tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182030353070293592024-02-19T17:54:30.026-08:00Dear John, until then I will just love you secretly.Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.comBlogger181125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-33045217131356514272011-02-01T03:36:00.000-08:002011-02-01T03:43:24.245-08:00Leaching<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBxgTySCAoaHiPQ-3zOBmyRhrPPLlIUuTB8o0PC1cdYKtdTg_vxhn4JeU7-QSCBj67Dg2_gVw5qMdnPIqmaXVh9j6gu5AnETWTxtCxoy_iAHUAW8lHa7FEr6Vhj3GQ9ChdYrL4O6y3fUE/s1600/a8c5636adcf7e5db9bd5301851b5b4b3e77.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBxgTySCAoaHiPQ-3zOBmyRhrPPLlIUuTB8o0PC1cdYKtdTg_vxhn4JeU7-QSCBj67Dg2_gVw5qMdnPIqmaXVh9j6gu5AnETWTxtCxoy_iAHUAW8lHa7FEr6Vhj3GQ9ChdYrL4O6y3fUE/s400/a8c5636adcf7e5db9bd5301851b5b4b3e77.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568685010899394242" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear John,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Just because you're (semi) famous and you've got a massive willy, doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you in the toilet. I bet you knew this was a sex club all along, you sleazy little snake.</span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-48999432602434560902011-01-17T01:55:00.000-08:002011-01-17T02:00:22.715-08:00Grenada<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvUsKfu7RLXw_h9s749OpDJfg1fF_xxKEKPuwdMHHCXtb088j8Ans6vJrmu9OLcHy8Ijub13CYRF_uMSVnBKLprclknFyRW3SFHjXPw3_G-505h2lA2Kz_NUY6_oa-LzEY_dLMd3aoOg/s1600/tumblr_l27rhhNWvY1qa42jro1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvUsKfu7RLXw_h9s749OpDJfg1fF_xxKEKPuwdMHHCXtb088j8Ans6vJrmu9OLcHy8Ijub13CYRF_uMSVnBKLprclknFyRW3SFHjXPw3_G-505h2lA2Kz_NUY6_oa-LzEY_dLMd3aoOg/s400/tumblr_l27rhhNWvY1qa42jro1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563092507576186130" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div>Jane,</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>We wanted to meet last night<br />We picked Grenada<br />Got arrested for kissing in public<br />Shared a jail cell<br />We didn't care because we were together<br />Broke out of prison with a file that I smuggled while you were lookout<br />Ending up laying in a square hammock<br />You were beautiful<br /><br />-John</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-89874836446842150892011-01-07T07:27:00.000-08:002011-01-07T07:42:13.741-08:00Ex-patriated<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8iH4uTWvvDqIEC6BF9mEIgtlffe9ED336LiR3ZGR2Ahs0PEFLIrRLhoUOKwIme99wxw8Sa2yfTXAJGvHlf97KDogu1lEHI_MwNg7qSw5-t38istRSkUwC37-Am3Eb3HI9kM597ZobD8/s1600/selleckmagnum.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 323px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8iH4uTWvvDqIEC6BF9mEIgtlffe9ED336LiR3ZGR2Ahs0PEFLIrRLhoUOKwIme99wxw8Sa2yfTXAJGvHlf97KDogu1lEHI_MwNg7qSw5-t38istRSkUwC37-Am3Eb3HI9kM597ZobD8/s400/selleckmagnum.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559469716051871778" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear South Africa,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Thanks for exporting John beyond your national boundaries. He makes my heart skip too many beats, and I fear it might result in my untimely death. If this happens, be a dear and tell my mother it was Ireland's fault.</span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-90259394651552749682011-01-07T04:21:00.000-08:002011-01-07T04:24:39.070-08:00Atrophied<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKMMCOef6DOJIkLBCg_RdyZ-neXnYrSzShZdLkb7IcNtNbace2_PTJYR8Dq3tvUOdswOeifPQeGWvfZ-QcZnLXu19elmhIEZxNKDNYaDiUnrFa1TuZzhpU3Bc8Qa59me4YwVWiQFotC4/s1600/lara+stone+by+MARIO+SORRENTI.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKMMCOef6DOJIkLBCg_RdyZ-neXnYrSzShZdLkb7IcNtNbace2_PTJYR8Dq3tvUOdswOeifPQeGWvfZ-QcZnLXu19elmhIEZxNKDNYaDiUnrFa1TuZzhpU3Bc8Qa59me4YwVWiQFotC4/s400/lara+stone+by+MARIO+SORRENTI.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559418838159062834" /></a><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div>Dear John,</div><br />I don't know if I was being kind or cruel by letting you down so easily, although I'm sure that you would by no means describe my decision as one made with kindness. I say kind because I believe I successfully led you to accept that I thoughtd it was our relationship that was flawed, not either of us, and cruel because, well, our relationship ultimately was unsustainable as a result of your stunted emotional maturity. And by not being completely blunt, I may be allowing you to hold on to the feelings I know you still have for me, instead of seeing me as a cold, heartless bitch.<br /><br />Oh, and things in the bedroom weren't very exciting, either. And they only happened in the bedroom, which is also a problem. But I digress.<br /><br />We all use each other, but I definitely used you. For stability, affection, to feel lovable. In hindsight, I realize it's been a long, long time since I was very interested in you. I began to feel like I was dying inside, yet tried to label it as the effects of adulthood and maturity. While I realize that those are the hallmarks of many a person's development, I don't want them for myself.<br /><br />I don't want a superficial life, and that's what I was destined to have with you, the man who was unable to carry a conversation during dinner.