<?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-8614219671085610267</id><updated>2012-02-01T02:28:53.654+11:00</updated><category term='dark'/><category term='jaz'/><category term='FTSK'/><category term='st kilda fest'/><category term='Johnny Depp'/><category term='leather'/><category term='marlon brando'/><category term='fried ice-cream'/><category term='dinner'/><category term='stuff'/><category term='+ heaps more people lol.'/><category term='break even'/><category term='care'/><category term='lemons'/><category term='pretty'/><category term='the devil wears prada'/><category term='richmond'/><category term='lawyer'/><category term='kira'/><category 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live'/><category term='rule 34'/><category term='dakota'/><category term='true blood'/><category term='anxious'/><category term='starbucks'/><category term='fortune cookies'/><category term='class'/><category term='josh'/><category term='asshole'/><category term='bitchy'/><category term='neon love'/><category term='horny collins'/><category term='melbourne'/><category term='face the music'/><category term='friends'/><category term='sportacus'/><category term='me'/><category term='insulation'/><category term='freaking out'/><category term='acceptance'/><category term='wake'/><category term='the wombats'/><category term='California'/><category term='karen'/><category term='vampires'/><category term='tattoo'/><category term='videos'/><category term='2010'/><category term='party'/><category term='vultures'/><category term='cunt'/><category term='valentines day'/><category term='dog'/><category term='slappas'/><category term='i dont understand.'/><category term='purple'/><category 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dance'/><category term='dorian gray'/><category term='never shout never'/><category term='generic'/><category term='magic'/><category term='ebay'/><category term='adolescence'/><category term='hemorrhoids'/><category term='guilt'/><category term='feel'/><category term='mr bloom'/><category term='christmas'/><category term='advertising'/><category term='London'/><category term='inspiration'/><category term='brant'/><category term='take action'/><category term='true colours'/><category term='stand by me'/><category term='amy'/><category term='kris'/><category term='atticus'/><category term='polish'/><category term='soundwave'/><category term='clothing'/><category term='presents'/><category term='sean'/><category term='Max Bemis'/><category term='twilight'/><category term='american psycho'/><category term='rude man'/><category term='punch'/><category term='compasison'/><category term='social situations'/><category term='pool hall'/><category term='17 again'/><category term='Ginner 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term='kathie'/><category term='pray'/><category term='Allan Hyde'/><category term='dvd'/><category term='Spirited Away'/><category term='John'/><category term='trends'/><category term='nicole goodwin'/><category term='Rick Kercz'/><category term='julian barratt'/><category term='psychology'/><category term='travel'/><category term='housewife'/><category term='obsession'/><category term='conversations'/><category term='eyes wide shut'/><category term='storm'/><category term='gallows'/><category term='harvest'/><category term='city and colour'/><category term='Ringwood'/><category term='echoes'/><category term='christopher drew'/><category term='blogs'/><category term='sleepy'/><category term='who the fuck is david byrne?'/><category term='future'/><category term='FEELINGS ARE GAY'/><category term='bonding'/><category term='lost'/><category term='finland'/><category term='I dont even know'/><category term='dogs'/><category term='security'/><category term='barf'/><category term='mistakes'/><category term='Sunny'/><category term='cbf'/><category term='school'/><category term='sunglasses'/><category term='hiring'/><category term='mr miler'/><category term='people'/><category term='respect'/><category term='texas'/><category term='rubbish'/><category term='animal'/><category term='brodee'/><category term='small world'/><category term='steven'/><category term='the garage'/><category term='plane'/><category term='anthony'/><category term='busy'/><category term='aww shit'/><category term='fags'/><category term='milky joe'/><category term='fun'/><category term='Hayao Miyazaki'/><category term='shutter island'/><category term='friendly fires'/><category term='joaquin phoenix'/><category term='american indians'/><category term='mind'/><category term='media'/><category term='babies'/><category term='stanley kubrick'/><category term='future home'/><category term='apple'/><category term='beach'/><category term='take a shit'/><category term='security guards'/><category term='faye'/><category term='unicorn'/><category term='criminals'/><category term='a lion named christian'/><category term='old gregg'/><category term='louisa'/><category term='hana'/><category term='good times'/><category term='lolita'/><category term='Rueben'/><category term='cory'/><category term='18th'/><category term='narcoleptic prostitutes'/><category term='Howl&apos;s Moving Castle'/><category term='badass'/><category term='tyrone'/><category term='dylan'/><category term='danny sangra'/><category term='montana 1948'/><category term='insane'/><category term='bring me the horizon'/><category term='internet'/><category term='st albans'/><category term='benjamin button'/><category term='isabelle allende'/><category term='London Dungeon'/><category term='beauty'/><category term='dudesons'/><category term='Luna Park'/><category term='the evelyn'/><category term='cabin'/><category term='taking back sunday'/><category term='thinking'/><category term='placebo'/><category term='red hot chilli peppers'/><category term='basketball diaries'/><category term='adam'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='dave grohl'/><category term='quan 88'/><category term='mr milner'/><category term='antagonist'/><category term='child stars'/><category term='penis cake'/><category term='the corner hotel'/><category term='kinder eggs'/><category term='good friday'/><category term='happy'/><category term='vegie chips'/><category term='not negative'/><category term='peter jackson'/><category term='fuck you'/><category term='blog'/><category term='Keanu Reeves'/><category term='scum'/><category term='apologies'/><category term='anzac day'/><category term='melbourne central'/><category term='regumble'/><category term='dead'/><category term='conflict'/><category term='parents'/><category term='ew'/><category term='chantel'/><category term='sac'/><category term='rolo tomassi'/><category term='carl williams'/><category term='george'/><category term='lake mountian'/><category term='ferris wheel'/><category term='god'/><category term='pnau'/><category term='nana'/><category term='fail'/><category term='jack the ripper'/><category term='the mighty boosh'/><category term='snow'/><category term='leonardo dicaprio'/><category term='drugs'/><category term='cute airhost'/><category term='shark'/><category term='mirror house antics'/><category term='hottest day ever'/><category term='Rangi'/><title type='text'>FIGURE ME OUT</title><subtitle type='html'>This is where everything gets set straight.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>575</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-9119371928054145681</id><published>2012-01-30T00:33:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T00:33:34.722+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Me and Jay just got back from Mt Martha, and I had an honestly awesome time with him. It was all singing and driving and he just rubbed that much moisturiser into my boobs because they got burnt so hard its just fucked up. So he was hydrating my skin every night, and loving it. Plus, I read another totally fucking awesome comic by the mad cunt Allan Moore (and others) called Swamp Thing. Was sick, you should all go buy it. It was just awesome, swimming all day and then watching X-Men in bed reading comics, it was seriously mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, thats not what I'm here to talk about, on the way home we were listening to Taking Bak SUnday really loud and like full belting out the lyrics like&amp;nbsp;douche bags, and earlier in the day we went into this shop and it was literally like Karen was everywhere. It was this totally awesome hippy shop and it just reminded me of her so much. While we were singing Jay was like, 'Man how bad did that shop remind you of Karen today. It was awesome' and he meant it like, in a what a badass she is kind of way. Anyway, I was just like instantly transported back to when she was at my house ater&amp;nbsp;Soundwave&amp;nbsp;one year, and I was trying to show my parents the pictures I took and they weren't&amp;nbsp;interested&amp;nbsp;but Karen was. What she did was got me to print off all my favourites and sign them all because she said that&amp;nbsp;one-day&amp;nbsp;I would be famous and they would be worth&amp;nbsp;a lot&amp;nbsp;of money and we just laughed and I signed them. One of the photos I remembered signing was the one of Adam from Taking Back Sunday. I instantly started crying but not like sad crying just like happy crying, because she was honestly the most awesome person ever and she inspired me to do good, and she made me feel like I was doing good. It was just nice to remember her as the total fucking badass that she was.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-9119371928054145681?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/9119371928054145681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2012/01/surprise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/9119371928054145681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/9119371928054145681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2012/01/surprise.html' title='Surprise'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5569917150334313015</id><published>2011-11-06T17:19:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T17:19:34.858+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Kill people</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am wondering why the universe likes to throw piles of shit on my face all the time. I just wish I didn't exist right now. I wish I had the fucking strength to break up with Jay. I wish I was fucking strong. I wish I wasn't this pathetic weeping bitch that it just so far beyond being pathetic that she wants to just cease all living. I'm just sick. One day I'm going to find the right person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck. Why aren't I good enough? Like what the fuck is wrong with me? Can someone tell me why I'm not good enough?&lt;br /&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/8614219671085610267-5569917150334313015?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5569917150334313015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/11/kill-people.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5569917150334313015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5569917150334313015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/11/kill-people.html' title='Kill people'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-767071965078587852</id><published>2011-10-16T18:12:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T18:12:36.595+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I do not want friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I don't see the point in them anymore. My mum full on flipped out at me today over nothing at all, it all concluded with her telling me to 'get the fuck out' of the house. The amount of times I have fucking offered people my house as a place to stay when they have been thrown out its stupid. I have offered so many times, I call out for help today and no one is fucking there. No one is ever there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't get it, I try to mend shit with people that I don't even fit in with anymore and all I hear is peoples whispers from behind my back about how I'm not trying hard enough. Why do I have to do it? Its always all me. I just can't anymore. I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know why I bother. I don't want to make people happy anymore. I don't care if people get fucked off because I just don't see a point. People talk shit so easily. I don't even have to do anything anymore and I'm still ruining everything for everyone. I just need to be heavily medicated so my mind will stop buzzing and I'll stop crying because I just don't want to try and keep friends anymore. I just can't rely on people for anything at all. No one has ever been there. I'm tired of feeling like some pathetic piece of shit. Everyone just makes me feel so petty and shit and I just don't want to anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have anywhere anymore. I don't have anything anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-767071965078587852?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/767071965078587852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-do-not-want-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/767071965078587852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/767071965078587852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-do-not-want-friends.html' title='I do not want friends'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8992044574437443310</id><published>2011-09-28T22:08:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T22:08:52.739+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I tried writing this on tumblr but I couldn't</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-origin: initial; background-position: 50% 0%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; color: black; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.4; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; margin-right: 12px; margin-top: 8px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;I really get sick of hearing "Oh Dakota, you're so lucky to have Jay" and the reason I'm so sick of hearing it is because all I hear is "Oh Dakota, you're such a bitch and you're not very pretty either. You are lucky that someone as attractive as Jay settled for you because lets face it you're never going to get anyone half as attractive and caring as him because you're a really ugly fat person who just doesn't deserve him"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck off. I don't fucking care. Don't eye fuck my boyfriend in front of me. Its not going to fucking happen. Don't fucking go on about how 'lucky' I am because I know I'm fucking lucky that he actually cares about me. I'm just so tired of having people make me feel like shit because they tell me I'm unworthy of him. Why am I so unworthy of Jay to people? I just don't get it anymore. I'm so sick of people making me feel unworthy. Like fuck, I feel unworthy already. Why the fuck else would I feel so insecure about myself all the fucking time. Its just like Dakotas fat, shes not attractive, SHES NOT AT FUCKING UNI, Dakota is just fucking damaged beyond fucking repair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hate people. I fucking hate everyone because everyone fucking hates me. I can't fucking do this whole act anymore. I'm so sick of pretending people are friends when they're not. I don't fucking care like just shut the fuck up.&amp;nbsp;&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/8614219671085610267-8992044574437443310?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8992044574437443310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-tried-writing-this-on-tumblr-but-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8992044574437443310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8992044574437443310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-tried-writing-this-on-tumblr-but-i.html' title='I tried writing this on tumblr but I couldn&apos;t'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2261819690598960354</id><published>2011-09-16T21:59:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T21:59:47.210+10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hard Parts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I always said that this year I would go to London for six months. As soon as I finished school I'd go. Then I fell in love and I don't want to go anymore because I won't see Jay for six months. So I thought I would wait for him to finish school so we would go. I even said we would only have to go for three weeks. He pretty much told me that he won't ever go to London with me because he doesn't want to go to London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm sitting here wondering why I have wasted this entire year waiting for him when he tells me now he has no intentions of ever going to London with me because he doesn't want to go. I explain to him if we go there were a $100 train ride away from Amsterdam and Paris and Germany and everything and doesn't want to go to any of those places. He tells me he loves me but he loves his family more and doesn't want to leave his family for a brief period for a holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't see a point in staying with him now. I've wasted a year of my life waiting for him to go with me because that was the plan and now he doesn't want to go? What am I meant to make of that. I want to explore with him and see the world because it would be amazing and I wouldn't want to share that with anyone else but he just doesn't like London so he doesn't want to go. So I've spent this entire year feeling lost, and confused and pathetic because I'm doing nothing with my life and it was all for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dreams get crushed. The really fucking stupid thing though is that I can't leave him. I love him so much I just can't. At the same time I hate him for denying me this one thing I've always wanted and he just doesn't want to go with me. As I write this I think to myself its just because he doesn't love you, but I've given him so many options to leave and he never wants to leave and he gets upset when I ask him if he wants to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just feel so shit right now because I can't choose between my stupid dreams or this stupid relationship. I try really hard. All I need is order with me and Jay. Thats it, and he just can't do that so its like I'm always upset and he doesn't care because he doesn't see it as being wrong and I just don't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never loved anyone like this. I've never tried so hard at anything in my life than this relationship. I'm terrible with people I never make plans or do anything with/for my friends, but I try so hard with Jay and he doesn't want to try back. I make him so many things. I brought my streetfighter arcade stick so he wouldn't only have to watch movies at my house with me. I always try to get interested in his stuff and he just doesn't want to do it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one ever tells you how hard it is to choose between your dreams or the person you love. No one ever tells you how you let go of your dreams. No one ever tells you how you let go of someone your still madly in love with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2261819690598960354?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2261819690598960354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/hard-parts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2261819690598960354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2261819690598960354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/hard-parts.html' title='The Hard Parts'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1639688572791482644</id><published>2011-09-10T22:30:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-09-10T22:30:42.632+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;You know, I honestly believe that talking shit out always works best. Heres a scenario for you, tonight Jay said it was boys night so I couldn't go. So I'm all fair enough, thats cool whatever boys night is fine. But then I call Sean and hes all 'Why aren't you here, were getting drinks' and I'm like all sad because they're having a mini party I guess and I wasn't invited (or so I thought) and then I call Jay an hour later and hes all like talking and I hear Anthony 'Why aren't you here Dakota?' and I'm like dying on the inside because I wasn't invited and I never get to have any fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO BECAUSE I HAVE A VAGINA I BURST INTO TEARS ON THE PHONE AND CRY TO JAY ABOUT HOW I'M SAD BECAUSE I NEVER HAVE ANY FUN AND HE APOLOGISES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was the end of it. Instead of sitting here all night feeling like shit thinking that Jay hates me I now know that it was all just Jay thinking that its only possible for me to have fun with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless&amp;nbsp;of everything I feel so bad/sad when I hear friends be like 'Why aren't you here?' because I feel like I need Jay to be there to make sure everything runs smoothly almost. I just feel boring and if Jays there I can be 'Jays girlfriend' who is never boring and everything will be fine. I just feel really sad right now because I never have any fun anymore and it feels like Jay is always having fun driving round Keilor Downs with Lucas and bumming around at the milkbar and stuff. He always gets stoned with everyone else too! Its like hes permanently forgotten that I like getting stoned and I have weed under my bed.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1639688572791482644?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1639688572791482644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/blah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1639688572791482644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1639688572791482644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/blah.html' title='Blah'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4668493323553390</id><published>2011-09-05T01:19:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T01:19:49.415+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Well</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Even though I'd like to think that all my trust issues come down to Jay, I think its fairly obvious that other people have played part in creating those well before me and Jay were even dating. So cheers to them for helping create something truly wonderful.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4668493323553390?