<?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-2117889799767848381</id><updated>2011-07-29T04:47:22.665+10:00</updated><title type='text'>My Ocean.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>80</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6347066503504165405</id><published>2010-04-10T13:16:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T13:18:11.948+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>sometimes it's hard to say even one thing true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6347066503504165405?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6347066503504165405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6347066503504165405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6347066503504165405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6347066503504165405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/04/sometimes-its-hard-to-say-even-one.html' title=''/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-540634811270476153</id><published>2010-02-26T18:31:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T18:32:11.786+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Cherry Lane.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;For all the hours here that move too slow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was in hospital. I can't handle this. What the hell have I ever done to have such a shit two months? What did I do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-540634811270476153?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/540634811270476153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=540634811270476153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/540634811270476153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/540634811270476153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/02/cherry-lane.html' title='Cherry Lane.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6488732856448234074</id><published>2010-02-20T19:35:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T19:38:32.593+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Storm.</title><content type='html'>My fault for thinking I could believe in you one more time. You haven't been strong the past fourteen months, so why would you now? &lt;br /&gt;I thought you could change. I thought maybe now, more than ever, you would surprise me. But you haven't. You've left me worse of then you found me. And I cannot understand you one single bit. You must love me a hell of a lot, because you've done absolutely nothing to make this right. And you're the one who was dishonest.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6488732856448234074?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6488732856448234074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6488732856448234074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6488732856448234074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6488732856448234074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/02/storm.html' title='Storm.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2043573629128659811</id><published>2010-02-05T13:49:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T13:50:11.512+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Crystal.</title><content type='html'>I've cried for you everyday since you went away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2043573629128659811?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2043573629128659811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2043573629128659811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2043573629128659811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2043573629128659811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/02/crystal.html' title='Crystal.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-4729257407264540353</id><published>2010-01-28T01:52:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T01:55:43.882+11:00</updated><title type='text'>-</title><content type='html'>Having trouble sleeping.. Who the hell wants to go to school tomorrow? Mum and Eric are in Perth.. Such a sucky week, having to say goodbye. Trying to be strong for Mum.. Yelled myself to sleep last night, and woke up repeatedly throughout the night. Doubt I'll be sleeping tonight. I miss you Crystal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-4729257407264540353?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4729257407264540353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=4729257407264540353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4729257407264540353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4729257407264540353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post_28.html' title='-'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1725057497804681594</id><published>2010-01-26T22:55:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T23:00:52.218+11:00</updated><title type='text'>-</title><content type='html'>I'm lying where you used to sleep. Everythings just so different now.. &lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;My next door neighbour came over today and when she got to my door she said that when she heard she started crying. Then I started crying some more, then we started crying and hugging eachother. She was such a beautiful dog, and I'm just so broken and devastated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1725057497804681594?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1725057497804681594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1725057497804681594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1725057497804681594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1725057497804681594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title='-'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-5343899922659106397</id><published>2010-01-25T19:22:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:36:46.239+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Five Become Four.</title><content type='html'>I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-5343899922659106397?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5343899922659106397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=5343899922659106397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5343899922659106397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5343899922659106397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/01/five-become-four.html' title='Five Become Four.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2692996120218825137</id><published>2010-01-23T01:04:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T01:13:50.348+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>On Wednesday my brother's godmother passed away. Seven years ago Eric's godparents and family packed up and moved to Perth, and we only ever saw them one other time when Mum, me and Eric went over.&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of my childhood at their place in Sydney. We sometimes drive past the house, and I miss it. The pool, the court on the other side of the road. It was a fun place growing up.&lt;br /&gt;However, not only did she pass away, but my grandfather got admitted to hospital. And it wasn't a good day at all.&lt;br /&gt;Mum was heartbroken, and Eric was devastated. My dad's face was practically blank, and I didn't even know what to feel.&lt;br /&gt;We have had two visitors from England that arrived on Thursday, and today while driving Tom home in the car Mum and one of the visitors, Ken, were talking about life and how these things come quickly out of the dark.&lt;br /&gt;So now I've come to a new outlook, so to speak. I've spent four years living in the past, holding on to hurt, and pain. I blame the circumstances of the time on who I am today, and that may be true. I got sent to a school that is too far away in my books, and I've been taking the same medication that works but doesn't for three years. And I think I need to just live in the moment. There is no later in this life. If we need something, want something, have to do something.. it's all now.&lt;br /&gt;Although this year is important in determining my year next year, I'm going to live in the moment, and remember that there is no longer later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Later does not exist. It is only here, and it is only now.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;Rest in Peace Branka, Uncle Colin, Nonna, Aunty Joyce, Lina, and to all those friends and family we've lost a long the way ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2692996120218825137?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2692996120218825137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2692996120218825137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2692996120218825137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2692996120218825137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/01/on-wednesday-my-brothers-godmother.html' title=''/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-5404257663575341539</id><published>2010-01-14T22:14:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T22:23:57.567+11:00</updated><title type='text'>My Best Friend.</title><content type='html'>She always smiles at me, every single morning. She doesn't argue when I need to talk and walk with her. And I've known her since I started school.&lt;br /&gt;On the 31st of July 1997 I was blessed with the bestest friend I'll ever know. As I write this she lies next to me, silently resting, still with her odd sleep twitches.&lt;br /&gt;She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and my worst nightmare is waking up one day and she's gone. She the gentlest dog I've ever known, even though kids in the street tremble and run when they see her because of her size. She's like Hagrid - soft inside, and caring.&lt;br /&gt;She sleeps a lot these days, and her poor tummy is covered in sores. Today I found the area where her blood was taken, and we're waiting on those results. She has a lump, but because of her age there's no point in doing a biopsy.&lt;br /&gt;I worry about her so much. She's more then a dog to me, she's like the sister my Mum couldn't give us.&lt;br /&gt;I love you Crystal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-5404257663575341539?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5404257663575341539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=5404257663575341539' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5404257663575341539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5404257663575341539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-best-friend.html' title='My Best Friend.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6708051296386618677</id><published>2010-01-01T23:40:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T23:56:01.151+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet You There.</title><content type='html'>So it's now the first of January, 2010. I really don't want to recap on the last year, because I never had that great an expectation for the year anyway. Any year after 2007 is just a little weird to me.