<br /><br />I want passion, and change, and fits of laughter that leave you breathless. I want more.<br /><br />And somehow, surprisingly, unexpectedly, I found a man who wants more, too. I don't know if it's going to last, and frankly, I couldn't care less right now. It just feels pretty awesome to be this comfortable with this person who drives me as crazy as I make him.<br /><br />I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm not sorry I left you. I hope you fall in love again soon.<br /><br />Detachedly,<br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Jane</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-39107045087414066582011-01-07T04:16:00.000-08:002011-01-07T07:25:45.454-08:00Different kind of love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4WYpR9AspKbaZ3niMBqNvFp5lPohShiMDUCOjEaaEBgI-NOlE-untXAK3cXKJLJZwKbLY8XMH80szVNRau4uDzTw7NX5k6yrXitxdTJS3rgWK7u9lvMmWXvKnpf1teDgeYEXfw2Re84/s1600/ZXWEjgG0Pk1l8q6j7CYa5Gmno1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4WYpR9AspKbaZ3niMBqNvFp5lPohShiMDUCOjEaaEBgI-NOlE-untXAK3cXKJLJZwKbLY8XMH80szVNRau4uDzTw7NX5k6yrXitxdTJS3rgWK7u9lvMmWXvKnpf1teDgeYEXfw2Re84/s400/ZXWEjgG0Pk1l8q6j7CYa5Gmno1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559417860295396530" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>dear john,<br /><br />i wanted to write this letter to you on new year's eve, but as it came out you made a truce with me. i was not expecting this to happen, so i decided to write this letter as a symbol of me ending everything with you. unfortunately (or fortunately) it all came out quite well. but i still have a lot of sorrow in me because of you, so i want to express it now.<br /><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">i am aware of the fact that you were strongly in love with me once. and i also know that i broke your heart. even though i gave you a chance it didn't work out. but i'm sure that you know that i really loved you. i loved you as a friend, as a person. i'm sorry that i wasn't able to find the love you needed from me in my heart, but there was no way i could have. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">i'm only sorry about the way that you handled the situation later. being sad and sick at heart like you claimed you were does not allow you to treat me this way. treat me like a whore, use my devotion to you just to get me to bed. or later on use my drunkenness to do the same. is that what a man in love does? if yes then i want no more men, if no - what were you thinking? and everything later, your harsh words, your gossip about me and also making your new friends against me? what was that?! i can't believe you're the same person which i've known. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">in the beginning i cried probably every night, also at daytime. i cried when i saw your photos, i cried when i heard songs which somehow related to all of this, i cried when i saw you, i cried when i heard about you. you were my first best best best best male friend. i regret a lot of things, but i will never regret the friendship that we had, even though it ended up with me being emotionally dead.<br /><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">i do love you, i always will. but i will never try to speak about this to you. i will try to stay away as far as i can, given the acquaintance between me and your friends.<br /><br />and i am truly sorry, for all the bad i might have done to you.<br />goodbye, soulmate</span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-15637731131661509042011-01-07T04:11:00.000-08:002011-01-07T04:15:57.359-08:00Lost in Translation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomx5C5FcxHc-OYTsDOgJ3oiDYNG-cBGjUNh554BjLEvMg9TmdY55RxZdDTJ6uHviPglPczqc-iQAO7uJbDXFhk_WrnVQPVs_z4CVhX8pzsuTBkNKas0QzpKHj7GVo6LpcSZCLUkyZ4Ko/s1600/mapplethorpe_002.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 380px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomx5C5FcxHc-OYTsDOgJ3oiDYNG-cBGjUNh554BjLEvMg9TmdY55RxZdDTJ6uHviPglPczqc-iQAO7uJbDXFhk_WrnVQPVs_z4CVhX8pzsuTBkNKas0QzpKHj7GVo6LpcSZCLUkyZ4Ko/s400/mapplethorpe_002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559416599176024722" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>John Darling,<br /><br />I read a book today called Bad Marie. It reminded me of you. I wish I could read it to you, word for word, and watch your reaction. I wonder what connections you'd make, and if they would be the same as mine. The thing is that they probably wouldn't be. You wouldn't understand what I was saying as usual, even though the words aren't even exactly mine. It's like you don't even understand pure English. But that's what we are and forever will be-lost in translation.</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-27816924787235355182010-12-18T13:58:00.000-08:002010-12-18T14:04:33.027-08:00All/Nothing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimWpUduGi7GC9syy9yQvF1MWXubOpzysQFG_6QA5iPqK2Rxi9koGSOFSzZY6WcV1-vVGAi-WST2vxxxYNVfait5timOoP-Luuq37CWtw7SdrQdfdK96Nf6vnnZTO4-OmrkAjObWXSkEh0/s1600/tumblr_l7mmet5MLl1qaeq21o1_500.