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4668493323553390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/well.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4668493323553390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4668493323553390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/well.html' title='Well'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3180132459868195773</id><published>2011-09-02T21:26:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T21:26:27.139+10:00</updated><title type='text'>SOME HATE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-origin: initial; background-position: 50% 0%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; color: black; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.4; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; margin-right: 12px; margin-top: 8px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;I get so fucking sick of people. Have I missed the part where I'm an asshole or something? I honestly am just beginning to believe that I have a spilt personality that just appears and treats everyone like shit, because that would explain why everyone shows me the same courtesy that I show them. I have had the worst day. I have $1054 missing from my bank account. Thats right. The bank says it was put in there, they have records it was put in there but its not there. Then, I got another mortifying haircut. I've been crying and crying and just no one fucking cares, and I guess I just missed the point where I treated everyone else like this too. I don't care who the fuck I'm fighting with, if something happens and they're upset I check in on them and make sure they're okay. Everyone else just fucking sucks. Why do I keep waiting for people to step up. No one is ever there. Why the fuck am I still here when theres nothing for me here. There is nothing here for me except for Jay.&lt;br /&gt;I tell myself that hes enough, but he can't be at my side every second of every day.&amp;nbsp;&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/8614219671085610267-3180132459868195773?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3180132459868195773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/some-hate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3180132459868195773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3180132459868195773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/09/some-hate.html' title='SOME HATE'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7771088159497221532</id><published>2011-08-23T22:40:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T22:40:47.412+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I&apos;m going crazy'/><title type='text'>On being bullied</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Ever since I moved to Melbourne, which granted was when I was in say grade 2, I can only remember being bullied by literally everyone. The years I lived in Footscray were great because I had such a close group of friends in Tucker Street. Well not all, we had this one crazy girl who treated us like slaves, and there was this other girl who I met through a babysitter or something and she would always get me to do weird like games where we would literally dress up like whores and pretend to out to bars and have sex with people. I didn't like this for the record, I hated going to her house and my parents would always send me there, I used to cry myself to sleep. One time she &amp;nbsp;fucking slapped me so hard because I didn't want to play her 'games' anymore and when we moved away I didn't have to see her anymore, but that was fucking traumatising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But back to what I was talking about, once I moved to Albanvale I was bullied by a girl I ended up going to&amp;nbsp;high-school&amp;nbsp;with, and that was fucking terrible. Just calling me fat and shit constantly, telling me I had a big ass, that I was ugly, had bad teeth everything under the sun. From grade 3 that all happened, but I was new and she was my 'friend' and all that shit just continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then&amp;nbsp;high-school&amp;nbsp;hit, and I had a particularly bad class of people. So the name calling continued. The year that I actually had a locker, they would draw pictures of me as a really fat person eating cake and all that sort of shit and they put it in my locker, my bag, my pencil case. Everything. So that went on with the boys, and then the girls joined in and would prank call me, take bets on when I would commit suicide all that sort of shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guys eventually got better, and even nicer but the girls just stayed the same. Stayed bitches, would come on here and read this blog and go on about how pathetic I was and my family was and you know what. I think I am only realising now that those things seriously have affected my confidence. I've only started noticing lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always think Jay is up to no good, and I get paranoid if he doesn't pick up. At work if a customer makes comment about a fat person I automatically think they're talking about me, if young people come in and laugh I think its at me, I'm too scared to eat anything other than salad wraps and sushi at work because of how people will look at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then theres the part of me thats putting all this effort into clothing choices to wear around Jay that will make myself look slimmer and more appealing. I'm just getting so paranoid lately and I don't know why. Right now I hate everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day me and Jay went to the movies and I'd spent so much time trying to choose something that would make me look less fat and I was so upset in the car driving to the movies, and he was in the front seat and I was in the back behind him and he didn't know I was upset and he slid his arm behind the chair and just put his hand on my leg. Which sounds stupid, but it was just so comforting. Everything just melted away and I felt fine. But at the same time I was just like why is he wasting his time with me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7771088159497221532?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7771088159497221532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/08/on-being-bullied.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7771088159497221532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7771088159497221532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/08/on-being-bullied.html' title='On being bullied'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-181475299392708322</id><published>2011-08-09T01:35:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T01:35:03.078+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DONT READ IF YOU DON&apos;T LIKE THEM'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FEELINGS ARE GAY'/><title type='text'>You know</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I don't care anymore. If I want to write about Jay and how much I love him, I will. I feel better when I express my fears, concerns and just everything when I write it down. I don't care if you think I am stupid. I don't care if I aggravate you, because I've got something you don't. I've got someone. I've got someone whose hopes and dreams involve me, and thats better than anything because its everything. Everything else can wait. My dreams can wait, because if this all just is young love, then I want to enjoy it because its amazing. As long as I have that. Everything else can wait.&lt;br /&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/8614219671085610267-181475299392708322?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/181475299392708322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/08/you-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/181475299392708322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/181475299392708322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/08/you-know.html' title='You know'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2880258449596773124</id><published>2011-07-13T18:39:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T18:39:26.697+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I am psychic</title><content type='html'>If its too popular, you hate it. I knew it. Just sayin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2880258449596773124?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2880258449596773124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-am-psychic.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2880258449596773124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2880258449596773124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-am-psychic.html' title='I am psychic'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5480700948252192301</id><published>2011-07-02T21:08:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T17:33:59.228+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I never fucking fell in love because its just not fucking worth it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;edit: obviously I was being silly when I wrote this&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-5480700948252192301?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5480700948252192301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-wish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5480700948252192301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5480700948252192301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-wish.html' title='I wish'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-667774841558520937</id><published>2011-07-02T20:35:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T20:35:05.308+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Everyone is my problem. Everything fucks with my relationship. People have always fucked off at some point in time. They get a boyfriend and priorities change, or they just plain old fuck up and talk shit and make your life a living hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have always just been like, fuck it, whatever being alone is fine. Superficial friends are fine. I don't need anything, I'm fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I think that everytime Jay does something wrong I just go, fuck it, lets break up. I quit. I'm a quitter. I just go fuck this. I can't take it. I don't want this anymore. I'm done. I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of the reason I always call him up and just try to break up is because of the fact that I don't like it when things are hard. I don't like having to try when things are hard. I just want everything to work. I also don't like being so scared of what hes doing. He lies to me all the time, and hes cheated on me before (had to get that off my chest, happened over a year ago but still doesn't make me feel any better) so I have reason to be so scared all the time. I have reason. I never deserved it but he still did it. I never cheated on him but he still did it. I've never lied to him but he still does it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want out so bad because I don't like him having that power over me. The power to make me feel physically sick whenever I hear about him lying to me. It just fucks me up and it hurts and I'm tired of it. I just want to either break up, or have him really tell me what he wants. Just have him tell the truth for once.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-667774841558520937?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/667774841558520937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/whatever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/667774841558520937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/667774841558520937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/whatever.html' title='Whatever.'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8949242431954124847</id><published>2011-07-02T20:10:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T20:10:12.622+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear World,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I had written something that I probably should post, but I'm not going to ruin stuff for other people, or make myself look any more stupid because I can't. I'm just going to wait instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything feels so big right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-8949242431954124847?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8949242431954124847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/dear-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8949242431954124847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8949242431954124847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/07/dear-world.html' title='Dear World,'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7641916668725108589</id><published>2011-06-29T22:36:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T22:36:50.962+10:00</updated><title type='text'>You know what</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Why do people have to be so fake? I get it, insecurities and shit, but like why pretend to be something/someone your not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when you let this big persona that you put out to people comes crashing down? What happens then. People&amp;nbsp;subconsciously&amp;nbsp;do things and don't do things so as to attract a certain group of people. I'm not exactly sure for what reasons though. Whats the point of it all? I know this all sounds very cliche but what happens when they don't like you because of the shitty persona you create? Whats wrong with the real person. I just don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't see the point in trying to look cooler to people that you don't really want to know, just people that you want to associate with you. Having those fake friends are not something that you need exactly. I don't get it. I've never got it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7641916668725108589?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7641916668725108589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-know-what.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7641916668725108589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7641916668725108589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-know-what.html' title='You know what'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7533638788081566761</id><published>2011-06-28T22:55:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T22:55:03.780+10:00</updated><title type='text'>On making things hard</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I love Jay, lets start this blog with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in love though. I don't believe in the whole meeting in&amp;nbsp;high-school&amp;nbsp;and staying in love forever thing, because people change and they grow out of&amp;nbsp;each-other&amp;nbsp;even if they don't want to. So my rational mind just always brings up breaking up when me and Jay are talking and he just makes it so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one way its like I'm just trying to prepare myself for what will inevitably happen one day. But everytime I bring it up hes always like 'First of all we won't break up' and 'You're my family' and he just makes me cry because everytime he says it it makes that little part of me that believes that we will break up chip away, and it makes the part of me that goes hey maybe we could stay together forever grow even bigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes he is just so perfect, and it just hurts because even when everyone else talks shit about how much of a bad girlfriend I am to him. When its just me and him, I still feel that I don't deserve him because of how perfect he is just as himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just so scared all the time which is all it comes down to. Hes the only friend I really have. I've accepted that now. I've just slowly lost everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets not forget how much I secretly love it when Jay makes jokes about us having kids in front of people. It just hurts that something like that will most probably never happen because we will grow up.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7533638788081566761?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7533638788081566761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/on-making-things-hard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7533638788081566761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7533638788081566761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/on-making-things-hard.html' title='On making things hard'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6901987610606521283</id><published>2011-06-20T17:44:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T17:44:46.671+10:00</updated><title type='text'>The World</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;is just big and stupid. I'm trying to look into courses for next year and its just like why am I even doing this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6901987610606521283?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6901987610606521283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/world.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6901987610606521283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6901987610606521283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/world.html' title='The World'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-165681434385392520</id><published>2011-06-19T19:45:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T19:45:24.816+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Is just so painful. Even when everything just goes back to normal. You have this little voice in your head telling you that everything is not fine and that everything is just going to get worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice tells you the lies will get bigger. It tells you to get out while you still can. It tells you that he doesn't love you anymore. I am my own worst enemy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-165681434385392520?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/165681434385392520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/165681434385392520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/165681434385392520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3690895137352818119</id><published>2011-06-19T12:12:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T12:12:34.645+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Lies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Make this one short. Caught Jay out telling lies about smoking. I've never ever ever lied to him about anything. No matter how big or small. All he does is lie to me and have everyone else know the truth. Except for me. What am I supposed to make of that? He keeps me in the dark about so much stuff and I just don't know why I bother. I keep asking him if he wants to break up, he always says no. Always. I break up with him, he gets to the point where he cries because he doesn't want to break up and then it goes back to normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes back to doing whatever the fuck he wants and just lies to me about everything. All while wondering why I don't trust him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To top it off, while me and Jay were fighting I had a massive fight with Levi because he owed me money, and I pretty much lost my shit and stopped the fight between me and Jay because I couldn't not have someone at that point in time if that makes sense. I've never yelled at someone like that ever in my life before, and I just really lost my shit at Levi. Jay heard the whole thing, and he freaked out about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just so sick of people treating me like shit, and I have to put on this great big obnoxious exterior so I just appear as though everything is fine and that I don't really care that everyones just treating me like crap. I am just wondering when it will be my time to look after myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I'm just wondering what I'm really doing. I love Jay so much. I really do. I've never loved anything as much as I love him I just don't think I can take any more of it from him. He really is just so cavalier about everything when it comes to him and just I'm tired of being hurt by him because of his own selfish reasons. I'm tired of feeling so weak because of him. I'm tired of hurting and I don't know what to do anymore because I love him so much it just clouds everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story short. Life really does suck sometimes.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3690895137352818119?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3690895137352818119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/lies.