&lt;br /&gt;So instead I will focus on the little things that are inside my head, as I feel I need to get them out. &lt;br /&gt;I don't want to go back to school. I find it a waste travelling two and a half hours daily to go to school. I'm considering going to TAFE/doing some courses through Distance Education. I can wave goodbye to Advanced English and do Standard, and I can do Visual Arts through Distance so that makes me happy. &lt;br /&gt;I'm in the almost process of painting my room, so I'm very excited for that. Need a change in my living environment I think.&lt;br /&gt;And lastly, the thing I don't want to address. If you can't give me a good reason then I'll make one for my own self and believe it. I just can't accept it at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;And now I must attempt to fix my laptop and sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6708051296386618677?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6708051296386618677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6708051296386618677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6708051296386618677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6708051296386618677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2010/01/meet-you-there.html' title='Meet You There.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7918556835201135398</id><published>2009-12-18T17:55:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T17:56:35.640+11:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>Waiting.&lt;br /&gt;The worst thing in the whole world.&lt;br /&gt;Time goes so slow.&lt;br /&gt;So, so, so slow..&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do to pass this time.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to know either way..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7918556835201135398?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7918556835201135398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7918556835201135398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7918556835201135398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7918556835201135398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2204405259350127066</id><published>2009-11-09T00:05:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T00:12:36.440+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Lavinia.</title><content type='html'>I want to cut my hair and dye it a dark purple. I wish I could run away, and sit on the beach, at 3 a.m., listening to the ripple of the water. I wish I could escape. Where would I go? I wanted to move to England a few months ago. I want to escape from everything now, and start over. Would it even matter if I were gone? Everything is so fragmented. &lt;strong&gt;What's the point? &lt;/strong&gt;This is not an emo blog, this is life. My life, the way it's been for five years. I need the pills to make me smile&lt;em&gt;, how sad is that? &lt;/em&gt;I need to escape from this all. I need a way out. Not from life, suicidal thoughts are long gone. I'm better in some respects. I just need out of this way of life. I work hard, but for what? What's the purpose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;the tide that left and never came back is on my mind tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2204405259350127066?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2204405259350127066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2204405259350127066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2204405259350127066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2204405259350127066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/11/lavinia.html' title='Lavinia.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3117813714555172580</id><published>2009-11-09T00:01:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T00:04:13.086+11:00</updated><title type='text'>;</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Years &lt;u&gt;pass&lt;/u&gt; and people &lt;u&gt;change&lt;/u&gt;. The bluest skies can turn to grey. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And though it's going to hurt for now,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;every ship &lt;strong&gt;must &lt;/strong&gt;sail away.&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/2117889799767848381-3117813714555172580?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3117813714555172580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3117813714555172580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3117813714555172580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3117813714555172580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/11/blog-post.html' title=';'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8605947063088372362</id><published>2009-10-27T18:47:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T02:41:25.831+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled.</title><content type='html'>What if &lt;strong&gt;everything&lt;/strong&gt; you wanted isn't enough anymore?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8605947063088372362?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8605947063088372362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8605947063088372362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8605947063088372362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8605947063088372362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/10/untitled.html' title='Untitled.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-717889724841391758</id><published>2009-10-19T20:54:00.005+11:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T21:18:18.594+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Tide.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All I ever really wanted was to dream.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;You've been through worse than this, I know you have. I was there, every single moment. I want you to look at this whenever you need to, and know that you have never, not even in your darkest moment, been alone. You're strong, and you know it. Somewhere deep inside is a strength you hardly know you have. People hate for no reason, people exclude for no reason. People do the things they do for themselves solely, and more than anything you've seen this in the last year. You lost a friend because she lied to you, and all you tried to do was help her, because you knew the pain she was in. You tried to be a good person, you tried. You've been trying for four years. And if you fail, you can get back up. You're strong enough to do that, you've fallen time and time again and gotten back up time and time again. You never used to see a future for yourself, because you thought you wouldn't have made it this far. You were pretty sure by the time you were sixteen you would've succeeded in suicide; you wouldn't be here anymore. You'd be with your brother, and your grandmother. But you made it here, and I'm proud of you. Sometimes you want to cry, and that's okay. Sometimes you're sad, and that's okay. Sometimes you miss the past, and that's okay too. You can't let go sometimes, and that's okay. But you haven't given up yet, you've made it this far. You got through the pain, the depression, the dark. You can control yourself now, you don't hate yourself anymore. You got through the dark, the relapse. Your scars are healing, the twenty something you blogged about last year. You used to think you'd never get over it, over what you did, and would cry and worry because every day you thought of it, and the horrible person you had been. And now, you don't worry. You got over it in an almost complete sense. You don't accept what you were and what you did, but you don't hate yourself for it, and know it happened for a reason. Time eventually healed that wound, just like it has healed the wounds from last year, the year before that, and the year before that. You know he has a lot to do with your happiness, and you can't help but want to cry when you think about that. He has changed your life, fixed the brokeness of your life. Healed some of your wounds, and given reason. Sometimes you still wonder what the point of being here is, just like you've done for four years. And sometimes you don't know why. Sometimes you don't know who to turn to, because you yourself don't know why you are feeling the way you do. Sometimes you feel alone, but that doesn't mean you're alone. Sometimes you're feeling lost, but you're not completely lost, and you won't be, ever again. Whatever life gives you, you just have to &lt;u&gt;fight back.&lt;/u&gt; Never forget to fight back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-717889724841391758?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/717889724841391758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=717889724841391758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/717889724841391758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/717889724841391758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/10/tide.html' title='Tide.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-4685518963877125606</id><published>2009-10-08T13:51:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T13:56:23.429+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Soldier On.</title><content type='html'>Wow, it's been a while since I blogged. Well it's holidays, which is super, super exciting. I like waking up at 11 o'clock, and falling asleep in bed while reading or knitting. Only downside is I have to remember where I'm up to in the book. Currently reading Pride and Prejudice, and I'm actually liking it, my second attempt at reading it and all~~ Very excited because my Dad bought me 30 filters for my beautiful camera, and they're arriving today (:~ Oh, I love my camera so ~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been painting a bit too. Need to continue on with Tom's painting, his birthday next week and I'm knitting him a scarf (with my Mum's help ~~), painting him a beautiful (:/) picture, and I've got some ideas for actual presents. Have to go shopping.. Which I really want to do right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it's been a pretty awesome 4 days of holidays. I wish everyday was like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-4685518963877125606?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4685518963877125606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=4685518963877125606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4685518963877125606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4685518963877125606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/10/soldier-on.html' title='Soldier On.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1910485935848162805</id><published>2009-09-06T20:31:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T21:14:11.751+10:00</updated><title type='text'>L.O.V.E - Gotta love Ashlee Simpson.</title><content type='html'>How many girls can say that their boyfriend bought them nine bunches of flowers for their nine months. Not many. I've been told that he has made all guys look bad, and I don't know how to disagree on that. I woke up on Friday to my Mum saying Sarah, you've got a visitor. I looked up at her, and then I saw my beautiful boyfriend behind her with a box full of flowers. I didn't know the nine bunches thing until my Mum came upstairs, and then I was like "Oh my God you hottie McHottie~~". I felt so loved (: We then proceeded to lie down for a bit, and he fell asleep (: Awwww, babyyyy. So then he had to leave.. BUT IT WAS OKAY, I saw him Friday afternoon (: We had a candlelit dinner, it was so cute. His dad cooked us food, and we ate outside with a candle. Awwwww (: It was the best 9 month anniversary I ever had. I love you so much beautiful boyfriend (: So so so so so so so so so much~~ Also, it's my one year with blogger in 2 days! Who else can say that, hmmm?