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimWpUduGi7GC9syy9yQvF1MWXubOpzysQFG_6QA5iPqK2Rxi9koGSOFSzZY6WcV1-vVGAi-WST2vxxxYNVfait5timOoP-Luuq37CWtw7SdrQdfdK96Nf6vnnZTO4-OmrkAjObWXSkEh0/s400/tumblr_l7mmet5MLl1qaeq21o1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552146517377179730" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dear John,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I wish I knew better how to follow my heart rather than my head. I don't want to be with anyone else, but I'm scared it's just too much too quickly. You're too amazing, and I'm scared that I'll screw it all up.</span></div></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-60865427603984470442010-12-15T16:45:00.000-08:002010-12-15T16:50:15.562-08:00Grow<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8caiFKGXeAY?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8caiFKGXeAY?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div>Come to me, my darling. I am not afraid.</i><div><i>Please forgive my often solitary ways.</i></div><div><i>Its not that I don't want to</i></div><div><i>Its just that then, I'll never be the same</i></div><div><i>So come to me my darling.</i></div><div><i>And help me put aside my age</i></div><div><i>I can feel it falling</i></div><div><i>Through my hands</i></div><div><i>But I am not afraid.</i></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-42413539176470117322010-12-10T10:24:00.000-08:002010-12-10T10:27:32.504-08:00Romeu e Julieta<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2jzaJECEzkfIY96foV0bkfIJYsSJ-H9BnAn2cxPzlZOCFwmUZG_bOYYMFHXg20se1uKlHVcUcZ5QbMkNevC4CBxKR4kyTHzLHR2GxBCNMJyLZ-k87Lm3ZRuHqDqP-8eCNnaVL2hiF10/s1600/tumblr_l7wxzz4Wl61qa1hjfo1_500.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2jzaJECEzkfIY96foV0bkfIJYsSJ-H9BnAn2cxPzlZOCFwmUZG_bOYYMFHXg20se1uKlHVcUcZ5QbMkNevC4CBxKR4kyTHzLHR2GxBCNMJyLZ-k87Lm3ZRuHqDqP-8eCNnaVL2hiF10/s400/tumblr_l7wxzz4Wl61qa1hjfo1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549121681238399330" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Lay,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /><span><span>Se Romeu e Julieta fossem reais, estariam lá no céu, torcendo pelo amor da gente. Espero ter causado uma boa impressão à sua mãe, e que ela tenha gostado de mim. Você já sabe que EU TE AMO com todas as minhas forças, e não vou deixar isso morrer. E Matheus, aquele maldito Tebaldo/Páris, Chato, Pedra no meu sapato, eu prometo que nunca vou te deixar ter motivos pra me deixar e ficar com ele. Nem você quer isso. eu sei que você também gosta de mim. Beijo na Boca. Desse carinha que agora descobriu que o coração não se engana e Que<br />ama a Lay. John.<br />_I ♥ I_</span></span></span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-22973747761429177052010-12-07T19:02:00.000-08:002010-12-07T19:25:16.412-08:00Those Special Two Words<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8ZdG94O3trSogIMSNODhOGkJ0V6PyufX1FnStm5RoPe9UUQ6leHkUAGgAbJdT8Po0pp9932lRWqcOKrSxooaumhYKwstbEIGW-ox2UhWgtESURtWR8noAR0rUQY2EbytomuyHn3GtFg/s1600/tumblr_lcyv32FYTZ1qcbx4yo1_500_large.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8ZdG94O3trSogIMSNODhOGkJ0V6PyufX1FnStm5RoPe9UUQ6leHkUAGgAbJdT8Po0pp9932lRWqcOKrSxooaumhYKwstbEIGW-ox2UhWgtESURtWR8noAR0rUQY2EbytomuyHn3GtFg/s400/tumblr_lcyv32FYTZ1qcbx4yo1_500_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548147248241651554" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Dear Johnny Don Juany,<br /><br />What a massive waste of time you were. The three words that I thought I could say to you have now been reduced to two:<br />fuck you!</span></span></span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-28431364352694708262010-12-02T08:22:00.000-08:002010-12-02T08:24:31.891-08:00Missed Connections<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q_vK4wLapIJCob89IqukoPH1nIMWGiZysFhJ8sbIkrQ49Ta_hLD2sFj2289tcvFXQ-e0RpIHkkAjtLQcAKXeNnbaCxdwtfVqG7ex6Lw6EwT97GWhGuKBSnv305JNn4qwzvf8_IU2AmQ/s1600/IMG_1339.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q_vK4wLapIJCob89IqukoPH1nIMWGiZysFhJ8sbIkrQ49Ta_hLD2sFj2289tcvFXQ-e0RpIHkkAjtLQcAKXeNnbaCxdwtfVqG7ex6Lw6EwT97GWhGuKBSnv305JNn4qwzvf8_IU2AmQ/s400/IMG_1339.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546121501105163922" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear John,<br /><br />Will you please call me? I do hope you have my number. As, I was a dick and accidentally deleted your number. And, I can't find you on because we didn't even exchange last names. I want to see you again.<br />And, to everyone else, if you know him please tell him to call the small asian girl he met at Amika.<br /><br />Love,<br />Jane</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-89168138786443987692010-11-22T13:59:00.000-08:002010-11-22T14:01:39.746-08:00Relationship Advice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbYhNB7FxMNsFnBTk7A1okZ4T-rl59hJb0b7GqEpLfXxQ1ww4ObKITpfiWBltRzjjSbsalZxLAsZxM-J6OdBzaMl6dSh6sojREocXaNVqK14hKMHtjpD8-O7fI9BmmlEYdcGhZ4UtSyM/s1600/Horse_Love__by_braindead_revolution.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbYhNB7FxMNsFnBTk7A1okZ4T-rl59hJb0b7GqEpLfXxQ1ww4ObKITpfiWBltRzjjSbsalZxLAsZxM-J6OdBzaMl6dSh6sojREocXaNVqK14hKMHtjpD8-O7fI9BmmlEYdcGhZ4UtSyM/s400/Horse_Love__by_braindead_revolution.