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3690895137352818119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3690895137352818119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/lies.html' title='Lies'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8002986192635193225</id><published>2011-06-18T04:41:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T04:41:04.287+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Loophole</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm gonna cut straight to the point. For ages I knew Jay was going to be performing a song, but tonight was the first time I heard it was a song that he wrote. So Carta Extremis are playing and Jays just waiting to join in with them, and he gets this lyric book with this song that he wrote, and I asked him if I could read it. At first he said no, but then he said yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I read was the most hateful thing that had ever come from him, because naturally hes a really gentle person, who doesn't like hate anything at all. This song was just full of shit that I thought was directed at me, and it finished with 'I just want to be free'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this and go holy shit, me and Jay are fucking over. I don't want to cry in front of everyone. So I just swallow the hurt and continue taking photos. Questioning the whole time what I did wrong to deserve such a bashing without any warning (He asked me to go to Disney on ice with him not 2 hours before). Granted you couldn't understand the lyrics, but his friends and my friends had read the lyrics and seen what he wrote (I can't remember it all) and half of me was like, Dakota its over and this is just his way of telling you that. The other half goes, this is just him imitating the music he listens to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He eventually plays and I confront him about it later and he gets super angry that I'm upset that I thought the song was about me. Seriously what else could it be about. Then all our friends are there and I'm like, well this conversation can't really continue. I was freaking out on the inside because this angry hateful Jay just like popped up out of no where and suddenly he didn't love me anymore and I was just like is this real life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This all ends with me at Janes trying not to cry even though I was dying to, whilst texting Jay asking what the fuck was up. He was just imitating what he was used to and he just didn't think about how I would read it. Granted it was written really well, I even thought that as I was reading it because usually Jay is like Jay when he writes but this was just someone I didn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got off the phone with him crying about how when I read that song I thought I had lost my best friend and my boyfriend all in the one and he apologised and kept&amp;nbsp;insisting&amp;nbsp;it was nothing, and just words. Writing this makes me feel a little bit better, but not that much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just have a hard time with me and Jay and what other people think of us. I have this view that everyone thinks hes too good for me, and that I'm holding him back or something and when I read that it was like Jay was saying it to me and I was just turning to shit on the inside. It was horrible reading that. I just feel so shit though. If that didn't happen I would of had an awesome night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/8614219671085610267-8002986192635193225?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8002986192635193225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/loophole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8002986192635193225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8002986192635193225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/loophole.html' title='Loophole'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7775602649059459339</id><published>2011-06-09T21:33:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T21:33:45.334+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Anchors</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am so full of hate and anger all the time. Its just getting beyond my grips right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7775602649059459339?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7775602649059459339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/anchors.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7775602649059459339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7775602649059459339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/anchors.html' title='Anchors'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2995057430601311251</id><published>2011-06-03T17:34:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T17:34:09.132+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Monster</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I fucking hate my job. Its official. I just can't do it anymore. I don't want to sign the contract. I just don't. I don't want to work as much and earn less. Yeah I know I get it back in annual and stuff but how much do I have to work to actually earn any annual. I would have to work 6 months before my annual actually&amp;nbsp;amounted&amp;nbsp;up into anything and even then its a small anything. Its just not worth it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even see the point of it. My pay would go from $14.20 an hour to $11.63 an hour. Its a monster jump. My hours wouldn't even go up that much. I just don't want to anymore. I'm sick of just feeling so crappy because of my job. It sucks because I like everyone there. I just can't do it anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2995057430601311251?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2995057430601311251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/monster.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2995057430601311251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2995057430601311251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/monster.html' title='Monster'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8120699901002961685</id><published>2011-06-02T22:56:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T22:56:46.314+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Do not date me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;for I am just the worst girlfriend ever. I let everything get into my head. I mean everything. TV shows, songs, friends relationships, shit people say in general. Everything. I just am so bad at relationships its not funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe everyone thought I was some crazy whack abusive girlfriend that makes Jay cry all the time. Such bullshit. I don't even know why anyone would believe that. Anyone who reads this knows that all Jay does is be himself and I get all hormonal and crazy and just insane and I have a bad week so the worlds ending and just goodness. So tiring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-8120699901002961685?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8120699901002961685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/do-not-date-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8120699901002961685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8120699901002961685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/06/do-not-date-me.html' title='Do not date me'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6944613903591930500</id><published>2011-05-30T19:20:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T19:20:48.707+10:00</updated><title type='text'>ADVERSE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I really enjoy reading your comments, they always make me feel better!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6944613903591930500?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6944613903591930500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/adverse.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6944613903591930500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6944613903591930500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/adverse.html' title='ADVERSE'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3615201900841586684</id><published>2011-05-30T01:55:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T01:55:46.231+10:00</updated><title type='text'>If</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;If I could erase one trait it would be my insecurities. I have lots of them but I would just like to get rid of the one that makes me feel so shit when compared with other girls. They're all flirty with him now because 'hes cool' and 'hes hot' now and its frustrating because I don't trust them. They don't know me and its just the same old bullshit. I just wish I didn't have to be like, this person because of them. I'm just trying not to care you know, I don't want to be like Marko's girlfriend and be all overbearing and smothering and crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just really don't want my insecurities about Jay and other girls to start fights between us because were perfect. We get along great together, its when were apart that things get shitty and half the time its not even our own doing. Its something else thats happened thats brought it up. Long story short. Fuck this shit. Other stupidly hot girls suck for making me feel increasingly more shit about my self worth every day when it comes to me and Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be lovely if Jay still looked like the nerdy long haired boy that he used to be because thats who he really is. This new hair and new clothes makes him look like a different person. Appealing to a whole new type of girl. The shallow, empty and vain bitches that only like him because of the clothes he wears and not because he farts everywhere all the time. Even on old ladies. True story bro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will guys come round to the sloppy, chubby slightly manly looking girl so Jay can actually understand how I feel. I'm just a girl who turns into a fucking idiot when it comes to her boyfriend. I'm turning the fucking idiot onto the internet though, so Jay only has a faint idea of what I'm talking about when I make jokes about this shit. Relationships are scary when you are an insecure girl. I know I have nothing to worry about too. Jay is Jay. Its as simple as that. Its always been Jay and Dakota.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3615201900841586684?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3615201900841586684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/if.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3615201900841586684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3615201900841586684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/if.html' title='If'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1046772306378331613</id><published>2011-05-29T18:54:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-29T18:54:25.661+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Maree and Dave</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;They broke up. They really actually broke up. I was at Jay's when I first read her tumblr posts, and I started crying. I was crying so much I couldn't read the post because it was so blurry. I don't even know why I cried. Its just really really sad and its really scary. Three years is a long time. It scares me because of how upset she is, and even though this sounds selfish. I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want to lose Jay. I don't want to think of a time when I can't text him, or call him before bed. Its really scary and now I'm crying because of how scared I am. I spent, from Friday at 7pm with him till 5:30pm today with him. It was &amp;nbsp;perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't think of my life without him. Hes so stupidly nice to me. He knows how to make me feel better and hes just been the best thing ever this past few weeks. Its just stupid how happy and how grateful he is for everything he has. Hes so positive too, like he always sees the best in bad situations. I am just going to try and chill the fuck out from now on, because a life without Jay is seriously just not imaginable.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1046772306378331613?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1046772306378331613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/maree-and-dave.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1046772306378331613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1046772306378331613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/maree-and-dave.html' title='Maree and Dave'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4988265340565870414</id><published>2011-05-24T02:00:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T02:00:46.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm tired of feeling like the bad person cont.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Oh how the happiness about looking good for one night wore off quickly. I just want to acknowledge that I did feel extremely crappy about me and Jay again. I felt crappy because I felt I wasn't good enough for him. I cried to Jay, I cried to Levi and I cried to Maree. I didn't feel like I was worthy enough, and I was tired of people thinking I am the bad person. I was beginning to think that it was all in my head and peoples behaviours around me was normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was beginning to think that I was the bad person. I'd felt it for so long, and just now I can't believe any of it. You know tonight everything actually felt normal again. I had a great weekend and me and Jay have been doing really well lately (thats right, I'm posting the good now too) and you know I listened to The Bright Side again, and it didn't hurt. November 18th felt like it was just a song again. Everything felt normal, and I&amp;nbsp;acknowledged&amp;nbsp;to Jay that things were feeling really good again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then everything just went sour, and I've just been crying non-stop since 11pm. Jay was the best thing I could ever have asked for tonight. He said all the right things and he stood by me&amp;nbsp;completely&amp;nbsp;and whole heartedly. Its just really hard I guess. I can't believe I was getting so upset about how everyone was treating me like I was a bad person and it was just all for nothing. It was all crap and I was just blind I guess. I'm so stupid. I'm so fucking stupid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4988265340565870414?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4988265340565870414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-tired-of-feeling-like-bad-person_24.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4988265340565870414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4988265340565870414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-tired-of-feeling-like-bad-person_24.html' title='I&apos;m tired of feeling like the bad person cont.'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7957353126235980679</id><published>2011-05-23T21:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T21:29:32.066+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking at photos from this past weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;It is seriously the first time I have looked back on photos and been like, happy with the way I look. So forgive me for all the me spam, I'm just happy that I looked good for once!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Zn8Txf7N-U/TdpEXwdxKMI/AAAAAAAACCQ/mzSPqebX84c/s1600/IMG_5907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Zn8Txf7N-U/TdpEXwdxKMI/AAAAAAAACCQ/mzSPqebX84c/s400/IMG_5907.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dD2evEVqD3M/TdpEZ7VuekI/AAAAAAAACCU/He7iXQcGdEQ/s1600/IMG_5947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dD2evEVqD3M/TdpEZ7VuekI/AAAAAAAACCU/He7iXQcGdEQ/s400/IMG_5947.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uPzDE2Vz6tI/TdpEcFR8deI/AAAAAAAACCY/3u6RSbWFjZQ/s1600/IMG_5985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uPzDE2Vz6tI/TdpEcFR8deI/AAAAAAAACCY/3u6RSbWFjZQ/s400/IMG_5985.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-urUQZSxvwlA/TdpEeQyRrkI/AAAAAAAACCc/XRsSqgJUt2w/s1600/IMG_5998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-urUQZSxvwlA/TdpEeQyRrkI/AAAAAAAACCc/XRsSqgJUt2w/s400/IMG_5998.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mLHuTxD-Q4U/TdpEgw542gI/AAAAAAAACCg/S6yMJRzsoGs/s1600/IMG_6018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mLHuTxD-Q4U/TdpEgw542gI/AAAAAAAACCg/S6yMJRzsoGs/s400/IMG_6018.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5k7TsngaVuE/TdpEjfHM23I/AAAAAAAACCk/7XlZfPTGMAc/s1600/IMG_6019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5k7TsngaVuE/TdpEjfHM23I/AAAAAAAACCk/7XlZfPTGMAc/s400/IMG_6019.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jPs8tsyzyc/TdpEl_tLaaI/AAAAAAAACCo/0l__PtGdxlU/s1600/IMG_6029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jPs8tsyzyc/TdpEl_tLaaI/AAAAAAAACCo/0l__PtGdxlU/s400/IMG_6029.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OiEV93SaLcM/TdpEq0Fi_uI/AAAAAAAACCw/atU1bqR2Hls/s1600/IMG_6053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OiEV93SaLcM/TdpEq0Fi_uI/AAAAAAAACCw/atU1bqR2Hls/s400/IMG_6053.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FNk-Y_M-cXc/TdpEtXjkphI/AAAAAAAACC0/CtloaT61Dy8/s1600/IMG_6089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FNk-Y_M-cXc/TdpEtXjkphI/AAAAAAAACC0/CtloaT61Dy8/s400/IMG_6089.jpg" width="400" /&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;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;It also would seem that I actually have collar bones again!&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/8614219671085610267-7957353126235980679?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7957353126235980679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/looking-at-photos-from-this-past.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7957353126235980679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7957353126235980679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/looking-at-photos-from-this-past.html' title='Looking at photos from this past weekend'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Zn8Txf7N-U/TdpEXwdxKMI/AAAAAAAACCQ/mzSPqebX84c/s72-c/IMG_5907.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1214437635364941329</id><published>2011-05-23T20:20:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T20:20:12.721+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm tired of feeling like the bad person</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;and thats all it comes down to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1214437635364941329?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1214437635364941329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-tired-of-feeling-like-bad-person.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1214437635364941329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1214437635364941329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-tired-of-feeling-like-bad-person.html' title='I&apos;m tired of feeling like the bad person'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1031205533218948379</id><published>2011-05-22T21:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T21:46:34.827+10:00</updated><title type='text'>On you pitying me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Don't. Its as simple is that. The pity that you feel for me that blocks out the hate. I don't appreciate it. Its even worse than the hate in my opinion. Because friends feel sorry for friends, and since you guys don't want to be my friends anymore there is no need for you to let the pity that you feel for me get in the way of all the hating you want to do. I'm just hurt that people I considered friends have&amp;nbsp;apparently&amp;nbsp;hated me all this time because I'm so negative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this I don't know if this is news to you but, why don't you just not read this stuff. If I'm so negative don't read it. I don't read your negative stuff when I don't want to so why don't you do the same. I didn't carry on bitching about either of you to people because I thought you were negative. I didn't say anything about it. I acknowledged that you were feeling shit and thats how your expressing yourself. Obviously you didn't want to extend the same courtesy to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Using the one night I went out with you guys as an excuse to hate me is ridiculous. I didn't expect you to leave the city because I wanted to go home, I expected you to let me leave the city when I wanted to go home. Don't pressure me to stay and drag me across the city when I don't want to be there. I had this thing called work to go to at 10am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know why I'm bothering justifying myself when I've done absolutely nothing wrong. The only thing I did wrong was believe that you guys were friends. My bad, I won't make that mistake in the future if you don't want to be associated with me anymore.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1031205533218948379?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1031205533218948379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/on-you-pitying-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1031205533218948379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1031205533218948379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/on-you-pitying-me.html' title='On you pitying me'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7109179611821516003</id><published>2011-05-17T00:45:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T00:45:09.206+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Party down</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-637W1NZHQGk/TdE4Q6d3VsI/AAAAAAAACCM/dykThxBBPlo/s1600/Photo+on+2011-04-25+at+23.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-637W1NZHQGk/TdE4Q6d3VsI/AAAAAAAACCM/dykThxBBPlo/s640/Photo+on+2011-04-25+at+23.21.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This should not be as funny as it is&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/8614219671085610267-7109179611821516003?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7109179611821516003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/party-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7109179611821516003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7109179611821516003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/party-down.html' title='Party down'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-637W1NZHQGk/TdE4Q6d3VsI/AAAAAAAACCM/dykThxBBPlo/s72-c/Photo+on+2011-04-25+at+23.21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1242117346153636872</id><published>2011-05-17T00:07:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T00:07:33.427+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;My mum is so good at turning everything around so its all about her, its fucking annoying. She just never has any idea about whats going on with me and between her and dad neither of them supported me in the photography era of my life, they are all for me having a better future then them as long as I do everything by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She keeps telling me to move out like she is some sort of fucking moron or something. I can't even say anything true without her just spinning my words into stuff like I hate my family and crap and then she wonders why I stay in 'my own little world'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family is all about Levi, and whatever thats fine its just so annoying to only hear them all fighting. I stay out of it, I can feel crap enough without having to listen to their shit. I can easily spend time with my mum and I can easily spend time with my dad they're just both so stupid and selfish that its insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They don't notice anything when it comes to me. At all. Its almost like I have to do drugs right in front of them to notice something. I would move into Jay's if I could. I would move out if I could but I can't. You want me to go to uni and be absolutely fucking poor for the next 3 years, then thats fine, but it just means you both have to support me. I've paid for pretty much everything I own. I ask for barely anything and my mum still acts like I ask the world of her and I just don't see the point to anything anymore and I'm so scared of everything.