<?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-1386443569916955995</id><updated>2011-09-24T07:56:55.479-07:00</updated><category term='Confusion'/><category term='loveless'/><category term='sex'/><category term='yearning'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='infatuation'/><category term='ex &quot;love&quot;'/><category term='wanting'/><category term='letters'/><category term='assumtion'/><title type='text'>Anonymity</title><subtitle type='html'>These are my letters. Written to various people who will forever remain nameless. You can guess as to whom I speak of but you will never know. These are my Letters Left Anonymous.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-7912431167161948849</id><published>2010-02-16T19:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T19:27:24.871-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='infatuation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex &quot;love&quot;'/><title type='text'>Dear Realization,</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;In-fat-u-a-tion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (ĭ-fāch'ōō-ā'shən);&lt;br /&gt;1. To inspire or possess with a foolish or unreasoning passion, as of love&lt;br /&gt;2. A foolish, unreasoning, or extravagant passion or attraction&lt;br /&gt;3. An object of extravagant, short-lived passion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you for making me think all that time that you were&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to have love or affection for another person; be in love.(v)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I Had Was;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;a love affair; an intensely amorous incident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, no matter the time/place, stops for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;You're not embarrassed by love...you aren't afraid to admit to the WORLD when/who you're in love with...&lt;br /&gt;So there's no way I've experienced that&lt;br /&gt;and there's no way he loved me either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'll wait...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S3tgySBuqTI/AAAAAAAAAVE/6VbfBE1v52Q/s1600-h/HEARTBREAK3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="276" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S3tgySBuqTI/AAAAAAAAAVE/6VbfBE1v52Q/s320/HEARTBREAK3.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;((chucks mic))&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-7912431167161948849?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/7912431167161948849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2010/02/dear-realization.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/7912431167161948849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/7912431167161948849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2010/02/dear-realization.html' title='Dear Realization,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S3tgySBuqTI/AAAAAAAAAVE/6VbfBE1v52Q/s72-c/HEARTBREAK3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-3236316130767178118</id><published>2010-02-16T19:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T19:04:40.355-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yearning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wanting'/><title type='text'>To Whom It May Concern,</title><content type='html'>Listen,&lt;br /&gt;I can't necessarily say I'm heartbroken..because I'm not. I'm a bit broken though... I've rummaged through my soul to see what I could come up with. I found solace in such a journey. A sort of yearning. There's a lot to be said;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S3tbHT45LWI/AAAAAAAAAU8/rFw9AHZds4o/s1600-h/dunwantit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S3tbHT45LWI/AAAAAAAAAU8/rFw9AHZds4o/s200/dunwantit.jpg" width="186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm mending, so to speak. From a war on both sides. I've forgiven a lot of shit but I can't seem to forget it.&lt;br /&gt;but there is one person that puts me in a place of forget...as if nothing else ever happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;((hmm..))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let me reiterate, I am not heartbroken, but I am broken.&lt;br /&gt;I feel at a lose sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;Call it depression. &lt;br /&gt;Call it whatever the fuck makes you feel better. &lt;br /&gt;Either way, it's something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yearn&lt;/em&gt; (verb);&amp;nbsp;to have an earnest or strong desire; long.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps that explains it..Perhaps not.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it's him (you)... Perhaps it is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I yearn to fall into this. &lt;br /&gt;Into him (you).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;((Im saying too much))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, I have a sadness about me that plagues me. A silence about me that confuses me. A yearning about me that entices me....&lt;br /&gt;There's just something about the look in those eyes, that I can't quite put my finger on..&lt;br /&gt;So I will sit here. &lt;br /&gt;Patiently. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Genuinly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Until I figure out what it is, and why I yearn for it (you)&amp;nbsp;so badly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;(drops mic)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-3236316130767178118?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/3236316130767178118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-whom-it-may-concern.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/3236316130767178118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/3236316130767178118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-whom-it-may-concern.html' title='To Whom It May Concern,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S3tbHT45LWI/AAAAAAAAAU8/rFw9AHZds4o/s72-c/dunwantit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-373186090526460254</id><published>2010-01-17T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T17:36:02.329-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex &quot;love&quot;'/><title type='text'>Dear Misconception,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S1O6uAAsspI/AAAAAAAAAUk/xvWU2KSiE2k/s1600-h/heartbreak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S1O6uAAsspI/AAAAAAAAAUk/xvWU2KSiE2k/s640/heartbreak.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had you near…you polluted my soul… I felt the need to have you…knowing I did not…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Say you will… please let me go…I gave too much…now here I am…and there you are..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can pretend I loved you so, heaven knows I did… think…you were mine… I’m taking my life down a road of pure ecstasy… because I refuse to be wrong… I was wrong, but I was right. And I will wait… at least I felt I would…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A thousand letters could never get you to understand how much you truly meant to me. Now it’s a façade. A simple lie that was a big truth, but an unknowing catch. I figured I could beat it away. Out of mind. But there you always ended up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;God knows I love everything you’ve helped me to become. I thank you for that. But I cannot sit here and wait. My heart yearns for too much now…And all that’s left are the shattered pieces of never knowing, but not having the patience to wait it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Selfish. Guess you can call it that. But I’m too sensitive to sit, listen, and watch you be with someone that is not me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So friend, here I am. There you go. You’ll never truly realize how much you consumed me. And that’s okay… a thousand words couldn’t get you to understand. The rest of our lives, may have already passed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You’re still the warmest sun to have ever graced my face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Simply, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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/1386443569916955995-373186090526460254?