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542497607557481314" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>My Dear Brother from another Mother, First n Foremost<br /><br />What can I say but ...O baby...o baby...O BABY<br /><br />Ah, the heart. That little fuck pump that leads us astray. It has reasons of which reason knows nothing of. It clouds our minds, smokes up our vision...which is all eventually cleared up by it's mortal enemy: The Brain. The heart is but the horse, the brain is it's reins. Beware if the two unite, it paints a picture of reality. But that is rarely seen, especially in rideless horses like ourselves who fancy the pretty mares in the pen but just swish our tails, swatting away the flies. While some small time PONY takes them away with false promises of a big dick and starry skies leaving us STALLIONS to bite the dust and curse our luck while Fat King KKG (Kismat Ka Gandu) slaps his thigh laughing. Humph! Sometimes I think that picture of reality is painted with horse shit.<br /><br />But YOU, my Gujrati stallion, should know that the mare you thought was flirtatiously swishing her tail at you was actually just taking a dump. There's a reason you didn't go up to her like the ponies do...you could smell the shit. If there wasn't any shit, you'd have smelt some fragrance and would have gone galloping to her even without being whipped. Such stuff is automatic...the horse doesn't need a rider to show or prod or whip him into doing something he doesn't do on his own. If he's pushed and anxious enough on his own, he'll go where he has to go by himself. Even she can't entice him into something worthwhile if his heart isn't in it.<br /><br />They say, wheresoever you go, go with all your heart. But know that it'll only go where you'll take it. If you don't go a certain way, if you choose a different path, it was because it relieved you...it's subconscious, instinct, the right thing. Even if she was a unicorn :D<br /><br />From<br /><br />You know Who</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-79888533864684046632010-11-14T01:58:00.000-08:002010-11-14T02:10:38.419-08:00Partially unrequited forever<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPgj80-EgJwhuuZ_3Q21IaPKgVI_CoG-R2KICT-mVbAeLWdYH4w4cQKaYrgdxcIaqN4yThsK_Wym3jFDO311t-zd704n3k652aTS7FqJdsZ_jXg6S0cCdwXq3yKnhIOuiQwk6DuCSrPk/s1600/tumblr_l3chgzOdYI1qa42jro1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPgj80-EgJwhuuZ_3Q21IaPKgVI_CoG-R2KICT-mVbAeLWdYH4w4cQKaYrgdxcIaqN4yThsK_Wym3jFDO311t-zd704n3k652aTS7FqJdsZ_jXg6S0cCdwXq3yKnhIOuiQwk6DuCSrPk/s400/tumblr_l3chgzOdYI1qa42jro1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539345629644335986" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear John,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">2.5 years of partially unrequited love. This relationship we have - these complications, the moments of beauty, the hurt and frustration, the push and pull, the inside jokes, the comfortable silence, the nervous butterflies, the long philosophical conversations, the anguish of my heart, the complex nature of your thoughts, the laughter, the longing and missing - it's all been worth it. Every single moment. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">And even as I have relationships with others... even as I have my heart broken from other men and break other men's hearts, I will spend the rest of my life loving you - in some shape or form.</span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-17699448833725826802010-11-14T01:50:00.000-08:002010-11-14T01:55:25.801-08:00Plan B<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0m5fv-UnObqk9aiNPOEHE9RaBpxevamNiKBG0wxiDknmE1zbfbDt5W_JDgtVKz2fDmH2893IduwH0reuGfIwF6nMaWqFO0Y2g2YgdKQ3rxrFjNZ2h0CrsqIRKSa70E7eHktuhMBwlqxk/s1600/bianca+jagger.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 359px; height: 380px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0m5fv-UnObqk9aiNPOEHE9RaBpxevamNiKBG0wxiDknmE1zbfbDt5W_JDgtVKz2fDmH2893IduwH0reuGfIwF6nMaWqFO0Y2g2YgdKQ3rxrFjNZ2h0CrsqIRKSa70E7eHktuhMBwlqxk/s400/bianca+jagger.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539341793601504322" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear John,<br /><br />I still read your horoscope every morning, along with mine. I still check your Facebook, looking to find what you've been up to. I watch you go on and offline, hoping you'll talk to me… sometimes you do. Sometimes I'm left wondering who you're talking to instead.<br /><br />I'm aware of all the girls you've been with since you and I were together, I've been around them a few times when we've hung out. I'll introduce myself politely and even at times engage in conversations with them because I know to be mature and I admit to being well-raised. It baffles me though what you see in them, they come out as being ignorant to everything but themselves. They are socially awkward, oblivious and selfish in ways I can't even depict. They all look exactly the same, completely different in every way from me. I'm left wondering what made you pursue me in the first place, I definitely wouldn't consider myself your type after meeting these bobble heads you date. I'm almost embarrassed to be amongst these class-less Jane's.<br /><br />We still talk, we're friends, we go out once in a while. I insist my feelings for you have changed, I tell myself that everyday. Deep down though it frustrates me, being around you but not with you. Seeing you smiling in pictures I'm not in… watching you move on when I'm still just as hung up on you as ever.