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1242117346153636872?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1242117346153636872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1242117346153636872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1242117346153636872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/family.html' title='Family'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5072169534059003768</id><published>2011-05-16T22:42:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T22:42:23.482+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Dean</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I know you're on here :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-5072169534059003768?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5072169534059003768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/hi-dean.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5072169534059003768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5072169534059003768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/hi-dean.html' title='Hi Dean'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2690150354073722877</id><published>2011-05-15T23:42:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T23:42:11.482+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Numb</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;seriously&amp;nbsp;feel like I just got given feelings out of nowhere&amp;nbsp;one-day. I never used to be this girl who loved anyone. My mum describes me as a cold person at times because I don't show affection towards others, which is ironic because I'm not like that at all. I get so scared of a life without Jay that I freak out and cry. I am so crazy, I'm not even hormonal. I literally just feel like I got given feelings out of no where. I just used to be really angry and it wasn't even real anger it was just shit talk all the time. Now its pain and sadness and just crap really. I just don't know what the fuck is going on with me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck happened to me? I didn't used to have feelings about anything really, I never used to care, I avoided relationships, I avoided liking people, I made myself attracted to people I would easily hate. The only other guy I've dated aside from Jay was Rhys and I didn't even like him. We didn't kiss, we were nothing, which is probably why he cheated on me with that girl, that hurt, but only because I felt betrayed, I didn't care because I got over it. I cried once, and it was more for the friendship. He seemed like a nice dude but he was so pathetic its hilarious. I was constantly making fun of him, and that was just because I didn't care. I had no real feelings for him, and it was just funny that he liked me. Other guys I thought I liked never lasted long because I knew it was a waste of time. So I would just turn it off, and it was easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the while theres this other person trying to get my attention and I just act like the biggest bitch ever and yeah I don't know. Everything feels stupid and make believe and reality and illusion are just fucking&amp;nbsp;each-other&amp;nbsp;and the lines are becoming blurred and I don't want to say what I really feel and what I really believe because its crazy and I don't feel like being that girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2690150354073722877?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2690150354073722877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/numb.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2690150354073722877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2690150354073722877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/numb.html' title='Numb'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4352104141835357583</id><published>2011-05-15T23:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T23:29:16.229+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm crazy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I really like Jay, like heaps. We were watching tv the other day and there was a kid that was all demonic and&amp;nbsp;possessed&amp;nbsp;and he was like 'Man if we ever have a kid like that its going to hell' and he just kept saying 'When we have kids' and all that stuff. Obviously they're just words you know, were both kids and stuff still but it just dawned on me that I hate kids. I can't stand them, I don't know how to deal with them. I know it would be a different story if they were my kids because they would be mine and stuff, but I just don't know in many ways whether or not I would be able to sacrifice so much for something so unknown. But, for Jay I don't think I would mind so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom line is, Jay was just entertaining the idea of the future and in some ways it got me upset because I realised I think for one of the first times how nice that would be to have kids with him someday. Everyone who knows me is reading this and thinking what the fuck, but I don't know. Sure I do my fair share of complaining about him, but theres as much good as there is bad. I heard someone say once that a marriage is only as good as the relationship is. I don't think I'd ever get married, but, when me and Jay work we work so well. Were perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just so scared, were not even grown up, were nowhere close to growing up and like I know in reality we will break up eventually because right now we are kids and nothing ever lasts. We still have to grow up and that will happen at different times, and though its fun to joke about when were older and have demonic kids in some ways it hurts because I know that will never ever happen. People don't stay together anymore, and even though I feel that I've got something special with Jay because of all our history I just don't think its possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right now, I feel shit because the world is moving too fast for me to handle and I just don't have the time to stop and appreciate what me and Jay have. Right now I feel that everything will continue as is and then before I know it someday we just won't be together anymore. It will just end, and I'm scared because I love him so much it hurts and if this is what it feels like just to love him, what will it be like when/if we end?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I used to be a total badass, but now I'm just some weak fragile girl who cries over the potential future)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4352104141835357583?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4352104141835357583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-crazy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4352104141835357583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4352104141835357583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-crazy.html' title='I&apos;m crazy.'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2827792664939760899</id><published>2011-05-11T23:11:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T23:11:33.150+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Love. Its a weird thing you know? I just find myself driven insane by it. Me and Jay are great right now, and I'm still scared all the time. You just see everyday how one person makes a tiny mistake and then bang, shits all over. People are like enjoy it while you can blah blah blah but even when things are going right shit still hurts because for me I am just constantly worried that really things are not alright and everything is wrong and terrible and scary pretty much. I am so scared all the time with stuff. I've been sort of distancing myself from Jay, theres nothing wrong it just seems like the right thing to do right now. Just give myself time to get caught up in myself. Just time to be selfish I guess. Not that I'm not selfish when I'm with him, but selfish I mean just time to not think about him and not revolve stuff around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just relaxing and trying to figure out what I am capable of, and once Jays out of school things will get different again and it will be something new for us to get used to I guess. I've made 10 goals to accomplish by the end of the year, 5 long term and 5 short term. Before you laugh at how hilarious this may sound, its just a drive for me to actually finish stuff for once and I know that by completing these things I'll be happier one way or another you know. When I cross one off then I'll post the list, but its pretty funny I think. I don't know. I tried to keep Jay off the list (the whole distancing thing you know, being selfish, all about me, little(BIG) princess Dakota yaya wooo) &amp;lt; not really, but you get my drift.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2827792664939760899?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2827792664939760899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/yeah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2827792664939760899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2827792664939760899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/yeah.html' title='Yeah'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5671254880121744342</id><published>2011-05-01T16:09:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T16:09:22.865+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Point</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm at that point where I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Nothing at all feels right, and everything just feels wrong and I'm left feeling permanently sick to my stomach about everything. I feel fake, and I'm tired of pretending. Is this all there is? I feel like theres just no point to anything anymore. I'm just a kid and I'm a total cliche whiney teenager who bitches and moans about how hard life is and whatever I can cop that. I just don't see the point anymore. Nothing is good anymore. Everything is stupid and wake, and I'm tired of waiting. I'm always waiting. It's always my fault. I'm tired of trying to change so things will be better. Why do I have to change to suit everything around me. I can't do it anymore. Its pointless and stupid and I'm tired of feeling like this. I know what I have to do, I just don't want to do it because I know it will hurt and it will suck and it could be the biggest mistake I've ever made but I see no other options. I just don't now what I'm meant to do anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Levi hits bongs when he can't handle it.&lt;br /&gt;Dad drinks when he can't handle it.&lt;br /&gt;Mum either goes doctors&amp;nbsp;or to alternative healing when she can't handle it.&lt;br /&gt;Jay ignores me when he can't handle it.&lt;br /&gt;What do I do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-5671254880121744342?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5671254880121744342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/point.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5671254880121744342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5671254880121744342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/05/point.html' title='Point'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4371287273906115639</id><published>2011-04-29T00:43:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T00:43:59.667+10:00</updated><title type='text'>You know what</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Fucking KFC I hate that joint. I need somewhere new to work now. First of all I had an amazing night at Katy Perry, while I'm there work texts me and I'm just like ignored. Then I decide hey, I need that shift because they never have me work ever anymore. Wonderful I think, I just picked up a 6 hour shift. No Dakota. Wrong. Its a fucking 6 - 11 shift which sounds good and well, 5 hours fantastic. Well no, its not even five hours. They will send me on break through my shift, makes it 4 and a half hours, then they will send me on break again at 10pm takes it down to 4 hours. So in other words. Fuck the world, KFC is a load of shit and I'm sick of it. I pretty much just feel like I get treated with no respect at all there anymore. I used to be considered a good worker, and now I'm treated like a fucking bad worker. Treated like shit. Shifts get majorly cut, I'm talking 33 hours down to 14 hours, 17 IF I'm lucky and I have no fucking choice other than to take it because well I have no other fucking choice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4371287273906115639?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4371287273906115639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/you-know-what.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4371287273906115639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4371287273906115639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/you-know-what.html' title='You know what'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1042042404187829428</id><published>2011-04-26T17:34:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T17:34:05.302+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Believe me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;when I do get a new job, I will go to KFC and be the most difficult customer ever!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1042042404187829428?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1042042404187829428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/believe-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1042042404187829428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1042042404187829428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/believe-me.html' title='Believe me'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2510790189822762497</id><published>2011-04-17T12:31:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T12:31:01.288+10:00</updated><title type='text'>ADVERSE cont.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;KFC is actually a hard job. Its like a family for me, and I'm the eldest and if something goes wrong I get punished for it in the form of shifts lost. I know that sounds hilarious but I honestly am one of the only people who does my job right continuously. I don't even complain when I'm put on window. When the day staff changeover into the night staff we have a changeover and honest to god, I feel like I'm the only one who ever does it sometimes. I'll be on front with someone and they do nothing. Everyone there is selfish and I've had managers just say to me 'Your staying back and doing my krusher close tonight'&amp;nbsp;regardless&amp;nbsp;of whether I had plans or not. Its an extremely negative and selfish&amp;nbsp;environment&amp;nbsp;at times. I can't complain about it because the managers are all best friends and it will not be said in confidence. There is favouritism and no matter how hard I work, I will not get the shifts over others because I'm not them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If thats not stupid enough, I went from 37 hours a week, to 14 in a matter of two weeks and I missed out on ALL public holidays. The girl who does the roster is on 38 hours this week and gets ALL public holidays. See what I mean, hard work does not get&amp;nbsp;recognised. I've never done anything wrong by them, I'm never lazy, or do a job half ass, I am a really good worker. Favouritism there is terrible and I'm the odd one out because I refuse to be assholes like the rest of them. They're this little group of people that are just really connected and I'm not a part of that, so I just don't get preference and I can't anymore. Its just having a negative effect on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yes, I will be quitting in the next month or two. As soon as I find another job I am leaving. So theres something good to look forward to :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2510790189822762497?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2510790189822762497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/adverse-cont.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2510790189822762497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2510790189822762497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/adverse-cont.html' title='ADVERSE cont.'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8101814897760964508</id><published>2011-04-16T18:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T18:46:44.712+10:00</updated><title type='text'>ADVERSE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Hi there, I don't know what I exactly want to run away from it just feels too overwhelming here now. Nothing goes to plan anymore, and I just don't want to try and make things fine here anymore because its just pointless. The people here are getting more and more selfish and stupid and I just tired of trying to gain approval from people here. I work my ass off at KFC and I do the right thing but I don't get acknowledged for it. I take photos and my parents never look at them. I'm just tired of trying here when no one cares. My household just does this to me sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just a cry baby teenager that doesn't like growing up early because its ruining everything, and right now running away seems like it will solve it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-8101814897760964508?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8101814897760964508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/adverse.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8101814897760964508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8101814897760964508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/adverse.html' title='ADVERSE'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1038266749052754497</id><published>2011-04-06T20:38:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T20:38:07.612+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Cut the shit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I think I'll just cut my ties and go London. In all seriousness. Someone come with me, I just want to go. I can't be here anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1038266749052754497?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1038266749052754497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/cut-shit.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1038266749052754497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1038266749052754497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/cut-shit.html' title='Cut the shit'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2734976317458730274</id><published>2011-04-06T20:05:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T20:05:06.791+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Why do I always say it first? Seriously, I need to grow some balls. I read through old fights I've had and I'm always the one to say sorry first. Fuck half the time I didn't even start the shit yet I say sorry first. Fuck off its so stupid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2734976317458730274?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2734976317458730274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/sorry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2734976317458730274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2734976317458730274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/sorry.html' title='Sorry'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1890407262160104234</id><published>2011-04-06T19:57:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T19:57:28.351+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Exhausted</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Take two: I decided not to post what I&amp;nbsp;originally&amp;nbsp;wrote because asode from being extremely depressing I just can't be fucked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1890407262160104234?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1890407262160104234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/exhausted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1890407262160104234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1890407262160104234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/exhausted.html' title='Exhausted'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-573989442228586550</id><published>2011-04-04T22:39:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T22:39:51.015+10:00</updated><title type='text'>This may sound mean</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;But I don't know why I ever felt threatened now, because Jay came over this afternoon and we just chilled and there was lots of play fighting and Russian accents. Were too comfortable around each other for our own good. Its honestly terrible how much we don't care anymore. Only Jay knows how insane how I honestly truly am. Like dear lord, he sees me at my complete and utter like sanity-n't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally I obviously do still feel scared, and you know all that self-conscious&amp;nbsp;crap that goes along with it but thats only because I've got something to lose. Jay assures me though, that I won't be losing anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the game.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-573989442228586550?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/573989442228586550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/this-may-sound-mean.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/573989442228586550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/573989442228586550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/this-may-sound-mean.html' title='This may sound mean'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2235139262240494970</id><published>2011-04-04T18:03:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T18:03:59.389+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Completely unrelated</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I do not deny that that entire friendship was a scientific experiment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2235139262240494970?