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1910485935848162805?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1910485935848162805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1910485935848162805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1910485935848162805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1910485935848162805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-gotta-love-ashlee-simpson.html' title='L.O.V.E - Gotta love Ashlee Simpson.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7692815744791725939</id><published>2009-09-01T00:45:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T00:51:46.029+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Guitar Hero.</title><content type='html'>But you are my love, the astronaut..&lt;br /&gt;I really love you Amanda Palmer. I'm in bed, about 12:40 in the morning. Cannot sleep, so I thought I'd blog on my phone, and listen to music, just because I can, you know~ I'm very excited for Soundwave, oh lifffeeeez. I feel complete. After Soundwave I can die peacefully. Oh weeeells, what a short blog. Should sleep. Double maths tomorrow, joy~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7692815744791725939?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7692815744791725939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7692815744791725939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7692815744791725939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7692815744791725939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/09/guitar-hero.html' title='Guitar Hero.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-5782944663892270578</id><published>2009-08-26T22:02:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T23:25:12.596+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Mess.</title><content type='html'>Yes, I know I was not going to do a new blog, but I felt like blogging about my beautiful, amazing, cuteeeee boyfriend. I should be doing Ancient, but you know what - Tom's more important. And I really hate Ancient (A)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my dearest Thomas,&lt;br /&gt;How do I love thee~&lt;br /&gt;I love thee greatly, that is how I love thee. That is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;exactly &lt;/span&gt;how I love thee.&lt;br /&gt;I love how you let me put mascara on you, I love how you think I'm a freak when I yell. I love that you and my brother are bumchumzzzz, and I love how you love Crystal, and she obviously loves you too. I love when I see you in the morning, and how you smile at me and then my Mum calls you cute. I love how we have a friend at Gloria Jeans, and how I can tell you anything at all. I love how you're appendix loves me, and how I only have half an ovary left. I love how you're my best friend, and you always make me laugh. But mostly, I love how much I love you, and how much you love me. You mean the world to me ~ I love you jelly belly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-5782944663892270578?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5782944663892270578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=5782944663892270578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5782944663892270578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5782944663892270578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/08/hot-mess.html' title='Hot Mess.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1790321312529011689</id><published>2009-08-23T22:37:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T22:39:16.047+10:00</updated><title type='text'>lykwot.</title><content type='html'>My last post for a very long times - here's to the people that ruined blogger. thnkz guyz. Now I'll just have to find another place to rant and bitch about my tweeny problems.. Oh, wait. Nvr mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1790321312529011689?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1790321312529011689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1790321312529011689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1790321312529011689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1790321312529011689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/08/lykwot.html' title='lykwot.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7835946252741278794</id><published>2009-08-05T18:14:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T18:33:55.946+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Rescue Me.</title><content type='html'>I have no idea when I'm going to start V.A, I just cannot be bothered at the moment. I just want to sleep. Mmmm, sleep sounds excellent at the moment. Not motivated to do anything at the moment. Might just listen to music, make a poor attempt to feel better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7835946252741278794?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7835946252741278794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7835946252741278794' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7835946252741278794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7835946252741278794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/08/rescue-me.html' title='Rescue Me.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8104196202406479559</id><published>2009-07-29T22:57:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T23:03:39.876+10:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>My accomplishments in the past month:&lt;br /&gt;- I taught my self to knit, yayay.&lt;br /&gt;- I got 100% in general maths, a woooooo~&lt;br /&gt;My fallings:&lt;br /&gt;- I'm still a moody child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifty-two weeks ago tomorrow would've been my sixteenth birthday. And I remember that day. I had school, and then had work. And I met up with someone beforehand. She was a good friend, and even though everything ended on bad terms, I find myself wishing her every happiness, and I find myself missing that friendship. I honestly miss working, just for the people I used to know. Except Ziggy. But before him, Oporto used to be this really awesome environment. And I miss those people. I miss the Sunday Crew especially..&lt;br /&gt;So I've changed my aspirations for after school again. Now I want to venture into Egyptology. And even though I'm welcoming the future, and all these new things, I still miss some things. I wish we didn't have to change, but I also wish some people would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just some thoughts as the end of my 16th year approaches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8104196202406479559?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8104196202406479559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8104196202406479559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8104196202406479559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8104196202406479559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7435806436322132739</id><published>2009-07-23T22:07:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T22:25:58.045+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Haunted.</title><content type='html'>Today I went out with Maria, and it was good. I love that girl a lot. Bruno was so bad we had to watch Hannah Montana to make up for it. The highlight of my day was when my Mum told us she wasn't Italian anymore. How, do not ask me ~&lt;br /&gt;Also, I still love Kelly Clarkson forever. We were talking about her in the car and then Since You Been Gone came on and we sang our hearts out~ I also kicked Maria's arse in ABBA Singstar, despite what she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361628537032972962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SmhUv09ymqI/AAAAAAAAAHs/nmbMS3p9EZ4/s320/P4210001-1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Maria, you are a hot bitch. School next week.. Not looking overly-forward to it. But it's my birthday on Friday, and then my party Saturday.. So it should be good. All I want for my birthday is the permission to sleep in every morning, and a big hug from my dog. And maybe a puppy~ So my Bella can have a friend (: Speaking of Crystal.. it's her birthday next Friday too (: I love my dog.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7435806436322132739?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7435806436322132739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7435806436322132739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7435806436322132739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7435806436322132739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/07/haunted.html' title='Haunted.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SmhUv09ymqI/AAAAAAAAAHs/nmbMS3p9EZ4/s72-c/P4210001-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7067031644216815367</id><published>2009-06-27T23:40:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T23:45:39.669+10:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>I never really got into the whole Michael Jackson scene, but every song I've heard in the past two days I know. And I thank my father for that. My dad seriously has all this musical knowledge jam-packed into his head, it's amazing. Like today, he was telling me all this stuff about Michael Jackson. Did you know (atleast in England) the Thriller video premiered at 12 o'clock on MTV? Well I didn't either. Or that he sang a song about his pet rat? Like seriously. I've been hearing all this stuff, like he was depressed and only happy when he was singing, and it makes me sad in all honesty. Lisa Marie Presley wrote in her blog that he said he was going to die like Elvis Presley, and now I can only imagine what his death was like. Hmm, I don't know, but now I'm thinking Michael Jackson was a really amazing person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, I love Kelly Clarkson. For evsssssssss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7067031644216815367?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7067031644216815367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7067031644216815367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7067031644216815367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7067031644216815367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6341269851960690788</id><published>2009-06-15T20:26:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T20:57:45.876+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Anywhere.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;All of these moments are lost in time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But you're caught in my head like a thorn on a vine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To forever torment me and I wonder why,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do I wish I'd never known you at all?