<br /><br />The thing is, John, I have this hope, that one day things will change… and you'll wake up and realize you want me back. What gives me this hope though, is the way we are now. You've insisted on this friendship, and it bewilders me. I've stopped talking to you before, we've had numerous arguments where I tell you I'm not ready to be friends… time goes by and you'll message me, or text me, or instant message me out of the blue. You'll say something completely random, that has nothing to do with us. You know exactly how to get a reply from me. How to make me feel pathetic if I don't respond.<br /><br />You don't want to be with me, yet you keep me around. Like a plan B, a safety net… an assurance that you'll always have someone if ever in need. I'm that someone you feel you can someday love again, that someone you know you should someday love again because we're both aware I was good to you, but your feelings are gone and neither I nor you can make them come back.<br /><br />Maybe the timing is just wrong, or maybe you want to be sure there's nothing else out there better or greater before ever considering me again. Gosh, I feel like a tool saying this. I'm a professional at making you seem like the greatest douche bag of all. It's not hard… what you're doing, even though you're not aware, is indeed very unfair. It's in your nature though, and I've seen a better side of you, the one i know is around when you're truly involved with someone you care about. That's the side of you I crave… it's what lingers.<br /><br />It was obvious my mistake was being too good. I was always there, I never played games, I gave you everything and more… your friends even enjoyed my company, do till this day, actually. Your family approved, even your siblings who had never enjoyed prior Jane's admitted to liking me. Even once we were done, and in bad terms, I've been in their company. You still talk about me with them, with your family. You tell me how fond of me they are. It's quite fucked up to be frank this little relationship we have going on.<br /><br />Anyways, John...<br /><br />I want you to know, that to the contrary of what you may think, I will move on one day. I'll find another John, one that will appreciate all my qualities and realize I'm not just a toy that can be played with whenever he feels like it or craves attention. I want you to know that you will want me back when this happens, and that you wont be able to have me back. I look forward to the day when you see me smiling on my pictures, and wish you were by my side. The day when you're the one wondering what I've been up to, looking for clues on my Facebook. I assure you, I'm more certain than ever that it will happen, and so I dedicate "Ain't It Funny (the remix) by J.Lo," to you on that day. Haha, enjoy it.<br /><br />Xo,<br />Jane</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-88090739815534581762010-11-07T12:56:00.000-08:002010-11-07T13:02:55.921-08:00Jealousy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRWIg9znieBghvOq_hXKiMXaWKwQ62lgqEG4xIluTqbDWAz7fdR49poa7jjA0kZ2wC_qO5Y657NpvpjwjSKy2xriqNiLioORckhrKh9vAAXkETphC16qmr6ytAcnuEzfSFmtDzaqkpno/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRWIg9znieBghvOq_hXKiMXaWKwQ62lgqEG4xIluTqbDWAz7fdR49poa7jjA0kZ2wC_qO5Y657NpvpjwjSKy2xriqNiLioORckhrKh9vAAXkETphC16qmr6ytAcnuEzfSFmtDzaqkpno/s400/13.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536916213378240274" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear Jane,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dude we're certainly not dating but your behavior is not in anyway how I would treat a friend (wasn't he also your flatmate's date?) whether he was or not, it was weak and it was a poor show. As much as I hate to admit it it, it was also hurtful and disappointing. There's a difference between this liberated openness and being cool and being an utter cunt. An untrustworthy one at that.</span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-91005600620468869022010-11-06T10:52:00.000-07:002010-11-06T10:56:38.895-07:00Shortcomings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPtJvYaMhKhakFfnqYOKpmzYzFn7B0M1xIMdZbNoFTNzhqesWlFT5AsE5FLAitXTNibjFaGI4tTLI16pBjzmFOckkTrjnZj4ePj80qtsb4PZ9a_VZTbm-nCq3-HwOe1gwk8zd81QAOoE/s1600/raquel-zimmermann-vp9.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPtJvYaMhKhakFfnqYOKpmzYzFn7B0M1xIMdZbNoFTNzhqesWlFT5AsE5FLAitXTNibjFaGI4tTLI16pBjzmFOckkTrjnZj4ePj80qtsb4PZ9a_VZTbm-nCq3-HwOe1gwk8zd81QAOoE/s400/raquel-zimmermann-vp9.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536496898084446290" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear John,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">You have a tiny, terrible dick.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Oops, BYE!</span></div><div><br /></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-58906200166076833212010-11-06T10:49:00.000-07:002010-11-06T10:52:39.396-07:00Laws of Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj153GvvrWqY4vk-IBFg9ca7ev3twGj-vcDFn8t-fPq_FTKZjIDV5RqTwVhFiwfP-JRe_ewdT40J6SBmzYN8DoA59vQakqsBz5KAQ9VZPiSfc95SVU43ve0S62GQlwb5cS8oEs3vy6lr7E/s1600/tumblr_kum0zxtZGm1qzyx0fo1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj153GvvrWqY4vk-IBFg9ca7ev3twGj-vcDFn8t-fPq_FTKZjIDV5RqTwVhFiwfP-JRe_ewdT40J6SBmzYN8DoA59vQakqsBz5KAQ9VZPiSfc95SVU43ve0S62GQlwb5cS8oEs3vy6lr7E/s400/tumblr_kum0zxtZGm1qzyx0fo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536496095003466914" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dear John,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div>You are my everything and my nothing simultaneously. By creating this seemingly virtual existence we partake in outside the safety of our separate worlds, I've become more satisfied than ever before and more agitated than possibly imagined. I look back on the way your body facilitates mine, the ridiculous pull you have on my desires, and I forget the frustration of not having you any time I want.