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2235139262240494970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/completely-unrelated.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2235139262240494970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2235139262240494970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/completely-unrelated.html' title='Completely unrelated'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3806340513732721979</id><published>2011-04-04T17:55:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T17:55:26.726+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Why</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;must I always look so severely intoxicated in photos. Like its beyond me. How do I manage to look like &amp;nbsp;complete drunk moron. Half the time i'm not even smashed I just press the button when I know I have a downy face on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3806340513732721979?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3806340513732721979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/why.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3806340513732721979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3806340513732721979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/why.html' title='Why'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8318868468817647864</id><published>2011-04-04T17:45:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T17:45:37.404+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I have no name</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Every time I see something about me on Facebook its always 'Jay's girlfriend' I have a name you know. As much as I love Jay, and love to be associated with him because he is obviously my boyfriend, seriously, I am Dakota. Got it, Da ko ta. Seriously just learn how to understand that once people start dating the retain their names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is still being all weird and stupid yet not stupid at the same time. Like everyones all you have absolutely nothing at all to worry about, and at the same time they're like yeah I don't know why she would bother because its obvious that nothing is going to happen because you and Jay are you and Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is telling me what I'm supposed to do, and everyone is acting stupid about it. Like all I want to know is if I should honestly just be like, hey is it true? and if she says yes, I'd just be like my bad and we could continue being pleasant acquaintances. I'm not going to 'start a fight' like people have suggested I should. I'm no crazy girlfriend. I'm just a self-conscious one, and it all ends with no one really making me feel any better except for Jay and Georgia who just sort of checked in with me to see if I was feeling better since Saturday. Which obviously I'm not, but these things happen and you gotta get through it. Jays not going anywhere, and if he was ever at a party with her I'd be there, he only sees her in school and whatever. He's only got school for another 6 months, not even. So life is once again fine in the dyad of me and Jay. Its only ever not fine for me though hahah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still on a diet though. First diet ever! Should be excited. I'll keep this updated about it. I'm determined not to utterly fail for once!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-8318868468817647864?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8318868468817647864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-have-no-name.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8318868468817647864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8318868468817647864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-have-no-name.html' title='I have no name'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-347301462169802797</id><published>2011-04-03T23:00:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T23:00:32.787+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I think my mind just goes, look, lets see how far we can push her tonight. I really think that it does. There is a part of me that just loves to see me fail, and just fuck things up. That part of me is doing such a good job at just being an asshole and ruining everything. I just don't understand why it has to be such an asshole. I'm just so fucking tired you know? Ugh I'm at the point tonight where even Max Bemis isn't making me feel any better. Now thats saying something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-347301462169802797?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/347301462169802797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/seriously.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/347301462169802797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/347301462169802797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/seriously.html' title='Seriously'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1396063797025324234</id><published>2011-04-03T22:12:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T22:12:18.237+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I have to be</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm seriously going fucking insane. God, mother fucking hormones fucking my goddamn shit up making me this sad sack of shit. Since when do I openly care about anything. Since when do I get super paranoid. I genuinely think I'm loosing my shit here. Like I seriously am loosing my shit. My shit = lost. I'm going crazy. Dear lord, help me, I am taking hold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1396063797025324234?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1396063797025324234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-have-to-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1396063797025324234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1396063797025324234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-have-to-be.html' title='I have to be'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3442345925666010932</id><published>2011-04-03T21:14:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T21:14:57.881+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Find your own</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm just craving to get out of Australia, or perhaps civilisation. I long to just be somewhere where nothing happens at all. Oh deary me would that be lovely. I don't need much at all. I really don't. Just a little peace and quiet and a Jay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3442345925666010932?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3442345925666010932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/find-your-own.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3442345925666010932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3442345925666010932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/find-your-own.html' title='Find your own'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5536130276816520454</id><published>2011-04-03T20:20:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T20:20:32.286+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll do anything to lose weight except for diet and exercise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Well not anymore. I'm going on a diet, because fuck feeling crappy over wobbly bits. If I lost 10kgs, I would be over the moon, and you know, thats not that much. I would be happier then, and everything will be sweet because I will be a smaller version of myself. Hopefully that will just rebuild some lost self esteem. I was talking to Jay about it because I got really upset over myself (if that makes any sense) and you know, he was like 'At Dean's, everyone was saying how pretty you are' and stuff. Thats all good and well for people to say it but I'd like to actually feel that way, and seriously, what else do you say to a crying drunk bitch when she is doubting herself. I don't like feeling like people are forced to say stuff like that to me. Its not cool, and just yeah. So heres to me. I'll try and stay true. I just learned how to make homemade rice paper rolls like a mad cunt (see below) so I will be&amp;nbsp;scoffing&amp;nbsp;those down like theres no tomorrow. Hopefully I'll fix myself. Wish me luck!&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/-Tg4Dv1LEc4c/TZhJmHpg5tI/AAAAAAAACCI/13WjLpL1q30/s1600/Photo+on+2011-04-03+at+19.38+%25232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg4Dv1LEc4c/TZhJmHpg5tI/AAAAAAAACCI/13WjLpL1q30/s400/Photo+on+2011-04-03+at+19.38+%25232.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/8614219671085610267-5536130276816520454?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5536130276816520454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/ill-do-anything-to-lose-weight-except.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5536130276816520454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5536130276816520454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/ill-do-anything-to-lose-weight-except.html' title='I&apos;ll do anything to lose weight except for diet and exercise'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg4Dv1LEc4c/TZhJmHpg5tI/AAAAAAAACCI/13WjLpL1q30/s72-c/Photo+on+2011-04-03+at+19.38+%25232.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2711191538382969071</id><published>2011-04-03T16:23:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T16:23:06.440+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Mooods</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm tired and I have to be getting my period because I watched Holly's World and cried for like&amp;nbsp;dead set&amp;nbsp;an hour and a half. So I'm going fucking mental. I still don't feel any better about the said girl liking Jay situation. I really had to withhold calling that a snitch-uation even though it holds next to no&amp;nbsp;relevancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to go into like diet and exercise mode and become Marco so people find me hot and sexy so that Jay can actually understand how I feel, although I doubt that would work as my personality would send the boys running for the hills. People only care about your looks on first impression though don't they?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2711191538382969071?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2711191538382969071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/mooods.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2711191538382969071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2711191538382969071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/mooods.html' title='Mooods'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3376828465176371125</id><published>2011-04-03T11:06:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T11:06:05.453+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad feelings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;So I was pretty much having the universe tell me not to go to Dean's party. I woke up and no matter what I put on I looked fat, and then my hair just wouldn't go right and I washed the wrong party dress so I had to wear another dress and I was like, seriously something really bad is going to happen tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I started having like lots and lots of fun, and I was singing loud and dancing and drinking and being my loud drunk self, then Jake tells me that a popular girl at school that Jay now hangs around likes him. I am/was pretty much like whoopty fucking doo this girl who is like skinny and perfect likes Jay and she is around him at school and just yay for me. Woo hoo Dakota enjoy that. The universe just validates your fears about Jay hanging around the people he is now, theres nothing wrong with them, I really like all of them you know but its just like an added stress and stuff when you have to worry about girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone gets all 'Dakota its Jay' and it really means nothing to me. I know what girls are like, they stop at nothing to get what they want. I don't think this girl would do that, it just sucks how she is skinny and cool and perfect and I am and always will be fat, sloppy boring crazy Dakota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spoke to Levi about it and hes just validating my fears. I think hes the only person thats like you know, you have a right to feel this way. I just feel like I have something to lose and I don't think anyones really getting that at all like I don't want to feel scared and self&amp;nbsp;conscious&amp;nbsp;around Jay because other girls have finally started noticing him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta say, life feels really gay now. Just more waiting for me. I hate feeling so stupid and tired of feeling stupid and scared all the time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3376828465176371125?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3376828465176371125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/bad-feelings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3376828465176371125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3376828465176371125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/bad-feelings.html' title='Bad feelings'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8448818377700197279</id><published>2011-04-01T21:34:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T21:34:10.023+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I had a bad one last night. I'll give you the gist of it. I was in a haunted house, and me and some other people I assume were like checking it out for like ghosts and stuff. Then all that stopped and I was in bed with my friends boyfriend. I had my back to him and I was lying on my side and he was teaching me algebra (yes as in math) anyway, I was feeling scared and he started stroking my hair, and telling me it was all okay. I was getting more and more scared (of him as the situation was awkward) and I was just trying to finish the math work so he would stop and then next thing I knew (I know this sounds very gross, believe me when I woke up I felt sick) he had put his dick in me. I was sort of whimpering and he just kept telling me to be quiet and everything would be okay. I was"Why are you doing this?"sort of thing, and he started making it out like it was my fault and it just freaked me out and he told me that if I told anyone he would kill me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thats when I woke up, feeling weird and scared and upset. I caught up with the girlfriend of this guy who raped me in my dream and she was like 'I had the weirdest dream about you, you and my boyfriend were having sex in his car and he was teaching you guitar' and I was for some reason too scared to tell her the whole truth about my dream so I was like 'Funny that, I dreamed he taught me algebra' and left it at that. It still scared the crap out of me. Was just weird and it felt really lucid like, I remember all my thoughts and stuff and it just creeped me out.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-8448818377700197279?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8448818377700197279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/dreams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8448818377700197279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8448818377700197279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/04/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-9193339634097865174</id><published>2011-03-28T23:45:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T23:45:10.645+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Cruelty</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Continuing a&amp;nbsp;conversation&amp;nbsp;with the guy I work with and like I'm talking about Rueben, I haven't told him about anything to do with my family, but I'm asking him questions about stuff that I felt when Rueben died, like I honestly felt like the world was out to get my family and me, and I'm asking him if hes ever felt like that and its all just very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reality I am someone who has let one moment in her life define who she has become&amp;nbsp;completely. If it weren't for those things I wouldn't be dating Jay, and in a lot of ways I think he is probably the reason I still have my sanity. Which will sound hilarious because he drives me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a D&amp;amp;M with people from work is awkward because you have to go to work tomorrow and work with them and you know things about them now. I still think the world, or the universe or the higher power in life can be cruel sometimes. Whether shit just happens because it happens or whatever it is that makes shit happen, we can call it divine intervention, its a fucking bitch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-9193339634097865174?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/9193339634097865174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/cruelty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/9193339634097865174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/9193339634097865174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/cruelty.html' title='Cruelty'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3228050172357897930</id><published>2011-03-28T22:28:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T22:28:41.216+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Started as a joke with a guy at work, and then we started talking and just yeah my stance was that I have faith and that he doesn't. Obviously at the conclusion of said joke he does have faith and I obviously do not. &amp;nbsp;Like I do, but I have no reason to really. Its blind faith. We were talking about life and death today and like he was so cavalier about it, like it really meant in some ways nothing to him, and I was like hooning like a dick will get you wrapped around a pole and he was just so like, insincere about it. If that makes any sense at all. He just like didn't care. His attitude towards people being stupid on the road was just 'Well I know what I'm doing so therefore I won't die' and I was just thinking experienced drivers get in crashes all the time and die and they're not being stupid you know. He just didn't care and I was just like uh wait till people you love die dude. I didn't say that though because I'm not all super depressing you know at work because its work and no one knows me at work but yeah. Made me feel shit I guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3228050172357897930?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3228050172357897930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/faith.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3228050172357897930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3228050172357897930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/faith.html' title='Faith'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1824434738410322471</id><published>2011-03-27T23:43:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T23:43:58.512+11:00</updated><title type='text'>London</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;So for the past week or so I've been honestly thinking about going over there for roughly four months just to live and work and relax I guess. The more I think about it the more antsy I get to and the more sad I feel about not being able to see Jay for possibly four months. I don't know how we would go because of the distance and time difference but its I have nothing here and this weird feeling has to go because I'm sick of it. I just want to try living somewhere else by myself sort or thing to see how it goes, and how I cope. At the same time I don't want to loose Jay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1824434738410322471?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1824434738410322471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/london.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1824434738410322471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1824434738410322471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/london.html' title='London'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2415670847944663046</id><published>2011-03-24T23:32:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T23:32:51.788+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Normal time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Can't I just have that with Jay. Just normal alone time. Where theres no shit where he has to go because of this, and I want him to go because I have to get ready for this and then do this. I just want time to chill out and relax&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2415670847944663046?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2415670847944663046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/normal-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2415670847944663046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2415670847944663046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/normal-time.html' title='Normal time'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-656075716765068403</id><published>2011-03-24T22:01:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T22:01:12.532+11:00</updated><title type='text'>My POV</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Why is it so stupidly hard for everyone I know to see something from my point of view. I mean seriously. Whatever. Sorry that my opinion is invalid all the fucking time but thats cool. Maybe if you could just try see it from my point of view everything would be a little bit easier.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-656075716765068403?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/656075716765068403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-pov.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/656075716765068403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/656075716765068403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-pov.html' title='My POV'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5110836793668367887</id><published>2011-03-20T12:52:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T12:52:30.270+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything is fine</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Me and Jay are fine now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-5110836793668367887?