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading something, and I know it's cliche, but it was true. To some extent, I don't think we can fully erase pain. When you cut open your skin, it might heal, but there is still evidence that there used to be something there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm sick. I've been taking numerous days off school for the last few weeks, pretty much because I've been feeling depressed. It's being sick, but a different kind. So now I have the flu, and I want to go to school, but I can't. I recently re-discovered my love for The National. Seriously, if anyone knows a site that doesn't fuck up the mp3 downloads from a Youtube video, let me know. I will worship the ground you walk upon. I willllll~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, short blog. I should be reading Strange Objects. Hello English..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The sun and the moon, an ocean of air. So many voices and nothing is there, but the ghost of you asking me why..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why did I leave?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6341269851960690788?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6341269851960690788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6341269851960690788' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6341269851960690788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6341269851960690788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/06/anywhere.html' title='Anywhere.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-5936134587883182469</id><published>2009-06-07T20:42:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T20:48:30.184+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost and Found and Lost.</title><content type='html'>Hello old friend. Well, you were created for a reason, and who have I been kidding! I'm nothing at the moment without my medication. I've been off it for a bit, but today, I took it because I needed to feel a little bit happy. I had a fight with Tom last night, and he treated me like I was this evil accusing bitch who didn't trust him. I was right, and we had a fight, only for him to do what he said he wasn't going to do. And guess what! He didn't even tell me. The joy of Facebook, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what, I don't understand people full stop. I'm just so angry right now. All I wanna do is crawl up and die. My life, without this relationship, sucked. But it sucks right now because I'm feeling a lot of shit inside. I've felt depressed all friggen week. I don't know anymore. I just give up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-5936134587883182469?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5936134587883182469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=5936134587883182469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5936134587883182469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5936134587883182469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/06/lost-and-found-and-lost.html' title='Lost and Found and Lost.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8574004161936222976</id><published>2009-05-16T19:14:00.009+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T19:25:09.341+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Intro.</title><content type='html'>Well, a little update is needed I assume. Got my L's today, about time, I know~ I had my first driving lesson also. Holy fuck, I swear. Went out with Jazz last night, had a good night. I have so much love for that girl~* Haha (: But srsly, I love Friendship Fridays~~*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom's still in America. I'm seeing him in one week! Woo life (: I also need to start organising what we're doing Saturday. I know where we're going, but I need to organise it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm finally getting my government money. $900, here I come. I'm looking at SLR cameras, and the one I was looking at was $887. I told my Dad about it and we went to have a look at them. He saw a model he liked, and then he bought a magazine on reviews and thinks that ones the best to start off with. It's $1400, haha, but he's pretty keen on getting that one for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a photo of my future baby:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336348931870005362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/Sg6FFJGlmHI/AAAAAAAAAHU/mVKL5GsQ-QM/s320/270271324136.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it just beautiful! Haha. I also had my first driving lesson in a Daimler, feeling pretty awesome about that~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having a love affair with Vanilla Tea. The best shit I've ever tried in my life, I swear. Oh, and Grape Fanta~ Dear Lord, where hath thou been all my life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, dinner is ready. I shall blog sooner or later~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/Sg6FFJGlmHI/AAAAAAAAAHU/mVKL5GsQ-QM/s1600-h/270271324136.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/Sg6FFJGlmHI/AAAAAAAAAHU/mVKL5GsQ-QM/s1600-h/270271324136.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8574004161936222976?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8574004161936222976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8574004161936222976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8574004161936222976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8574004161936222976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/05/intro.html' title='Intro.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/Sg6FFJGlmHI/AAAAAAAAAHU/mVKL5GsQ-QM/s72-c/270271324136.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8864743889763873023</id><published>2009-05-10T18:00:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T18:11:20.032+10:00</updated><title type='text'>If I Can't.</title><content type='html'>For all the hours here that move to slow,&lt;br /&gt;There's all this letting go that won't pass.&lt;br /&gt;If all this love is real how will we know?&lt;br /&gt;And if we're only scared of losing it how will it last?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8864743889763873023?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8864743889763873023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8864743889763873023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8864743889763873023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8864743889763873023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-i-cant.html' title='If I Can&apos;t.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2048578148351927113</id><published>2009-04-18T22:16:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T22:47:55.680+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Let Go.</title><content type='html'>So.. I have an aunty with skitzophrenia, and my mother actually told me how it all happened, how she became sick in the first place..&lt;br /&gt;All over some boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I was thinking.. Wait.. Why am I on medication again? Initially, it was over &lt;em&gt;some boy. &lt;/em&gt;Maybe there are some genetics involved, you'd have to check my family's history. But realistically, I got put on the medication because I couldn't handle where I was going, all because of some boy. Now I'm not blaming the circumstances on someone else, I know in my heart what I did was wrong.. The person I used to be was just wrong.. Everything that happened after that day was just.. Not how it was meant to be. And I couldn't get back to what I wanted.. And that pain took a toll on my body. It's been over three years, but I know it's still there somewhere. And since that day I had believed that if I found something that was &lt;strong&gt;worth fighting for &lt;/strong&gt;everything would be okay, I would be okay.. If I could fill the void in my heart then everything would be okay. I'd be home again, I'd be safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of hard believing I can be safe again when I'm so vulnerable. I lost a lot of friends the past years, but I've managed to keep the most important one, the greatest one. But I lost a friend, a few months ago.. And I miss her. And I guess sacrifice is a big part of our life, even if it isn't to the extremes some would imagine. And a part of me dislikes myself for the decision I made..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing I wish I could have, more than anything in this world, is faith. I want faith in God, I want faith in the people (most of them atleast) around me. I want to be able to believe in better and greater things, I want to find truth in the words people say. But the thing I need to do, before anything else, is protect myself. I need to take care of my heart, and to make sure that tomorrow I'm still breathing just as easily as I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pain's never left my side. It's something I carry with me everyday. It's there in the morning when I take my medication, when I'm going to a school thirty minutes away instead of ten. It's there when I look at the people I've known for two years, not five. When I come home and look at the cemetary, it's there. When I shower, there's marks over my body, where my self-inflicted pain is clearly present. There's pain in the people around me, especially my mother..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm questioning the world again.. I used to believe that someday all of this would get easier, would be better.. But now I don't believe that. I got what I thought would make me feel better, but overall the outside world seems to have nothing to do with it. It's in my mind. But if I'm sick, how will I feel better? It wont get easier, simply more manageable. This, however, seems to now be my life. And all I can do is accept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We all begin with good intent, love was raw and young. We believed that we could change ourselves, that the past could be undone. But we carry on our back the burden, time always reveals - in the lonely light of morning, in the wound that would not heal.. It's the bitter taste of losing everything that I have held so dear.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2048578148351927113?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2048578148351927113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2048578148351927113' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2048578148351927113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2048578148351927113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/04/dont-let-go.html' title='Don&apos;t Let Go.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-9009374895553671717</id><published>2009-04-14T18:10:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T18:30:05.053+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled.</title><content type='html'>I looked in the mirror today, and for the first time in a long time I felt like something was missing. What is hope exactly? It's an unseen thing, but a word spoken of. Is it a light at the end of the tunnel, is it a saviour? Is it someone that can pull you out of a hole, or offer you words of consolation? Hope.. to believe something desired may happen, to trust.