</div><br />Since our first teenage-esque makeout session on the city street laced with winter, you've allowed me to piece together your being within my own mind without restraint. You are completely unaware of the individual I perceive you to be, want... need you to be. Selflessness presents itself in such curious ways.<br /><br />Before you, I held the world to my greedily lofty expectations. My ridiculous nuances and desires of the way things should be according to the Laws of Me. During you, I've learned the only standards I can hold anyone to are their own. Within the four walls surrounding the World of Us, you've taught me tolerance by being loud mouthed and opinionated as I see you're shielding the history you so desperately try to shed. I've fully digested the puzzle pieces you've shared in confidence and have them sewn within the sanctity of my soul. You are safe, love.<br /><br />I've always viewed striving to satisfy one's own desires regardless of consequence as selfish; because of you I now know that act is merely survival.<br /><br />Hold me while you need me and feed my internal longings. For a moment or forever, pieces of us will float within our parallel universe and words unspoken will translate within. At least I'll know you know.</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-89194801322768565902010-10-29T09:20:00.001-07:002010-10-29T09:21:19.298-07:00Me vs. You (and myself)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMjX7kyniQReIxPsrNNLIfXa0lIO2xTdD9aTsvZcTmxNfhtqDFXUqTKZ6P_bfWyTRfWr6kgy35g7ibJJeAMqP-Db9zic3EvXi0k5_tSZaciLs91ucVhU9amBk_ncicsEBCW5tGLxWpfE/s1600/tumblr_laf6ibg0WE1qcea8jo1_500_large.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMjX7kyniQReIxPsrNNLIfXa0lIO2xTdD9aTsvZcTmxNfhtqDFXUqTKZ6P_bfWyTRfWr6kgy35g7ibJJeAMqP-Db9zic3EvXi0k5_tSZaciLs91ucVhU9amBk_ncicsEBCW5tGLxWpfE/s400/tumblr_laf6ibg0WE1qcea8jo1_500_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533503876129423762" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div>Dear Johns,<br /><br />Over the years, I have left a remarkable trail of tears in my wake. It's not like I did that, this, intentionally. I never meant to hurt you, and at times, to allow you to hurt me. The truth is-I'm a sucker for love, and it seems to happen to me repeatedly. My excuse: I embark in all of these relationships because I learn a little bit from every individual that I involve myself with. Although it didn't start out that way. But the truth is: the only thing that I've gotten out of these...things, these creations of my mind, little fantasies really, is self-destruction and more anxiety. I tricked myself into thinking that all of these experiences would each enlighten me and take me to a new level of self-experience so I wouldn't feel to horrible about my track record of wrecking and ruining. Instead, I feel blase and worn-out. I really did try to work things out with every single one of you. I tried to make something of what we had, but I guess it just wasn't ever enough. I'm so extremely tired of this. All I ever wanted was that one person that could light up my life. I thought that I would just know who that person was when I was with them but I was wrong. Thank you modern media for corrupting my little girl years with promises of happy endings.</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-26775798270355643302010-10-19T13:17:00.000-07:002010-10-19T13:24:48.533-07:00Take That<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAQeLvUeDcb966ZhVkACOLKAM6pqgotA0IPVP33PiZ5yIym2ktlhgkPlb8o2jg8RfAVwe34v2BbkttV-YWv-L9oJZUpug2B2_KRVvxgTCI5Tp_c-8OQBHCV8PdkuUnny1IFCQJeJ50Jo/s1600/somekindofwonderfulll5.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 350px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAQeLvUeDcb966ZhVkACOLKAM6pqgotA0IPVP33PiZ5yIym2ktlhgkPlb8o2jg8RfAVwe34v2BbkttV-YWv-L9oJZUpug2B2_KRVvxgTCI5Tp_c-8OQBHCV8PdkuUnny1IFCQJeJ50Jo/s400/somekindofwonderfulll5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529855729772568866" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">dear john and jane<br /><br />I hope you're very happy together. Facebook confirms you two have got what I once set out to get, and now I've lost not only the first romantic interest since my heart broke from another but one of my best friends who I looked on like a sister. You cut me out your lives, but just remember I introduced you two....... something I'll regret forever.<br /><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">P.S. I fucked him first</span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-85442437828139532922010-10-14T11:42:00.000-07:002010-10-14T12:06:59.040-07:00Blackgang Chine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_Iv1xgqv0jPimDkFHvpcg_hrV9f9bIPSqK5NJqMjPg_YmOYmBLoib_n-0Qm2BtBNjPKDnDKFqr2odsIBuPHIIfvl7Zhk8xus9sHxl1Tcjo_HrGdfWr9Yc-KAjYfdvQc7R7pe4gS2iiw/s1600/tumblr_ku5ecw785h1qa8qa0o1_500.