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5110836793668367887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/everything-is-fine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5110836793668367887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5110836793668367887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/everything-is-fine.html' title='Everything is fine'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8957924095559261408</id><published>2011-03-19T13:24:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T13:24:55.889+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Also</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;to top off my amazingly shitty day yesterday, I lost my keycard.&lt;br /&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/8614219671085610267-8957924095559261408?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8957924095559261408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/also.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8957924095559261408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8957924095559261408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/also.html' title='Also'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6730648915556843813</id><published>2011-03-19T13:01:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T13:01:07.532+11:00</updated><title type='text'>But now I'm gonna leave you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Eloise, Eloise, you never meant that much to me. Baby please let go my Eloise, let it bleed, let it freeze and fall apart in front of me my&amp;nbsp;Eloise. You took the world from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So beautiful the ugliness within you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6730648915556843813?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6730648915556843813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/but-now-im-gonna-leave-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6730648915556843813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6730648915556843813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/but-now-im-gonna-leave-you.html' title='But now I&apos;m gonna leave you'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-9187919978350001218</id><published>2011-03-19T12:51:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T12:51:27.446+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Penalty box</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;So I went downstairs to show him this good youtube video, and instead of even bothering to try watch it he goes 'What you said to your mother was really bad' and I was like ffs stupid fucking family. Thats right, Levi can steal your money, smoke your weed, drink your alcohol, have house parties, smash walls down AND tell you to fuck off and he doesn't cop this shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She invaded my privacy because she is a gossip and she likes telling everyone everything. Hence why I tell her nothing at all. Nothing. Doesn't she get it. Why should I say sorry first, she started this whole conversation about 'Saying sorry means your the bigger person Dakota' well then, why the fuck didn't you say it huh? Your so selfish and stupid and everything is always about you. All the fucking time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm crying my eyes out in my room and you barge on in acting like some dumb&amp;nbsp;high-school&amp;nbsp;bitch demanding to know whats going on, and I'm meant to say sorry to you? Fuck off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-9187919978350001218?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/9187919978350001218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/penalty-box.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/9187919978350001218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/9187919978350001218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/penalty-box.html' title='Penalty box'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7480735483688825448</id><published>2011-03-19T12:33:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T12:33:35.026+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Fight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;So yesterday right in the middle of my fight with Jay on le telephone, my mum decided to walk in y room and be a nosy bitch. She walked in and was like 'whats happing' and I was like 'nothing go away' and then she was like 'No, I'm not leaving till you tell me whats wrong' so not only had I already found it rude enough that she had walked in my room to be a gossip bitch and just find out the dirt, now she was refusing to leave like a bitch. Anyone who knows me well enough knows I am a fairy personal person (I know its stupid that I say that whilst posting on the internet) and she had crossed the line with my personal space (I tell my mum nothing) and so I told her to just fuck off. Something Levi does all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum comes in my room this morning yelling at me about how I told her to fuck off and shit and she just turned the whole thing around to be about her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7480735483688825448?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7480735483688825448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/fight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7480735483688825448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7480735483688825448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/fight.html' title='Fight'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4502090615004767721</id><published>2011-03-19T01:36:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T01:36:40.773+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Whore</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I laughed at you today, and so did Jake. Thanks for stopping to say Hi, I really appreciated it. I know your still to cool for me, even though high school is over, and that pecking order has gone to shit. I know my place in society. For the record, strutting your stuff through Watergardens does not mean you own this shit, like you thought you owned the entire school. You so gay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4502090615004767721?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4502090615004767721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/whore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4502090615004767721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4502090615004767721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/whore.html' title='Whore'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2361741671915343704</id><published>2011-03-18T19:09:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T19:09:57.705+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck that</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm going to hopefully go out and celebrate that I'm employee of the month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2361741671915343704?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2361741671915343704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/fuck-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2361741671915343704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2361741671915343704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/fuck-that.html' title='Fuck that'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6448243805502844936</id><published>2011-03-18T18:43:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T18:43:15.758+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the irony</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Remember how I was all 'I love Jay were going out for dinner' well yeah. surprise surprise. Were not anymore. He wants to see his friends, so the plans he made were cancelled so he can go and see his friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Were going to break up soon. I just can't do all the crap anymore. The good doesn't outweigh the bad anymore. I can't feel shit all the time, as much as I love him, its just not enough anymore. I can't. I feel like I've been waiting for things to just get better for ages. Not just in relation to Jay, but in relation to my whole life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every-time&amp;nbsp;things get better something happens and they get significantly worse. I know I sound like some stupid ass whiny bitch compared to everything else going on in the world but just my life as I know it has been&amp;nbsp;completely fucked since Karen, John and Rueben died. Jay masked that for a while, and now hes just adding to the pain and confusion and I can't anymore. I love him so much which is why its hurting and I know its all for a good reason but I just can't put up with being last anymore.I got employee of the month today(which is a really big deal to me because its recognition that I've worked hard and I deserve something), and all I wanted was to hang out with Jay and celebrate to come home and have a nice intimate night alone. But his friends mean more to him than I do and you know that would be fine if this didn't happen all the time. He forgets I even exist and I don't think that highly of myself everyone I know knows that, but I know I deserve better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So me and him are coming to an end and as much as being without him scares the shit out of me I have to do it. &amp;nbsp;I love him so much and this is just why this hurts. I'll still love him though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6448243805502844936?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6448243805502844936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/oh-irony.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6448243805502844936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6448243805502844936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/oh-irony.html' title='Oh the irony'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-228072876551422440</id><published>2011-03-18T01:25:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T01:25:15.704+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi there</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm so bored of feeling silly all the time, I just want to feel certain about something. I feel that if I try to live my dreams and learn that I'll have to sacrifice Jay because our relationship would get in the way of things. I want to live in like New Orleans for a few months and write a book. Would Jay come with me or would he stay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to do so many things, and I feel like times running out. Were almost a quarter into the year and I'm still at KFC and Matt keeps on saying 'Dakota, you know you're stuck here for good. One of us. One of us' and he says it in this metallic drone and I just feel like crying because I can't stay there. I just can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Jay though, he keeps visiting me at work, and were going out for dinner I think tomorrow night. Dinner and a movie. Aw shit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-228072876551422440?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/228072876551422440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/hi-there_18.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/228072876551422440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/228072876551422440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/hi-there_18.html' title='Hi there'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4314943097482460952</id><published>2011-03-12T12:43:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T12:43:33.551+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Lies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I told a lie last night, well maybe two. Both were&amp;nbsp;very&amp;nbsp;very small. I realised that the person I told had absolutely no part in me still being around to bitch and moan, its Say Anything, and I do absolutely love Max Bemis. Things will get better because they always do. Susans breast is coming off soon, and from then on me and my family are on the straight run to be successful and happy people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm guess that karmas just getting most of the bad things in my life out of the way so that when I'm older I can have lots of luck and success. Cause lets face it, if I'm going to get nominated for an academy award, I'll have to be lucky as balls and a total badass. So my real test is to just keep myself alive and not thinking stupid thoughts about stupid things. I will keep the bad thoughts to myself so no one else has to hear them and I will be fine because I can start doing what I want to when I know what I want to do. Until then, I have Say Anything and Jamie to keep me sane. I just have to grow up and relax and let my hair out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Jay wants to smoke even though he knows its hurting me, thats his doing. If he wants to lie about it, that is also his doing. I just can't be bothered caring anymore. Its not worth it. I'm not telling anyone anything anymore. Its just secret time for me. I can do better than all this emotional crap that I put myself through. I can do better. I don't need anyone but me, and I think I realise that now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I help people when they feel shit, and I've always been that person. I guess theres just no one to help you when your that person.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4314943097482460952?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4314943097482460952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/lies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4314943097482460952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4314943097482460952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/lies.html' title='Lies'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1572755062510824056</id><published>2011-03-12T12:33:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T12:33:57.205+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Woe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm still the optimist though it is hard when all you want to be is in a dream. A dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1572755062510824056?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1572755062510824056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/woe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1572755062510824056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1572755062510824056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/woe.html' title='Woe'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7992315928704631743</id><published>2011-03-12T12:13:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T12:13:40.871+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I just can't handle it anymore</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;and its really just as simple as that. I can't be bothered fighting for things. I can't be bothered feeling so overwhelmed because of things I just can't anymore and its really starting to get on my nerves because I never used to be a weak person, I used to have so much fight and just strive to be something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I just take shit and cry and feel shitty about everything. I hate this person. I really fucking hate this person. Everyone around me is just so blind to whats happening.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7992315928704631743?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7992315928704631743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-just-cant-handle-it-anymore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7992315928704631743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7992315928704631743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-just-cant-handle-it-anymore.html' title='I just can&apos;t handle it anymore'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6762217945689620886</id><published>2011-03-12T12:10:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T12:10:10.316+11:00</updated><title type='text'>General</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Whats the general amount of time someone can continue putting up with shit from everyone before they kill themselves. I'm really keen on finding that one out because well, I'm at my wits end here.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6762217945689620886?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6762217945689620886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/general.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6762217945689620886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6762217945689620886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/general.html' title='General'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5406334340729445662</id><published>2011-03-10T23:50:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T23:50:51.668+11:00</updated><title type='text'>My lord, I love this man.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/oRoSc8P3kPg/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oRoSc8P3kPg&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oRoSc8P3kPg&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&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/8614219671085610267-5406334340729445662?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5406334340729445662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-lord-i-love-this-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5406334340729445662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5406334340729445662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-lord-i-love-this-man.html' title='My lord, I love this man.'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1327839754419729726</id><published>2011-03-10T23:27:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T23:27:31.771+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi there</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;For those who read this, I am very morbid and sad on here. If you would like to see where all my happiness goes, its on here, www.dakotahull.tumbr.com.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1327839754419729726?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1327839754419729726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/hi-there.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1327839754419729726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1327839754419729726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/hi-there.html' title='Hi there'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7167485629379538576</id><published>2011-03-09T01:43:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T01:43:50.071+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Amazing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;No really, how much people just don't change. Yes, for once I am not talking about Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still a piece of shit that knows exactly how to fuck me right off. Can't handle people like him, such fucking twat cunt assholes. So sexist. As someone who intentionally went against me to hang shit on me to bands and shit when I was just a kid with a dream, I will naturally always hate you, but the fact that you still go on about how 'wow mummy and daddy brought you an slr and now your a photographer' just fucking no okay. Shut the fuck up. No one cares what your saying because your a piece of shit. Life if bigger than you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Milner was right when he told me that just because you owned Melbourne doesn't mean you get the bigger picture. In all honesty, people like you are why people like me exist. I only want to succeed to prove to you that I was worth something, not some stupid girl that you treated like shit because she didn't think you were hot shit. I can't handle you. I don't even see you or talk to you, but knowing your out there making people feel like shit pisses me the fuck off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so angry. I read the shit he writes and I feel like its all directed at me because I fucking take photos. I just don't care, but I hate that he puts people off following their dreams and making them feel shit. Whatever. Its just fucking annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So guys, while I'm listening to Say Anything and feeling proud yet infuriated, heres some of my pictures not in a mum and dad brought me an SLR and I'm a photographer way, in the I got a shitty job at KFC working 5 shifts a week saving all my money for 6 months to buy a basic SLR so I could get these photos that I love kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4WkAlHH8K1s/TXY_iFeG0hI/AAAAAAAACCE/5Meghydn0iQ/s1600/IMG_2292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="425" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4WkAlHH8K1s/TXY_iFeG0hI/AAAAAAAACCE/5Meghydn0iQ/s640/IMG_2292.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-JW9JeRgvjR0/TXY_eMYio-I/AAAAAAAACCA/L4XYbGldIGw/s1600/_MG_2683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-JW9JeRgvjR0/TXY_eMYio-I/AAAAAAAACCA/L4XYbGldIGw/s640/_MG_2683.jpg" width="425" /&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;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DISbs8PanfU/TXY_W_0xtcI/AAAAAAAACB8/qwHp0MuQVlI/s1600/_MG_2673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="425" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DISbs8PanfU/TXY_W_0xtcI/AAAAAAAACB8/qwHp0MuQVlI/s640/_MG_2673.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and you know, I don't even care if my photography ever gets anywhere because I took these photos. I took this photo of Max Bemis and I don't fucking care what anyone says because I took this. Its mine, and I'm proud of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7167485629379538576?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7167485629379538576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/amazing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7167485629379538576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7167485629379538576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/amazing.html' title='Amazing'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4WkAlHH8K1s/TXY_iFeG0hI/AAAAAAAACCE/5Meghydn0iQ/s72-c/IMG_2292.