&lt;br /&gt;So this is the Age of Despair, right? What's the opposite of despair? What is despair? It's the opposite of hope. This is the Age of Despair.. so can hope really exist? If these years are the ones of despair.. There is hopelessness..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is no hope.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;I've never understood the purpose..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Never.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-9009374895553671717?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/9009374895553671717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=9009374895553671717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/9009374895553671717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/9009374895553671717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/04/untitled.html' title='Untitled.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8547260044226634462</id><published>2009-04-03T19:36:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T09:40:01.828+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Shadows and Regrets.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;All I want is to be home.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8547260044226634462?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8547260044226634462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8547260044226634462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8547260044226634462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8547260044226634462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/04/shadows-and-regrets.html' title='Shadows and Regrets.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-4857206597465559257</id><published>2009-03-31T21:45:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T22:05:48.952+11:00</updated><title type='text'>321.</title><content type='html'>So my mum's pretty sick, and my dad's pretty much a bitch. Threatened to kick me out and called me a liar, woo, loving life~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couldn't even go to school today, had to take care of my mother. Eric had to walk to school and got hit by a car, double woo~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all honesty I can't wait for the weekend, and then the holidays. Friggen going to be sleeping in past seven! YAY LIFE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh, so annoyed at life &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the 31st today, so four days ago it was the 27th. I was writing, somewhere, about the past years. And I can't believe it's been nearly two years already. It's like between the shit at Grammar and when she died, that was only a year, but it felt like two different worlds. And it's nearly been two years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday, when I come home from school, I catch a train. And I look out, when we get to Lidcombe, at the cemetary. I miss my Nonna everyday, I still miss her. When I think about how much has changed since she passed, she has missed out on so much. She didn't get to meet her newest grandson, and I feel sorry for him, because he's never going to meet her. He's never going to understand, I guess, what he's missing out on because he's never going to know her. My oldest cousin had a baby girl, and I remember when Nonna died, and how much it affected her. And now my cousin's child won't know her either. My Nonna's a great-grandmother, and I know she would've loved that child more than any of us probably could.&lt;br /&gt;It makes me sad in all honesty. The life and death cycle, it just makes me sad.&lt;br /&gt;Someone can have such an impact on your life, and be gone the next second.&lt;br /&gt;They're just gone.&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing beautiful about death, it's a cold, watery chaos that seeps into our lives. And that chaos can leave, or stay and turn into an ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you Nonna,&lt;br /&gt;everyday.&lt;br /&gt;27/04/07 (L)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-4857206597465559257?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4857206597465559257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=4857206597465559257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4857206597465559257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4857206597465559257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/03/321.html' title='321.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8219130679326810603</id><published>2009-03-14T21:41:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T22:15:53.462+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Squalor Victoria.</title><content type='html'>I think I've accepted that I need certain people, but I don't want them to know how much. And I can be a bitch about it, but I'm seriously trying my hardest. I'm trying to be better than what I know I've been, I'm trying. It's kind of always been me against everything, and I'm not used to having people on my side. If I tear myself down, I have to tear them down also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because I don't want them to know how much I need them, they don't know when they upset me, and I can't explain it. And it's all stupid. In my head it's not, but in reality, it's just completely stupid. I'm a really jealous and insecure person, and I practically have no self esteem. To me, everyone else in the world is better than me, so why should I have these good things when they don't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being sick doesn't help the situation either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8219130679326810603?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8219130679326810603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8219130679326810603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8219130679326810603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8219130679326810603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/03/squalor-victoria.html' title='Squalor Victoria.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7896217494034243468</id><published>2009-03-06T23:19:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T23:41:51.243+11:00</updated><title type='text'>What Sarah Said.</title><content type='html'>So I had a sudden urge to clean my room, partially. And I did so.. Partially. I think I came across one thousand bits of paper. I am not joking either. And on six of these bits of paper is a poem I wrote, just around the time my grandmother passed away. Pretty much is a summary of the things that happened, leading up to when she died. And I don't know, but reading it.. It feels like it was a long time ago, and it feels like it was yesterday - at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I don't know when we'll see each other again or what the world will be like when we do. We may both have seen many horrible things. But I will think of you every time I need to be reminded that there is beauty and goodness in the world. " &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all, and goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7896217494034243468?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7896217494034243468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7896217494034243468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7896217494034243468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7896217494034243468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-sarah-said.html' title='What Sarah Said.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8954179600346266539</id><published>2009-02-26T22:45:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T22:55:09.740+11:00</updated><title type='text'>A Short Story Of Nearly Nothing.</title><content type='html'>S0 last night = Amanda Palmer.&lt;br /&gt;Fucking awesome. I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sang a song, I've been trying to find it's original artist but I've failed to do so. And in the song, it said "I don't need you to need me to need you". It said 'want' was fine, but needing was bad. Because, and she sang this, one day you die. Now in some context maybe dying isn't physical. Maybe it could be the dying of a relationship. So if you need someone to live, and it doesn't work out, you'll be fucked. But if you can learn to not need them, and just want them, if things don't work out, you didn't need them to live, so living would be in reach. Pretty much, it all made sense. You know, for the past few days I've been feeling really shitty. And I know there's some sort of reason behind it, but this song spoke to me. Back when Tom and I weren't talking, I found it very hard at first to cope because I felt like I needed what he gave me. Turns out I was stronger than I thought. And gradually, you know, slowly, I started to be okay. I started to realise I didn't &lt;strong&gt;need &lt;/strong&gt;him. I only wanted what he gave me because it made me feel better than whatever I used to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just not a really strong person.. And I think I needed to hear a song like that. Kudos Amanda.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8954179600346266539?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8954179600346266539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8954179600346266539' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8954179600346266539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8954179600346266539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/02/short-story-of-nearly-nothing.html' title='A Short Story Of Nearly Nothing.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3343144429100121232</id><published>2009-02-24T18:56:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T19:30:28.221+11:00</updated><title type='text'>For An Optimist, I'm Pretty Pessimistic (See what I did there?)</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I am short on words..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I guess to start off with.. happy three years. I was dreading today, since the other day when someone said it was the 24th, and it wasn't. But it's here. I woke up, and I didn't remember. I was doing homework, then I remembered.. I don't know what to do now. I don't know.. What's the point of this? What's the point of it all? I don't understand it now.. I don't understand life.. I don't know why we have to fight, why should we fight? I don't want to fight right now.. I'm not strong enough.. But I just can't bring myself to suicide.. I don't want to end, but I don't want to fight. I just want to be at a place where I'm at peace. Where I don't feel what I'm feeling inside.. But I know that from here on out there's just going to be more hard days. More hard times. Nothing's going to get easier, only harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would I want to live in a world like that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-3343144429100121232?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3343144429100121232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3343144429100121232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3343144429100121232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3343144429100121232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/02/for-optimist-im-pretty-pessimistic-see.html' title='For An Optimist, I&apos;m Pretty Pessimistic (See what I did there?)'