes. '&lt;br /&gt;And my mum would go like, ' HAHAHAHA! You want go to work for what! Study better. '&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, when I got older, maybe like around 14-16 (?) I told someone (i forgot who) that i don't want to grow up.  I mean like, why would you wanna grow up Being an adult means you have to make your own decisions, deal with ridiculous people like backstabbers all. Look out for yourself and deal with matters of the heart which, imo is completely overrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I still think what my mum says is true. Mum : Your ex-boyfriend can never be your friend one la! Ex means got problem ready right! You think become friends then no more problem ah? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People come, people go. HAHA! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OH! I think I know why I am slightly more nice than the general Singaporean.&lt;br /&gt;I remember that when i was young, my auntie asked me, ' So how? What do you wanna be when you grow up? '&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : A good person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the best part, I tried to be one till....idk when. Till it was too late for me to change i guess. LOL. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-8389600497185167520?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/8389600497185167520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=8389600497185167520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8389600497185167520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8389600497185167520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/why-is-that-when-were-young-we-wanna.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-1575213072071690357</id><published>2010-06-14T00:06:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T00:49:33.949+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Once again, some sucker just proved that it never pays to be nice. *round of applause*&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should start hating. Like you right? ( if you happen to be reading this, which you never will, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. HAHA! ) &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, what do I get from hating hmm? Nothing actually. Other than the fact that everybody will think that im some bitter bitch who cant get over things. Sure, there will definitely be people who will sympathise and go AWWWWW relax okay? Things will get better. How long would that last? A few months at the most. After that, everybody would just think that im a bitter bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Back to the point. WHY SHOULD I HATE WHEN EVERYBODY WANTS TO STOP HATING RIGHT? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) Why should i not when some fucking bitch comes and shoves her unappreciated comments (imo only) in my face. When i say immature, i really mean immature. Quote from zh : ' Girl, finish your o levels then come and talk to me okay?'  Don't think you got some hokkien vulgar and you actually look kinda cute, you can come kp me. I know more than you do little girl. Don't come act mature. I mean, GO AND FUCKING LOOK AT YOUR EMAIL ADD MAN. Childish ttm. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Btw, didnt anybody teach you how NOT to judge people if you dont know them? Stupid girl. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you dont know shit about love. CONFIRM. People who know what love is are objective and actually know whats a CONVERSATION. A conversation between you and me means the both of us get to talk. Which means its supposed to be 2-sided. WHICH means that YOU are supposed to be hearing my side of the story. English fail or what. Oh wait. I bet you did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Refers to facebook status* ' If i know how to pick this RUBBISH up, I know how to THROW it away.' COME ON LA. I know you want to save the earth all, but seriously. You pick up rubbish of course throw la! Then what? Keep in your bag meh? Stupid girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Best is you have to remind everybody to throw the rubbish they PICKED UP. You think everybody like you ah. Pick rubbish up and keep in your bag.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) Why shouldnt I, when some FUCKER accuses me of things i did not do. And you know all this bullshit about you not being able to forgive me cause i hurt you. Fuck you. It takes 2 hands to clap. You were fine BEFORE i got attached. What right do you have to hate me, when YOU told me you got over me within like 2 days of the breakup? HMM? BET YOU DIDNT SAY THAT TO PEOPLE RIGHT? Even if you did,  it will go like, 'oh. I want her to move on ma.'&lt;br /&gt;Well, FUCK YOU AGAIN. I moved on, and here you are bad-mouthing me behind my back and twisting the story in your favour? Play fair my dear. I was the one who respected you in that convo. I could have said so much to mar your perfect little image in front of your darling. I didnt. You know, maybe i should have. Cause you did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Respect? You dont know shit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you know how to PICK UP RUBBISH and THROW IT AWAY instead of keeping it in your bag.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OH BTW, your rubbish doesnt mean it is everybody's rubbish. Your rubbish can be someone else's treasure.&lt;br /&gt;Nuff' said. Later the post too long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) I can fully express myself when i hate to the fullest potential and when im angry enough. ( K english fail )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy only. All angst gone.&lt;br /&gt;P/S I do hope that you actually read this and ask all your girl's ahlian friends come beat me. HAHA! I dont care whether you re offended or not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause,  I realise, i was equally stupid to cry for you. Dont think everything's all about you okay?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-1575213072071690357?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/1575213072071690357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=1575213072071690357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1575213072071690357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/1575213072071690357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/once-again-some-sucker-just-proved-that.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-3505184705992367180</id><published>2010-06-13T02:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T02:52:01.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am afraid. Of losing faith.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-3505184705992367180?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/3505184705992367180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=3505184705992367180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3505184705992367180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3505184705992367180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-am-afraid.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-7475187679571275975</id><published>2010-06-13T02:32:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T02:37:27.207+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Things I need to learn.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) To be harsh.&lt;br /&gt;2) How NOT to forgive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) Not lie. ( 3.9/4 done)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4) To forgive but not forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5) How to express myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6) To be less nice.&lt;br /&gt;7) To be less nice.&lt;br /&gt;8) To be less nice.&lt;br /&gt;9) To be less nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10) To be less nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6-10, virtually impossible. T.T&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-7475187679571275975?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/7475187679571275975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=7475187679571275975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/7475187679571275975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/7475187679571275975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/things-i-need-to-learn.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-8721140677527692685</id><published>2010-06-06T16:47:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T16:47:15.579+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>heartache.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-8721140677527692685?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/8721140677527692685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=8721140677527692685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8721140677527692685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/8721140677527692685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/06/heartache.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</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-3631344201295038250.post-3866734249585428223</id><published>2010-05-23T20:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T21:38:47.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i have this fear of turning into her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631344201295038250-3866734249585428223?l=cheryl-ish.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/feeds/3866734249585428223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3631344201295038250&amp;postID=3866734249585428223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3866734249585428223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631344201295038250/posts/default/3866734249585428223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cheryl-ish.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-have-this-fear-of-turning-into-her.html' title=''/><author><name>CHERYL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04008455707298747093</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