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5346571024503089364</id><published>2011-03-09T00:01:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T00:01:09.889+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Double standards</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm going to make this short and sweet. I was talking to Jake about porn and he started sending me this like weird funny porn, and&amp;nbsp;apparently&amp;nbsp;I'm 'weird' because I find this sort of stuff interesting. Jake didn't say it obviously, but a guy did and I think its pathetic that he can watch porn, get horny and jack off to this shit, when I can't simply watch it because of curiosity and that makes me the weird, gross, feral person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shove your double standards up your ass.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-5346571024503089364?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5346571024503089364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/double-standards.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5346571024503089364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5346571024503089364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/double-standards.html' title='Double standards'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3840260149121351366</id><published>2011-03-08T22:53:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T22:53:12.702+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Tattoos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I've always wanted one but I know I'll never get one. I'm too scared of regretting it because thats right. Dakota doesn't live people. EVEN THE NEWSPAPER TOLD ME I WAS CARRYING TOO MUCH EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My lord. THE NEWSPAPER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just feel like screaming fuck the police like they do in that movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3840260149121351366?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3840260149121351366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/tattoos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3840260149121351366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3840260149121351366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/tattoos.html' title='Tattoos'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6375633513797016550</id><published>2011-03-07T23:43:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T23:43:28.370+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Cunts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Am I the only person who got accepted into uni but didn't go? Thats the way it feels. Feeling so useless right about now. Everyones all 'hey I'm doing uni and I love it' and I'm all like 'hey guys, working everyday is cool too right?' Right?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my names Dakota, and instead of getting a future, I'm getting money. That is only temporary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6375633513797016550?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6375633513797016550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/cunts.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6375633513797016550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6375633513797016550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/cunts.html' title='Cunts'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2579694377563304935</id><published>2011-03-07T23:11:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T23:11:11.696+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Porn</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Watched it for the first time tonight, and it was hilarious. Like it really was so interesting to watch. I didn't find it arousing or whatever word you would use for it, but yeah, was weird and funny and so stupid. This one I watched this girl had this like mouthguard thing on that made her look like hannibal lector and she was licking the camera mans ass and sucking his balls and I was all lolwut? this is supposed to be hot?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2579694377563304935?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2579694377563304935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/porn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2579694377563304935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2579694377563304935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/porn.html' title='Porn'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3872371175129322968</id><published>2011-03-07T20:50:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T20:50:48.601+11:00</updated><title type='text'>New Dakota</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Is positive and forgiving because she loves someone. She will get used to being second to family, friends, homework, school and smoking because I was first for a long time and, being second isn't that bad after all. You gotta know when to stand down and just roll with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, 2 is my lucky number, so, I'm fine with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-3872371175129322968?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3872371175129322968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-dakota.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3872371175129322968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3872371175129322968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-dakota.html' title='New Dakota'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7614017044719927521</id><published>2011-03-07T20:48:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T20:48:10.717+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a nice little slice of info</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I had a dream Patrick Dempsy had to perform emergency surgery on me, that was such an emergency that he showed up at my house and I was on the top of a mountain getting emergency surgery from Patrick Dempsy. A little info on the surgery, my&amp;nbsp;ovary&amp;nbsp;was exploding and he was going to cut into my vagina with a knife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably dreamt it was him because hes McDreamy right mass lols&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-7614017044719927521?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7614017044719927521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/just-nice-little-slice-of-info.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7614017044719927521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7614017044719927521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/just-nice-little-slice-of-info.html' title='Just a nice little slice of info'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-2925711471553342239</id><published>2011-03-07T18:12:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T18:12:33.016+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear chicken lord</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;At work today, we had two members of our franchise that are very high up come into work to visit. By visit I mean yell at my manager, and pretty much pick apart every single little teeny tiny thing that was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was already upset because I was placed in an undesirable position to work in the store, but I wrote out a work plan and tried to make the best of a bad situation. I even made lunch to take into work because I was like, excited you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, spend whole day dreading these people coming in and then they came into work and just made me want to rage. I pretty much wasn't doing my job right, and they were just walking around all cocky like they owned the place (fair enough, they do own the place) but its been that long since they have worked in a restaurant that I can't even imagine that they would know what its like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Detail cleaning while your on window making stock and making bulk is a very stupid requirement, when your expected to make bulk 3 times a day. Its not necessary. Its so stupid and I didn't have MY name badge on, and even though they were joking around it still all just pissed me off and I was getting so angry, and so far behind my work that I wanted to chop someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So naturally I had to stay back for a little bit, thanks to someone I work with everything turned out fine, but then my dad didn't answer his phone and long story short, I am only home now at 6pm. Lyf sux.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PIyPq3AT4X0/TXSFKyY2DhI/AAAAAAAACB4/Bph9Pn1sHNU/s1600/Photo+on+2011-03-07+at+18.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PIyPq3AT4X0/TXSFKyY2DhI/AAAAAAAACB4/Bph9Pn1sHNU/s320/Photo+on+2011-03-07+at+18.09.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Oh, and this is what I walked in my room to find. Its nice to know that even Jamie had a hard day being painted as a french girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-2925711471553342239?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/2925711471553342239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/dear-chicken-lord.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2925711471553342239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/2925711471553342239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/dear-chicken-lord.html' title='Dear chicken lord'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PIyPq3AT4X0/TXSFKyY2DhI/AAAAAAAACB4/Bph9Pn1sHNU/s72-c/Photo+on+2011-03-07+at+18.09.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6564717383171920676</id><published>2011-03-06T23:39:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T23:39:52.551+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I know all I write about is Jay</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;But he just makes me think. He doesn't hesitate to let people know how much he loves me once hes had a few drinks, and everyone that we have ever hung around in school knew the way he felt about me, but now I've gone all crazy because we have been together for a year, and we have both changed so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like going back to when we first started dating, and asking him what it was like, if he felt like he had accomplished something because the person he was chasing finally stopped running away. I don't know what its like to chase someone, I don't know what its like to meet someone and pretty much fall in love with them. I don't know how he put any faith in me at the start. As soon as we would ever get flirty, things would get scary and I would have to try make things stop and they just wouldn't stop. Things never stopped. He always felt the same, after everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that at the start he didn't get his hopes up that I would stay, but after we slept together for the first time, he wasn't scared I would run away anymore because he knew he had got me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find that hard to wrap my head around. I find everything about us hard to understand. Its just all crazy scary. I don't want to be with anyone else. I know that much and things do work for the most part, every relationship has its little problems, but we love each other, and love will always be enough for us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6564717383171920676?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6564717383171920676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-know-all-i-write-about-is-jay.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6564717383171920676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6564717383171920676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-know-all-i-write-about-is-jay.html' title='I know all I write about is Jay'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4049356135481226214</id><published>2011-03-06T22:52:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T22:52:18.734+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Sam Malone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Whenever I feel the past creep up on me, I think of that song. I want to have a place I can escape to where no one knows my name and I don't have a past that everyone else can remember. Its just annoying to feel defined by all the crap you don't like. In one way I feel that I am defined by mine and Jays long history of crap that we had to go through to actually get together. That shits me because theres so much bad. Theres so much that I would just rather not know. I find it annoying that most of it still hurts. I hate how insecure and scared I am but thats just who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel too grown up. I feel like I did something wrong while I was growing up. I never screwed around with guys, I would find the one guy that liked me and we would hang out, and I wouldn't put out so they'd leave. I was just scared. Guys don't like scared. They like confident, sexy, skinny hot girls who know what they want and how to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me on the other hand, I'm none of those things. Too scared to do anything. Too sensible to live it feels like. &amp;nbsp;Everyone goes out and gets stupid and does things they regret and they get over it and just move on. I just can't. I sit there and go, hey, I fucked up hard. I've barely fucked up in my life, barely. Haven't lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a boyfriend who is younger than me, yet he has lived plenty. Hes played the field, he knew what he wanted and he knows what he wants in life. He wants to live, and he wants to have fun, and try new things and in some ways were so different. Sometimes it feels like the only things we have in common is our love for each other. I hate asking myself if thats enough, because I want it to be so bad, but my parents love each other and it doesn't seem to be enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think my parents should of had kids in some ways. They are good parents, don't get me wrong, but they are just very selfish. If I'm selfish its because of them. I only get me time when I'm with Jay, hes the only one that gives me the time to care about me. I think I cry so much around him because I just feel so exhausted and smothered all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that I have another dream. I want to get nominated for an academy award. I'm not telling anyone though because the people I have told have laughed at me, because I don't have enough talent. But, I just want some recognition that I did good. That I did something that was amazing, that someone sat down and went wow, this bitch has got it. Thats all I would really like from life. To have it mean something more than Dakota, the chubby girl who didn't live because she was too scared too.&lt;br /&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/8614219671085610267-4049356135481226214?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4049356135481226214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/sam-malone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4049356135481226214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4049356135481226214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/sam-malone.html' title='Sam Malone'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7978263126906124134</id><published>2011-03-06T22:13:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T22:13:49.610+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I just found this on tumblr</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;and I thought it was super cool so I thought I would chuck it here so I'll always know where to find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;"I’ve noticed that several of my followers are Miyazaki fans, so I thought I share this little tidbit of information with you about Spirited Away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;I always wondered why the symbol “ゆ” (said “yu”) was on the door to the bath house. I asked my Japanese teacher, and he wasn’t too sure so I did a little research.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;The symbol is used on the entrance to 温泉 (onsen) and&amp;nbsp;銭湯 (sento), or Japanese bath houses. The word “yu” is translated to “hot water”. So, makes sense to be on a bath house, yes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;Then I did more reading. During the Edo period, these public baths became popular for men because of women who started working at these communal baths, washing men and selling sex. These bath houses were called “yuna baro”. The woman were known as&amp;nbsp;湯女, or “yuna”. This directly translates to “hot water woman”. So basically, they were brothels. Guess what the woman who ran this bath house would be called?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;ゆばば。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;Yubaba.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;(translates directly to “hot water old woman”)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;Yubaba is the name of the woman who runs the bath house in Spirited Away. If you watch Spirited Away in Japanese, the female workers are referred to as yuna.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;Chihiro was forced to change her name to Sen. Kinda like how strippers get names like “Candy”.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;カオナシ/No-Face keeps offering Chihiro money. He “wants her”.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;THEN I read interviews with Miyazaki. This was all put in intentionally. As we all know. Miyazaki’s stories are weaved with different themes and metaphors. He said he was tackling the issue of the sex industry rapidly growing in Japan, and that children being exposed to it at such early ages is a problem.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;To me, this makes me respect Miyazaki even more as a film maker.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;And also, frustrates me because so much gets lost in translation, and people see it as this cute childrens movie and this “master piece of animation” (which it definately is) instead of the real statement that it is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;Thought I’d share :).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;I told this to my Japanese teacher today. He was speechless for a bit and then said “I NEED TO WATCH THAT MOVIE AGAIN OBVIOUSLY.” Haha"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I didn't write this, just reblogging it on here because I thought it was super cool :)&lt;/span&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/8614219671085610267-7978263126906124134?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7978263126906124134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-just-found-this-on-tumblr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7978263126906124134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7978263126906124134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-just-found-this-on-tumblr.html' title='I just found this on tumblr'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1024751753996247423</id><published>2011-02-28T23:58:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T23:58:30.141+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakthrough</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I turned off my laptop then felt really sad and was like I have to write this down but have now lost the urge t write anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was just upset I guess, me and Jake realised that life is meaningless if you have no one to share it with. I mean, even single parents have that shit covered. They got a kid, which is like unlimited access to single dads you know so yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just stuck with the stabby feeling in my throat and I just feel like I am someone who other people are incapable of loving or finding&amp;nbsp;physically&amp;nbsp;attractive in any way possible. So do I just let myself suffer from Disney Princess syndrome where I ruin a perfectly fine relationship because I'm feeling insecure and stupid or should I just shut up and take this shit like a man, because I'm just so over feeling shitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I realised how good my life was until I had the conversation with Jake today. I went to gigs every weekend, had all these stories that involve me being stupidly happy and excited about everything and now I have none of that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1024751753996247423?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1024751753996247423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/breakthrough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1024751753996247423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1024751753996247423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/breakthrough.html' title='Breakthrough'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8571454129751267439</id><published>2011-02-25T21:00:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T21:00:12.291+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I just want a happy ending'/><title type='text'>That punched in the stomach feeling</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Jakes going to uni right, and I am so proud of him because he is smart and thats where he needs to be, he needs this you know, its good for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to sound like a bad friend but a part of me is feeling so amazingly shit that I am like the only person that I know thats not going to uni. I'm working at KFC. I am working my ass off at KFC. &amp;nbsp;Working my ass off. I work so fucking hard right, I worked so hard last year, I really did and it got me nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not in uni because I can't afford it and because my parents wouldn't help me. My mum keeps asking me why I'm so angry and its annoying because she is one of the reasons why I'm so angry. I work and I work and I work and I work and I work. Thats it. I know, big sad story for Dakota, she works, boo hoo. I'm just so hard of trying so hard, and working that I'm over it. I'm getting really aggressive and frustrated and fucked off at everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want things to go my way for once. I want something to happen thats good. I don't want anymore cancer, or morbid shit in my life. I feel like I'm bringing myself down. I'm stupid. I'm not going to uni, which makes me stupid because I'm the only person I know thats not going to uni. I feel so worthless and stupid and pathetic and just pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I have ever been good at is not ever going to be a career for me, and I have to find something new to do now. I have to work, and be poor and be sad. I have to juggle and I don't know how. I can't choose anything. I can't wait around for things to get better. I can't juggle and I can't feel crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum is just so blind to like everything and she is so selfish. I'm just drowning really.