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_Iv1xgqv0jPimDkFHvpcg_hrV9f9bIPSqK5NJqMjPg_YmOYmBLoib_n-0Qm2BtBNjPKDnDKFqr2odsIBuPHIIfvl7Zhk8xus9sHxl1Tcjo_HrGdfWr9Yc-KAjYfdvQc7R7pe4gS2iiw/s400/tumblr_ku5ecw785h1qa8qa0o1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527979917499267442" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dear John,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I hate Facebook and the fact that I cannot delete your sister as my friend because she's so sweet and that'd be rude of me. Plus, she's pregnant, and you can't delete a pregnant lady! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I hate that I have to see your new girlfriend post on your sister's page about hanging out with your family. Oh great, she flew in from LA too. Good for you. You're taking her to all our old spots. Hope you have the time of your life. Not.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I hate that your new girlfriend is my doppleganger. We look exactly alike, people have said it for years.... before you knew either of us actually. Only she's in a band and probably cooler.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Barf, barf, barf.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-10419847513169961772010-10-03T02:41:00.000-07:002010-10-14T12:08:02.062-07:00Love of My Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhayWhCgrPSNwfrR-F8xjBLhtmCJBO-pbGZLsx80ViRbAPY7HOYZsRc7nmZSHl08qLgpW_PIQWUMO8YUZA8_uBO_Jy01-wjJD8eUdGTjyhaQP0nFO-ck0qhh3gl5UFHLHSNxwn7ZZSLItw/s1600/25-Valiauga-o5-1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 338px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhayWhCgrPSNwfrR-F8xjBLhtmCJBO-pbGZLsx80ViRbAPY7HOYZsRc7nmZSHl08qLgpW_PIQWUMO8YUZA8_uBO_Jy01-wjJD8eUdGTjyhaQP0nFO-ck0qhh3gl5UFHLHSNxwn7ZZSLItw/s400/25-Valiauga-o5-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523754737864389586" /></a><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dear The Love of my Life,<br /><br />By all accounts, you're the love of my life. Leaving you three years ago was the most difficult and best decision in my life.<br /><br />You were an absolute addiction. Like a drug, if I even got one whiff of your presence whether seeing you flash of your presence online, a passing email, it's like I suffer a relapse and I'm spending days struggling.<br /><br />I miss when you use to say "Hey baby", in your husky sexy voice that I knew your complete attention was on me. I miss those kisses you use to give me on my neck that would send shutters all over my body. There was a time where it just didn't feel right unless I was sleeping next to you in your bed.<br /><br />I miss the moments when it felt like we were in a movie. Once I was in my raggidy PJ's, you were typing away on the computer. And a song came on the radio and we were in your messy room. And for one slow song, you picked me up and slow danced with me for the entire song. Just out of nowhere.<br /><br />You just couldn't get enough of my body. Sometimes, you couldn't wait to get my clothes off just so you could lick my cunt. It was such a privilege to be your partner.<br /><br />And you're hot. You had the type of body that was shapely and would make girls wet in their pants. I hope you realise that.<br /><br />Movie moment #2. I had made a decision to move to a new country for my career. You had arranged to leave with me at the airport. We were late, rushing to catch the plane before it would separate us, and you picked me up and kissed me in the most passionate kiss that people in the room couldn't help but stop and stare. There were no words, just a hush that came through the airport waiting room as people saw two lovers say goodbye.<br /><br />What you may be struggling to understand, was that despite being madly and deeply in love with you, there was a huge unhappiness over my heart. Despite being my knight in shining armour, you literally were a knight in shining armour. You were trying to save me, and I didn't need saving. You looked for ways to save me, and in some sense, you relished in finding ways I needed saving.<br /><br />I have dreams that I want to accomplish. I tried to take you with me. But you couldn't because either you thought I couldn't do it, or you weren't organised. You didn't understand that I'm a political person, and I wanted to run my life based on those politics. You in turn didn't understand the politics and at best only copied me because you knew it would make me happy. I had wanted to make life as an adventure, but you didn't even understand the adventure itself.<br /><br />Because you were so busy saving me, you didn't realise that you were the one who needed saving. You became really insecure about your frailties. I would offer help but you didn't want to share that part of yourself. You were holding the knight in shinining armour paradigm so tightly, you didn't realise the metal was what was causing you to sink.<br /><br />My last complaint, now that it's been three years of getting over you. Three years of learning that I don't need a knight. You keep coming back in between your new damsels in distress. And the relapses come back despite the new foundations that I have built from your absence.<br /><br />I am now investing my energies elsewhere. If I keep telling myself I will find a new Love of my Life, hopefully one day I will believe it.