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/373186090526460254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-misconception.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/373186090526460254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/373186090526460254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-misconception.html' title='Dear Misconception,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/S1O6uAAsspI/AAAAAAAAAUk/xvWU2KSiE2k/s72-c/heartbreak.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-802115800919820360</id><published>2009-11-25T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T12:22:38.862-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loveless'/><title type='text'>Dear Loveless Sex,</title><content type='html'>She owned you, didn’t she? I know. I watched her walk around proudly as if none of it was happening. I feel for her though, don’t you? How could you not. You play such a coy game. She told me how lost she was and how it just felt good for feel another body lying next to her. She doesn’t have a lot of men under her belt, hell compared to most women the number is extremely low, but the amount of time in which she consumed such a loveless task was what worried me, and you as well. We both know you were the substitute for her heart. How she was making up for those years of getting her ass beat mentally. How she genuinely felt that sex was nothing more than just sex and will forever be just that. And it’s not. Anyone that has been in-love knows it’s not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/Sw2PZdsRc-I/AAAAAAAAAPY/vPQcT8AutvE/s1600/loltrue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408136395171656674" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/Sw2PZdsRc-I/AAAAAAAAAPY/vPQcT8AutvE/s320/loltrue.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a friend say to me, “We’re grown. You should be able to have sex with whoever you want and not feel bad about it. Who cares? It’s just sex.” And she’s right. But what satisfaction does one get out of going around and having you, loveless sex? I don’t understand. And I don’t think she understands either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She did cry to me when a friend simply stated to her that, she was alone and that substituting the want for love and affection with you was unacceptable and tasteless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not writing you to hurt you. I just don’t understand what your need for existence is. You are simply tasteless. I just hope one day more women will realize that you, loveless sex, are just a sad quick way of making us feel wanted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*drops mic*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-802115800919820360?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/802115800919820360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/11/dear-loveless-sex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/802115800919820360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/802115800919820360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/11/dear-loveless-sex.html' title='Dear Loveless Sex,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/Sw2PZdsRc-I/AAAAAAAAAPY/vPQcT8AutvE/s72-c/loltrue.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-3090883031382007691</id><published>2009-10-30T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T06:13:19.695-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><title type='text'>Dear Dream,</title><content type='html'>I've been chasing you for quite some time now. I feel as if you are still so far away. One minute I’m onto you and the next I’ve never felt so far away from you. Why is this? Why does it seem like you are running from me? Is it something I have done? Is it because I’ve fucked up so much in my past that you feel as if I do not deserve you? Tell me; because right now is when I need to know. Right now, at this all time low, I feel as if it's never going to happen. I feel as if I’m mediocre. Not special. Okay at what I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I should give up on you? Perhaps I should walk away, go back to school and never look back. But shit I breathe you. I need you. I long for you. Everything I do and everything I touch reminds me of you. The very air I breathe sings your song different from all the rest. You are the reason I’m a better person today. You are my safe haven. I struggle because I want you. I struggle because I need you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why am I doubting you? Better yet, why do I doubt myself? I am you and you are me. So much of you need me and every part of me needs you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have many people that believe in me, but there are a few. I love them for that although I may not voice it. I am hard headed and I have my ways about me. But I am me. I am trying. I've never wanted something so much in my life. I've never fought so hard for one thing... And sometimes that struggle to get there is difficult. Sometimes I feel as if maybe a little too difficult. Guess I have to remember that nothing happens overnight. Guess I should take the time to realize this time last year, I was further away from you than I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby steps, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to learn to enjoy the journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, I am destined for something great...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Or am I?]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-3090883031382007691?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/3090883031382007691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/10/dear-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/3090883031382007691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/3090883031382007691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/10/dear-dream.html' title='Dear Dream,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-362093122281010099</id><published>2009-09-30T07:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T07:48:49.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Past,</title><content type='html'>My actions are a direct result of your actions. Call them reactions if you will. I don’t know what it is you expect me to say. Everything is dead; my heart, my soul, my feelings; everything. I’ve tried to sit back and look at things from different angles. See whether or not things could be worked out in some way, shape or form. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s truly over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be sorry. I want to say I feel bad, but that would be a lie. Every effort I put into that relationship was overlooked. Every single things I tried to do to better us as a family or myself as a person, was overlooked. You took my kindness for weakness an ran with it. Sadly, it turned into weakness after awhile and I stopped fighting. I started to give up and that it not the person I want to be. That is not the person that I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really felt for awhile now that if I was able to forgive you than maybe we could move forward. Maybe we could start over and leave the past where it belongs. But I’ve come to the conclusion that all is forgiven. I have actually forgiven you for beating my soul into the ground. The problem is, I cannot forget. I look at you and I remember. I look at you and I hurt. One can forgive but never forget. And right now, forgetting is impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether or not you want to believe the reasons behind not being with you, does not concern me. You no longer concern me. I feel that at this point in my life, I do not need a reason or explanation; it just is. Now you can accept this like a man, or you can accept this and continue to be an infant. Either way, you have no other choice but to accept it. It is what it is. And it is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*tosses mic*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-362093122281010099?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/362093122281010099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-past.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/362093122281010099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/362093122281010099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-past.html' title='Dear Past,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-1528842928208577562</id><published>2009-09-21T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T12:06:03.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear You,</title><content type='html'>It’s my fault for liking you. I see that now. But it’s your fault for making me admit to such a thing. I was more content with holding it in because I already knew the outcome…but your insistency made me, for a short minute, think otherwise. And boy, that short minute turned into an hour and by the end of it I’ve said all the things I wish I never had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You indecisiveness with your own life, I cannot fault you for. But I can fault you for subconsciously knowing that you would not be with me, but still actively pursuing me. Its fine I guess, because it’s all a game in the end. Someone wins, someone loses, and the loser always gets hurt. And in the end, it is not you who are hurting, it is I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to contradict myself here and base my opinion on assumption. But how can I call it assumption when it’s so blatantly clear? Debate me on that one. Call me wrong for writing you this letter, because I’m sure you know who you are. But I feel as if there really isn’t anything left to say but a bunch of broken words. And who needs anymore of those in their life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*throws mic*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-1528842928208577562?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/1528842928208577562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/1528842928208577562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/1528842928208577562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-you.html' title='Dear You,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-630592853444963186</id><published>2009-09-15T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T06:21:45.059-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='assumtion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='letters'/><title type='text'>Dear Assumption,</title><content type='html'>What is it about you that causes you to assume so? I feel your lack of experience brings you to this point, but who am I to assume?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel if something great was staring you in the face, you'd dismiss it. Pass it by because it doesn't fit into the picture of your perfect future, and you'd assume there would be no way it could possible fall into place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making decisions based on assumptions just doesn't seem right to me (or anyone for that matter) but hey, I aint mad atcha. Just know that a great thing passed you by. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding my life, I (myself, me, Ashley) could have given your soul something it secretly lacks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that assumption of misunderstanding an the decision based off of that will deliver regret to your door, but by that time, I'll be long gone. And you'll be okay with that, but you'll forever wonder. I promise you that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Truly,&lt;br /&gt;The one that passed you by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*drops mic*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-630592853444963186?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/630592853444963186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-assumption.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/630592853444963186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/630592853444963186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-assumption.html' title='Dear Assumption,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386443569916955995.post-8383183484511775453</id><published>2009-09-15T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T09:23:07.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Music,</title><content type='html'>I remember falling in-love with you at an early age. I recall the times, the places, the events that made me cry, the time in which I spent with a person with whom I looked up to. My dad always meant a lot to me. My humor comes from him but unfortunately so does my want of constant attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       I resented my dad for not being with my mom and when he made the decision to get married and move down south, I resented him even more. Life without him was seemingly the same but secretly not. I would hear James Brown, MJ, The temptations ect… and get emotional. I stayed away from music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Granted I play the guitar, violin, big fan of lyrics…but still it wasn’t the same. The passion was no longer there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         I recently met someone who made me realize the memory associated with music is okay, embrace it, it’s making you who you are. I slowly began to fall back in love with music the way I once was. My attention to detail became sharper; my love for knowing where your sample came from came back. Music was back in my life. And I have him to thank for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           Your words mean too much to not mean anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381730160699030530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/Sq-_EUl4vAI/AAAAAAAAAL4/bCf2HcaPqXE/s200/tattoo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*drops mic*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1386443569916955995-8383183484511775453?l=lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/feeds/8383183484511775453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-music.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/8383183484511775453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1386443569916955995/posts/default/8383183484511775453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lettersleftanonymous.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-music.html' title='Dear Music,'/><author><name>*AC*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16956897190917154562</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/TS56Ll1-99I/AAAAAAAAAYw/Yci1v9vzG6A/S220/untitled.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zJuFeF6TL8o/Sq-_EUl4vAI/AAAAAAAAAL4/bCf2HcaPqXE/s72-c/tattoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