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-8571454129751267439?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8571454129751267439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/that-punched-in-stomach-feeling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8571454129751267439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8571454129751267439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/that-punched-in-stomach-feeling.html' title='That punched in the stomach feeling'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4663069050018151594</id><published>2011-02-23T20:56:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T20:56:39.977+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuck</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I have this thing right. When someone dies, I feel that they are stuck in whatever they were doing, like they're permanently stuck in that moment. To me it feels like if someone is working at KFC in the middle of town hating their job and just wanting to see their boyfriend and then an earthquake hits suddenly and their crushed by chicken warmer, their soul is permanently stuck in that moment of hating their job and wanting to go see their boyfriend. They can't get out of it because they died&amp;nbsp;unexpectedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone goes into surgery that should be simple and okay, and then there are&amp;nbsp;unforeseen&amp;nbsp;circumstances and they die, to me they will always be waiting to wake up to see their family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some&amp;nbsp;ridiculously&amp;nbsp;stupid reason I feel that Rueben is always stuck right in the moment at work, when he gets into that roof and gets electrocuted. I still feel that he is alive though. Thats what upsets me the most I think. Being stuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having not said things you want to say, and having not felt things that you want to feel. Its a stupid way to look at it, but thats just the way I've always seen it. If you die, and your not ready for it, you get stuck and you don't even know that your stuck. Thats what scares me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4663069050018151594?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4663069050018151594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/stuck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4663069050018151594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4663069050018151594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/stuck.html' title='Stuck'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1341202515880089002</id><published>2011-02-23T20:51:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T20:51:02.448+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Death (this is a little all over the place)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I'm one of those girls that watches Greys Anatomy. I'm a girl that watches Greys Anatomy and cries even when she knows whats going to happen to all the characters. I watch it and I cry and I feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me think, and it takes all the crappy parts out of my day. I get to watch other peoples lives get lived out, and I get to feel like I'm a part of that. In my mind, Meredith is a resident at Seattle Grace hospital. They're not characters to me, they're people. They're living people, Izzy Stevens is a real person, she is not Katherine Heigl. Its hard to explain, but you must get the drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I see, Julia Gillard on TV expressing her sympathy to the Australian that died in the earthquake in Christchurch, I see a real live person talking about a fake person. The 'Unnamed' Australian that died, that she pays condolences to. Its almost like she does it to come across as a good person, I'm not saying that she is a bad person I'm just saying that to me, it seems more fake than Greys Anatomy. A woman on channel 7 interviewed a man, who was trying to say how he saved a mans life, when all he could say was how his brothers wife was missing and they couldn't contact her, and he kept crying and crying, they eventually cu the interview with him, and went back to the&amp;nbsp;news-reporter&amp;nbsp;who was like 'Our&amp;nbsp;condolences&amp;nbsp;and prayers go out to that man' and in the shit storm that is the media, this mans misfortune is numbers. Its numbers of viewers. Its not actual care or prayers. Its 'yo thanks for crying on camera, you totally just upped our ratings' it just comes across so cold and impersonal which I suppose is what I'm getting at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its cold. People die, and everyone acts coldly about, except for those who have lost the person. The news-readers care about their ratings, the&amp;nbsp;politicians&amp;nbsp;care about their asses and no one cares about the man who is crying because his brothers wife is probably dead somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think thats why I like greys Anatomy. Its how people should react to these things, with love and compassion. Every patient that dies isn't just someone who died, its a failure. Its someone that was lost. I just wish life was like that sometimes. Where people cared more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-1341202515880089002?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1341202515880089002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/death-this-is-little-all-over-place.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1341202515880089002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1341202515880089002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/death-this-is-little-all-over-place.html' title='Death (this is a little all over the place)'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6979527409792955104</id><published>2011-02-16T23:12:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T23:12:23.212+11:00</updated><title type='text'>So stupid</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Its so stupid. My feelings just really piss me off. I have had a bad run with people in the past. Which leaves me sort of unable to trust anyone. My experience with people shows that if they want it they take it&amp;nbsp;regardless&amp;nbsp;of whats in the way. Which scares me. I'm someone who keeps most of their thoughts private, and I don't act out what I'm thinking. I'm not someone who would cheat or flirt. I'm just incapable of making myself appealing to dudes. If I manage to pull off looking nice for one evening, I'm so obnoxious that most guys are probably like 'one of the boys' but like, Jay hes all sweet talk when hes drunk. Hes all nice, and attractive and sweet talking with anyone who will listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It like simultaneously scares me and makes me feel bad. I'm torn between being scared that he will hook up with someone else, and feeling bad for even thinking that. At my birthday when he was drunk he ran around telling everyone how much he loved me and how if I cheated on him he would die but I still get scared out of my mind. I'm just tired of being scared of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spend half the time being scared were over, and I know it pushes him away cause I'm going crazy yet I still keep doing it because I need reassurance. I just want to skip into my future so that everything is a little more stable and all the hard things now are no longer hard and they're just easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Jay work so fucking well when were right next to&amp;nbsp;each other. We really do. Its stupid how we just bounce off one another. When I'm with Jay its like, holy mother of god, match made in heaven. But I'm just so scared of loosing my best friend that I freak out. I'm barely ever all needy and stupid on him when hes right there because hes there. Hes not, not there. We work so well when its just me and him. Hes all that I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my problem is that I was always like, dude so not getting into relationships because when they leave it hurts too much. Then I get into this relationship and before I know it we've been together for a year and the dynamics have changed because hes not just my boyfriend anymore, hes my best friend. Hes my world. I feel like everything I do during the week is for him. So we can hang out, and have a good time, and I can look nice and be happy because my weeks been that shit hes my silver lining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My biggest problem is me and will always be me. I just need to get mentally healthy and everything will be okay. I'm not like mentally insane I just need to learn how to turn off the crazy and get rid of the sick feeling in my stomach and just relax. I need to relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if everyone feels like this? Is everything meant to be this hard? Are human relationships meant to hurt this much for no&amp;nbsp;apparent&amp;nbsp;reason?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6979527409792955104?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6979527409792955104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-stupid.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6979527409792955104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6979527409792955104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-stupid.html' title='So stupid'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-4477267052247145717</id><published>2011-02-16T22:25:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T22:25:47.036+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Being a whiney teenager is so fucking hard</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I seriously think that my fucking emotions were just&amp;nbsp;switched&amp;nbsp;off for the past 18 years of my life. I have to be getting my period because everything is fine and I'm fucking crying and my stomachs somersaulting. Can you love someone too much? It honestly feels like that right now. When I'm alone, I'm a bad person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-4477267052247145717?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/4477267052247145717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/being-whiney-teenager-is-so-fucking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4477267052247145717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/4477267052247145717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/being-whiney-teenager-is-so-fucking.html' title='Being a whiney teenager is so fucking hard'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-8765758540167072137</id><published>2011-02-16T21:55:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T21:55:02.281+11:00</updated><title type='text'>better</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Even though&amp;nbsp;everything is&amp;nbsp;like all better now I still have knots in my stomach, and I'm still constantly scared and in one way I'd just like to grow up so I can skip all this and just not have to worry about this&amp;nbsp;gnawing&amp;nbsp;feeling inside my guts about anything. I just wish I could turn it off. People never tell you loving someone hurts this much,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-8765758540167072137?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/8765758540167072137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8765758540167072137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/8765758540167072137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/better.html' title='better'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-1519993454892404036</id><published>2011-02-16T20:46:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T20:46:20.337+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I also just noticed that all the girls that have ever like significantly pissed me off have been really ugly fat ones. Like really ugly fat ones. Now I know I may be in no position to judge but seriously, I'm talking dog ugly. The reason why I hate all of them is because they're man stealing little pieces of shit. Which is why I hate them so suck, my dick.&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/8614219671085610267-1519993454892404036?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/1519993454892404036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/girls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1519993454892404036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/1519993454892404036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/girls.html' title='Girls'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6161652493959073395</id><published>2011-02-16T20:46:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T20:46:00.090+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Douches</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Now, everyone seems to have a guy in their life that tried to get into their pants right. Well when I was 15 I had a guy who was good looking try to get with me (this is all sounding so fucking stupid as I write it, just hang on a sec) and even when I was 15 I was like you are a douche and your trying to have sex with a kid and its just like what the fuck, find someone your own age, you scary scary douchebag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well now, when I see them and they're all grown up now doing grown up stuff its just funny because its like, you haven't changed. Your still trying to impress and fit into the same scene. Its pretty much just like one great big I don't understand for me because well, I have no idea how people work. Or why they do stupid shit and still aim to be apart of something that is dead to them. Who are you trying to impress?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-6161652493959073395?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6161652493959073395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/douches.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6161652493959073395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6161652493959073395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/douches.html' title='Douches'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-5132301843736325697</id><published>2011-02-14T23:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T23:15:12.460+11:00</updated><title type='text'>long story short</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Me and Jay broke up tonight right, one week shy of our one year anniversary. I was upset he didn't come see me at work, and basically I was like 'This isn't working' (be aware this is a really condensed version) and then the shit hit the fan and he was like 'Okay, you will be better off without me I've done so much bad to you' and he continued with that, until he got really upset when I told him he had to break up with me because if I did it for him, I'd go back and insist that we get back together because I was being stupid and if I knew that he didn't love me anymore I'd be able to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he got really emotional and it was too hard but he did it you know, we broke up and we cried and we &amp;nbsp;talked about everything we would miss and about how much we loved each other and about how scared we were of being apart, and we just told each other you know that stuff you tell someone you love when you think its about to end, and then he went to leave and I had been trying to keep my cool I was waiting for him to leave for me to flip my shit because I didn't want him to see me, because it was hard enough for him to leave me without seeing how I really was feeling, and I pretty much stopped saying I love you and I started saying you have to do this for you, &amp;nbsp;and stuff so he wouldn't feel as bad and I kept asking him if this was what he wanted and he kept saying I don't know and he was crying and was getting so upset and he started saying stuff like your the best thing that ever happened to me and I can't let anyone else have you and then I was like why are you doing this and he was like because I love you and then everything was all tears and hugs and never again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a serious wake up call let me tell you. I've had three people that I love die, and I've had regrets about all of them and not telling them about how much I loved them. I thought Jay was going to be one of those regrets because I was letting him leave me and then everything changed and now hes not gone and hes still mine, and were still together and even though I'm still crying because it was so scary and I'm still really scared, everything is okay now, and I still have Jay and everything is the best it could be because were still together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8614219671085610267-5132301843736325697?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/5132301843736325697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/long-story-short.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5132301843736325697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/5132301843736325697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/long-story-short.html' title='long story short'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-7307752353155217210</id><published>2011-02-08T23:35:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T23:35:41.103+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Feelings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;You know when you get the feeling that something is well and truly over, and you don't know why. Even though you know you don't want it to be over it just feels like it is. Its scary, and its really sad and frustrating. I can't turn off the feelings no matter what Jay says and its just pissing me off.&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/8614219671085610267-7307752353155217210?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/7307752353155217210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/feelings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7307752353155217210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/7307752353155217210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/feelings.html' title='Feelings'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-3397362274941030642</id><published>2011-02-08T00:08:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T00:08:30.060+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Why did I do this to myself? I get into this relationship and I fall in love with a guy. But then I finish school and he &amp;nbsp;continues school and things get weird and I feel alone. Somethings wrong but you don't know what and you don't know what your meant to do other than just ask and ask and ask. What do I do? If we broke up I couldn't stay here. I'd have to leave. Everything would remind me of him and I'd cry too much and feel shit for so long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;I always said I would never let this happen to me. I'd never let myself get attached to anyone because when they leave it hurts and its too much for me to handle.&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/8614219671085610267-3397362274941030642?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/3397362274941030642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/pain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3397362274941030642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/3397362274941030642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/pain.html' title='Pain'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-913388692445857017</id><published>2011-02-04T22:48:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T22:48:05.501+11:00</updated><title type='text'>all</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;I put my all into so many people all the time and I fucking hate it when people can't do the same for me.&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/8614219671085610267-913388692445857017?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/913388692445857017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/913388692445857017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/913388692445857017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/all.html' title='all'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8614219671085610267.post-6226980601611670576</id><published>2011-02-04T22:25:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T22:25:31.738+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;I'm a really weak person. I'm a really really really weak person. I'm not strong or resilient. I'm just weak. I hate everything and I hate myself for being so weak. I don't even think its possible for someone to be so unhappy with themselves as I am with myself.&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/8614219671085610267-6226980601611670576?l=exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/feeds/6226980601611670576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6226980601611670576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8614219671085610267/posts/default/6226980601611670576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://exhaustyourtrust.blogspot.com/2011/02/me.html' title='Me'/><author><name>Wherever. Whatever. Have a nice day.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00256004427705990809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Vpg9gYhO79w/Sr8N7MDS2cI/AAAAAAAAAx0/rhw6uXaOVU4/S220/image+3548.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