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-4136029692933401281</id><published>2009-02-16T20:06:00.008+11:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T22:54:26.129+11:00</updated><title type='text'>It Hurts</title><content type='html'>So somedays, today being one of them.. I just get upset. There's nothing really wrong, but it's one of the depressing days I go through every few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the day where I tell people I don't mind being alone, but I want, more than anything, someone to tell me I'm not alone. Most of the time these days I've got a smile on my face. But I'm not naive to think everything's going to stay this happy, blissed-out way. I know, sooner or later, I won't be as happy as I have been the past few months. I'm not being negative, I'm just being realistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the days like this I have to remember why I get this way. I don't know.. I just don't like thinking about the past anymore. I'm sick of revisiting times, and thoughts, and memories of people that made my life unbearably hard. I don't advertise my blog link anymore. People get critical of what I write in here, and all I want is to be able to find a place, online, on paper, whatever, where I can express my thoughts..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now..&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-4136029692933401281?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4136029692933401281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=4136029692933401281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4136029692933401281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4136029692933401281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/02/it-hurts.html' title='It Hurts'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1994626140217942927</id><published>2009-02-05T22:57:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T17:16:02.099+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello/Goodbye.</title><content type='html'>I've been able to keep things from affecting me the past two months because simply I've been oblivious all along. I've been telling myself everything's okay, and I've been believing it. I've been able to live without regret for a while now. I don't regret the things I did last month, last year. But I did regret last night..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want something in this world, then you fight like hell for that something. If you want it bad enough, you keep fighting. If you don't get what you want, you either didn't want it bad enough, or gave up. Don't ever blame your circumstances on someone else. At the end of the day, you've been dealt some sort of card, and how you react determines everything. If you've had a bad year, then you fight back until you're satisfied again. If you've gone through a bad time, a bad break up, a bad friendship, then you still fight back. If there's anything in this world that can destroy you, you fight against it. Fear leads to regret. Fear holds you back. But if you're at a point right now where you want something, and you know you want that something, then you need to fight like hell for it. Not fighting is stupidity, because if you look back on this day next month, next year, and didn't fight for what you wanted, and some how lost, you'll regret it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's always a winner, and always a loser. Someone who gets what they want, someone who doesn't. There's a poor winner, and a poor loser. The winner who rubs it in, and the loser who can't accept. This world isn't the best to live in. It's hard some days. I'm not saying it's not hard, I've had numerous hard days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I wished I hadn't left my first high school. Because if I hadn't, maybe someone could've gotten what they wanted. I had some stupid regret for some obviously stupid reason. I shouldn't, and I won't, apologise for my happiness. If that's what you want from me, then you'll never get it. Because I am not sorry about any of this. You say you've learnt from last year, and you haven't. Because if you've learnt anything, you wouldn't be so oblivious to the facts now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't lose something if it was never yours.&lt;br /&gt;If you wanted whatever, then you should've fought for it.&lt;br /&gt;You say you did it to spare my feelings..&lt;br /&gt;That's a load of shit.&lt;br /&gt;Who am I to you?&lt;br /&gt;Who are you to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year sucked, fine.&lt;br /&gt;I know it sucked.&lt;br /&gt;I lived through the sucky days.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not excluding that.&lt;br /&gt;And I still wish I could do something about it, because you used to be a really sweet girl that didn't deserve any shit, and all I ever wanted to do was help you when you did have un-needed shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't do anything anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I realised that last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right. You believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You showed me that quote.&lt;br /&gt;And sadly, you were right.&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing else to say.&lt;br /&gt;All I can really say is I'm sorry you fell for someone that didn't love you back.&lt;br /&gt;I can say sorry for that.&lt;br /&gt;Because that's the real worst kind of pain..&lt;br /&gt;The pain locked inside your heart.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you happiness, but that's all now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1994626140217942927?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1994626140217942927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1994626140217942927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1994626140217942927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1994626140217942927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/02/hellogoodbye.html' title='Hello/Goodbye.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3966047768423987227</id><published>2009-01-24T19:30:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T22:23:59.215+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Not To Think About It..</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Where were you when everything was falling apart?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Wow, today sucked hard. Work is gay, so very gay. It's like the Italians verse the other ones, verse Iggy. All I wanted to do, all day, has been sleep. I woke up and wanted to sleep. I got in the car and wanted to sleep. I got to Burwood and wanted to sleep. Walked into work, wanted to sleep. Got to the chip station.. Wanted to sleep. I only waved at Hot Kebab Guy once all day, and that was after my shift. I don't understand why people would want to come to Burwood and eat HOT food on a fricken hot day.. I really don't.. &lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So this is where you are.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And this is where I am.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Somewhere between unsure, and a hundred.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Ten minutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Twelve minutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Wow. Maybe I will clean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck this shit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The last thing I need tonight is this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sixteen minutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Nineteen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My family is totally awesome.&lt;br /&gt;Everything is awesome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So I was reading someone else's blog. Every second person I know now blogs, but, still, I read someone else's. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I don't like complaining about my situation in the world. I don't like writing "zomg, does my boyfriend really love me? I've got everything I want but still I'm suicidal.. Why am I depressed D:" in every single fricken blog. But this person did..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I'm sorry, but this week I've lost and gained respect for people. And after reading that.. I don't know.. But I don't understand people anymore.. If you've got what you wanted, why are you sad? Maybe it's not what you wanted! So don't sit there and complain about it, figure it the fuck out. My patience has really run out now..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Is it my lack of understanding, or is the human race really just becoming shallow pieces of dirt?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hello, my name's Sarah.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm a deep girl in a shallow world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.. A really shallow world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I used to feel stronger than this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I really did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I went for a very long time, knowing I needed someone but not having them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I used to be strong.. In the days I thought I was weak.. I was strong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;That was strength,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Who I was.. She had strength.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I went two years, hurting, but I made it out of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I'm not suicidal anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I don't self harm, I'm trying to be better than that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I'm trying. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;But right now..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I don't know what to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I had a shit day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;A shit night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;And all I want is The Fray to sing me to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&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/2117889799767848381-3966047768423987227?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3966047768423987227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3966047768423987227' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3966047768423987227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3966047768423987227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/01/see-these-bones.html' title='Best Not To Think About It..'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2228453487619589760</id><published>2009-01-22T22:52:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T23:50:27.837+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Hopes &amp; Fears.