<br /><br />Leave me alone, old Love of my Life. I wish you were cruel. The best thing you can do for me now is to ignore me. I don't want to see you again until I'm an old woman. </span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-89459531608210299702010-09-30T16:15:00.000-07:002010-09-30T16:20:26.127-07:00Life lesson 34,722: How to be happy for someone else<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNK_1Ws9nxBGRHiq8EG1Nuwmjq9KEwvCB1cnCGT0RhfCvP21HmDx6JTAMfy_V51xYzfQr9TOZSn6jXKb65A-SF3-EtZZPSKlUHFx-GyHUSaWbZmIABNS8os-6uNOIyC5ZNuLPVaT6V_ys/s1600/BG2.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNK_1Ws9nxBGRHiq8EG1Nuwmjq9KEwvCB1cnCGT0RhfCvP21HmDx6JTAMfy_V51xYzfQr9TOZSn6jXKb65A-SF3-EtZZPSKlUHFx-GyHUSaWbZmIABNS8os-6uNOIyC5ZNuLPVaT6V_ys/s400/BG2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522850110792575506" /></a><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dear John,<br /><br />I am so, so incredibly happy for you.<br /><br />Well, no, I guess I'm not. I'm not unhappy for you, but I don't really feel happy, either. But I think if I keep saying that I am, either I'll start feeling it, or the repetition will trick my mind into thinking I really feel it. Either of which is suitable.<br /><br />We were babies who fell in love years ago. Usually, I would say young love is infatuation saturated by the satisfaction of finally fulfilled sexual daydreams, but for us, it was real. Really real. So real, in fact, that I still love you.<br /><br />I would never, ever tell anyone this. But if you were to ask me to, I would quit my job, boyfriend, and life to move across the continent (across the world, if necessary) and marry you in a day. That's how much I still love you. Or how disillusioned I am with adult life that I want that badly to go back to the simplistically difficult life that was my youth.<br /><br />But you would never ask me to. So, I will continue to work at my literal and figurative garden with my meat-and-potatoes-love, praying that he never learns to like cherry tomatoes so I can continue to have them all to myself.<br /><br />And I will continue to hope that you do and don't invite me to your wedding, and that I will and won't meet your fiancee, and that you are and aren't happy for the rest of your life.<br /><br />My life as a hypocrite suites me quite well.<br /><br />I am so, so incredibly happy for you. May you have found everything you ever wanted.<br /><br />I love you, too,<br />jane</span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-42407224283306863122010-09-23T14:33:00.000-07:002010-09-23T14:38:22.354-07:00Sweet Leaf<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpUfMcDRqV9P80pCoMcUnLcByL8Dm8YHMUri0pM8cgGdVeiuZfXN5R9Clid08IuoxZGo3hBDGZkBTcrFizftQcVsZoS4OtcFP3hddvSxOk4yWhw7m-JXRA0KuvTMsPzchRucXsfBNLUQ/s1600/1_3.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpUfMcDRqV9P80pCoMcUnLcByL8Dm8YHMUri0pM8cgGdVeiuZfXN5R9Clid08IuoxZGo3hBDGZkBTcrFizftQcVsZoS4OtcFP3hddvSxOk4yWhw7m-JXRA0KuvTMsPzchRucXsfBNLUQ/s400/1_3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520226425457341186" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dear Jane,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">You know right? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I am transcendentally in love with you.</span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-52246577915133030152010-09-22T07:59:00.000-07:002010-09-23T14:40:08.427-07:00fuck this<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIrxEIbPWoJM6zTwYzdzaKMaYQOf01hlcFMqdRPlkGprZ42MIgeXuD6zPQcyY1RvP8wuw7JKwZzukCT44gA2eWk_oK48Kcb9Y8GAwqrtXvKXrFdWI48-KR7jNIS0TgKmhqaI2rGOotjA/s1600/x_a4026f84_large.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIrxEIbPWoJM6zTwYzdzaKMaYQOf01hlcFMqdRPlkGprZ42MIgeXuD6zPQcyY1RvP8wuw7JKwZzukCT44gA2eWk_oK48Kcb9Y8GAwqrtXvKXrFdWI48-KR7jNIS0TgKmhqaI2rGOotjA/s400/x_a4026f84_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519755007468367826" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />Dear Jane,<br /><br />I don't know what we are. You confuse me, you don't bat an eye as I make allusions to us being Married but then you tell me what a wonderful a 'friend' you are to me.<br /><br />You talk to me all hours of the night because you want to, and because I want to too. But I don't know how we're connected, or if we really are.<br /><br />Fuck this. </span></span></span></span></div>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1518203035307029359.post-54950152652116480362010-09-21T12:36:00.000-07:002010-09-21T12:42:12.432-07:00We're Back<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx5Got0VNMvNF8GZSsDjB0T4ScfcwHU2usnvbyX-BDk5ru4p9L-qh2DQ_37bARe9sXcsNepFCek_Gha8XMFIFOXpv0C13_Pep6yZ-3jyR6VgMm7OGstBWiUWuJTfPKyN4obJfQgcVbqCM/s1600/tumblr_l93yzqUHvO1qcfa1jo1_500_large.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 387px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx5Got0VNMvNF8GZSsDjB0T4ScfcwHU2usnvbyX-BDk5ru4p9L-qh2DQ_37bARe9sXcsNepFCek_Gha8XMFIFOXpv0C13_Pep6yZ-3jyR6VgMm7OGstBWiUWuJTfPKyN4obJfQgcVbqCM/s400/tumblr_l93yzqUHvO1qcfa1jo1_500_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519454093538932530" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">after a brief hiatus dear john has been resuscitated and we are back to accepting your lovely confessions and spitting them out...we missed you too.</span></span>Ditty and Livvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305655416737749175noreply@blogger.com0