</title><content type='html'>There's a few bands in the world that I know of that have something unique and powerful about their music. The vocalists have a way of sending a chill down my spine in a very much good way, and the lyrics leave me thinking and wondering hours after the song has finished. For maybe four or five minutes, the music I'm listening to gives me something to believe in. These artists may come from a place half way across the world, but for some minutes in time, are with me, telling me with the words they have, secretly.. Everything will be okay in the end. They might not say that, but there's something in their voice that is telling me, letting me know.. That the pain they are singing about, the lessons they have learnt, the music they are playing - in the end, everything is going to be okay. There is something truly powerful and wonderful about a band that can give hope and belief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this post is entitled "Hopes &amp;amp; Fears". I don't just randomly name these blogs, it's usually after a song. But this post is after an album. Probably one of the greatest albums I own. It is the title of an English rock bands' first album. This amazing band is Keane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this blog is dedicated to my hopes, and my fears. What I wish for, and what I dread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hopes:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;I'll do good enough to get into uni, and hopefully get to pursue something arty ~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Everything I want right now is what I have tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;One day have a great family. I really want a daughter. I'm thinking the name Alison something-or-other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Meet Hugh Laurie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;One day somehow let Andrew McMahon know his bands song 'Hammers and Strings [A Lullaby]' made me have an undeniable and sadly sorrowful outlook on life. It made me believe and reflect. It sent a million chills down my spine at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;The same goes for Evanescence. Except for one song, it's their whole four albums plus the leaked shiz. God I love Amy Lee so truthfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Have an artwork of mine in an art gallery. I don't care where - just anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Being able to look back and have no regrets with anything. I'm like that right now. I regret nothing, and it's a great feeling (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Being a good person the next sixty years or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Being able to one day be strong enough as a person to do what I truly want. Not just sit back and let it all happen, but take action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Go to a total of 100 gigs by the time I'm 25. Counting now, I've been to: Hilary Duff (Y); The Veronicas; Kelly Clarkson; Tegan &amp;amp; Sara; Foo Fighters; Architecture In Helsinki; British India &amp;amp; co.; Kevin Devine &amp;amp; co.; Panic at the Disco, TAI &amp;amp; Cobra Starship; Goodnight Nurse;. - There's probably more, but I'm tired and it's hurting to think. So that's ten. I need ninety more in the next nine years. I can do it (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;One day not being afraid of change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fears:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Getting old too quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Losing sight of what's important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Not persuing in the art department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Not getting to be the person I wish to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Not being with the people I want to be with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;A world without Tom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Just overall not living life because I'm too scared, or because I don't think I'm strong enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;Having regrets. Regrets kill me. Trust me on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- &lt;/strong&gt;I think I could live with not meeting Hugh Laurie, or the Evanescence and Jack's Mannequin things. But I would very much like to cross off the rest of my 'Hopes' list as done (: I wouldn't like leaving a single one. I fear that. Everything in that list is something I want in my future. I need that list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's what I've got tonight. I finished work two hours ago, and I'm tired. If I think of more, I'll be sure to add them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You think your days are uneventful and no-one ever thinks about you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She goes her own way. She goes her own way.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You think your days are ordinary. And no-one ever thinks about you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But we're all the same.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;And she can hardly breathe without you.. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well think about the lonely people.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then think about the day she found you.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or lie to yourself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And see it all dissolve around you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Keane. I love this album. I love that song.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2228453487619589760?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2228453487619589760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2228453487619589760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2228453487619589760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2228453487619589760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/01/hopes-fears.html' title='Hopes &amp; Fears.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7705591460301694574</id><published>2009-01-18T20:59:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T01:31:06.366+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Either Way, I'll Break Your Heart Someday.</title><content type='html'>So when my first relationship ended I used to have a book where I wrote down everything, where I sketched my drawings.&lt;br /&gt;Then one day I didn't have that book, and I felt very lost without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same thing kind of happened with this blog.&lt;br /&gt;I started blogging because I was feeling pretty lost and angry, and then I gave up on it a few days ago, and I felt a little lost this afternoon when I was thinking about it. Looking at the posts I've done since September, this blog kind of seems like the book I used to have, where I'd come and just write about how shit life was without that certain person, and how I was trying my hardest to be okay, but certainly failing at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been going good now. You know, when I started this blog I didn't think I'd ever say that.. Definately not about Tom, that's for sure. But, in the department of Sarah's shiz, things have been good.. Maybe not a few days ago, but you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I kind of started this blog at 9 last night, and it's 12:42 a.m now. I need music, but my iPod's dead, so I'm waiting for it to charge and listening to Tom's iPod. Man, the only band I really know on it is Three Days Grace. So now I'm listening to a song about suicide ~~ Yayyyy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(8)This world will never be what I expected;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And if I don't belong, who would have guessed it?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will not leave alone everything that I own.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To make you feel like it's not too late - it's never too late.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even if I say it'll be alright, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Still I hear you say you want to end your life.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now and again we try to just stay alive,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe we'll turn it all around, cos it's not too late.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's never too late.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to love that song so much.&lt;br /&gt;It's a good song actually.&lt;br /&gt;So is Gone Forever. I loved that song x 91820209719182o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(8)Don't know what's going on,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't know what went wrong.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feels like a hundred years, I still can't believe you're gone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I'll stay up all night, with these bloodshot eyes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;While these walls surround me with the story of our lives.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I feel so much better now that you're gone forever.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I tell myself that I don't miss you at all.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm not lying, denying that I feel so much better now that &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You're gone forever.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And now it's coming clear,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That I don't need you here.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And in this world around me,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm glad you disappeared.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah,&lt;br /&gt;I loved that song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This night feels like a night of remembrance ~&lt;br /&gt;Remembering who I was, who I was with, what music I listened to.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm listening to Hawthorne Heights (:&lt;br /&gt;I gave up on his iPod, but I'm using his earphones ~~ (Y).&lt;br /&gt;They're good ~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired, but I'm in the mood for Susie Suh, so I need my iPod.&lt;br /&gt;I really like finding artists who can express great emotion into their lyrics and music.&lt;br /&gt;Susie Suh fo' sho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, this blog's going to be about music.&lt;br /&gt;Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda Palmer's coming to Australia ^^&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, maybe I'm in the mood for The Dresden Dolls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(8)Say what you will, I am the kill.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just spent a good half an hour watching Amanda Palmer on YouTube (Y).&lt;br /&gt;Blog out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7705591460301694574?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7705591460301694574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7705591460301694574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7705591460301694574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7705591460301694574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/01/either-way-ill-break-your-heart-someday.html' title='Either Way, I&apos;ll Break Your Heart Someday.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-83107251153056882</id><published>2009-01-03T19:22:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T01:35:55.069+11:00</updated><title type='text'>You Found Me.</title><content type='html'>Usually when I'm depressed I find solace in these blogs. I can be all pissy, and write about it. So much harder it seems to right about my happiness. Not that there's nothing to write, it's just a hell of a lot harder writing about happiness. With sadness, with depression, all I have to use are words like 'solitude' and 'lonliness' and the moods' set.&lt;br /&gt;The only word I can use to relate to happiness.. Is happiness. And I am happy. At the moment, so very happy. I feel complete, I feel worthy. I feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to always worry about not being enough. It's this damn feeling that used to stick around, the feeling that used to pop up the second something went wrong. I failed - you're not enough. I lost - you're not enough. It feels really good to not be questioning my worth anymore. It's like I just let go of who I used to be. It's an amazing feeling to not feel anything like I used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so grateful that I met him. I don't regret anything of who I've been, I don't regret anything I've done.. Because every single bit of my past has led me to this spot, has led me to him.&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't have any of this any other way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, my phone bills going to be high this month.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck 3.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-83107251153056882?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/83107251153056882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=83107251153056882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/83107251153056882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/83107251153056882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-found-me.html' title='You Found Me.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2618964863563538341</id><published>2009-01-01T12:47:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T17:48:51.062+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Original Fire.</title><content type='html'>This will be my last blog for 2008. Honestly, I can't believe it's New Years Eve. The whole year seems to have flown by, and now the future is just tomorrow. This blog will probably be short, but I do need to blog one last time for 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year has been one of the best years of my life. I'm happy, fullstop. Looking back on the things that have happened this year, and the things I've done, it's a big thing to state that I'm happy. I've come along way since the beginning of 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad to see 2008 go, but I'm happy for 2009. I can't wait for next year.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that's all.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye 2008, hello 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy New Years!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2618964863563538341?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2618964863563538341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2618964863563538341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2618964863563538341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2618964863563538341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/original-fire.html' title='Original Fire.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8314328118320086332</id><published>2008-12-26T02:26:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T03:16:23.023+11:00</updated><title type='text'>For Blue Skies.</title><content type='html'>When I started this blog back in September I was in a pretty bad place. And now coming close to the end of 2008, I really couldn't be any happier. I started this blog because I got hurt, bad, and there seemed to be no one, or nothing, to confide in. It almost seems unbelievable that the person that makes me so happy was also the one that put me in that bad place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, more than any other year, was the year that gave me closure. Both years before this I was carrying some sort of burden into the next. 2006 into 2007.. All the Adam heartache, and 2007 into 2008.. Nathan &gt;&lt;. This year, I let go of it all. I don't miss my past anymore. I don't miss the people I used to. In 2006, and 2007, when New Years Eve hit, I was dreading a new year. In 2006, the year was the only thing that connected me to the people I was missing. As soon as 2007 started, there would be no connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come a long way from who I was at the beginning of the year. There were some days I was sure I wouldn't make it through, some days I thought were the end. Maybe this year hurt a lot, but it was also the most rewarding out of the last three years. I think the most unbearable pain is feeling alone. Alone - a simple word, but it hides a dark truth. I've pretty much felt alone for the past three years. I know I have friends, props to Jasmine here, but I guess the relationship you might have with a friend can only help the pain a bit. Honestly, I think love can save anybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess back in September, what was hurting me the most, was I thought I'd lost someone completely.. Someone I thought I could have really loved. Although losing him apparently had nothing to do with me, there was always the sense of regret.. I always thought I could have done something.. Anything.. To keep him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, rather depressed and angry at the world, I started a blog aimed at expressing how much I hated feeling rather depressed and angry, and how much I hated people who lied. People who broke promises. That right there was what broke my heart.. Straight out, I was honest.. And he promised.. And he broke those promises.. And I guess my regret was also aimed at me believing in him. I regretted believing him, because I knew that if I hadn't believed him, losing him wouldn't have been so terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't forgotten those few months where Tom wasn't in my life. I love him, so much, but I haven't forgotten. I'm still scarred. &lt;em&gt;The promise of hope renewed.&lt;/em&gt; I guess now, when I think about it, I'm happy.. A bit, atleast.. That it happened. He missed me enough to come back, and I missed him enough to let him back into my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was cautious, however. This time, first and foremost, I was protecting myself. Before anything, I needed to know that no matter what happened, I would end up being okay. Because I had fought so hard to bring myself out of the hole that was created when I got crushed. And no way in hell did I want to go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm glad I didn't listen to the opinions of others. For once, it seemed, I was standing up for myself, and I know I made the right choice in letting him in again. I'd go through all I have this year again for him. He has helped me so much, and has become such a big part of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him so much. Meeting him changed my life. I could write a million words about him, but no string of words will ever be able to explain how much he means to me, and how much I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will always be in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;That, I'm sure of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8314328118320086332?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8314328118320086332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8314328118320086332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8314328118320086332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8314328118320086332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/for-blue-skies.html' title='For Blue Skies.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6325651725301535685</id><published>2008-12-17T19:24:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T20:16:46.769+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Be Simple.</title><content type='html'>I guess it's always a shock to find out who people are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's our own fault for never accepting who they were, just having expectations of a person they never were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly somewhere along the way I got used to losing people. Maybe I haven't lost this person, I've just lost the connection we once had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The greatest thing about coming back is catching up with all you left behind.&lt;br /&gt;The hardest is looking your past in the face - and knowing they should've been part of your future.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now should be the highlight of my year. But I can't help and feel sorrow for the loss I'm feeling at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;You know what's worse than losing someone?&lt;br /&gt;Losing someone and them not even showing a bit of sorrow in return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironic at the moment - yes.&lt;br /&gt;I guess the loss I'm feeling at the moment, however, isn't my fault at all.&lt;br /&gt;All I ever did in this situation is love somebody.&lt;br /&gt;But I guess with every person that wins, there is somebody that loses.&lt;br /&gt;But I can't do anything about that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I just have to accept the circumstances now, and move forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt pretty crappy last night - so I started the above blog. Yes, I cut bits, but this is the general, not-so-depressive version.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to start taking the prescribed doses of my medication. At the moment I only take one a day, but I think I should take two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mkay, new day.&lt;br /&gt;I bought presentsss today (: About to go wrap them, so more laterz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6325651725301535685?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6325651725301535685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6325651725301535685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6325651725301535685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6325651725301535685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/just-be-simple.html' title='Just Be Simple.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7952400378862862497</id><published>2008-12-12T14:04:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T21:42:19.177+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Cold As You.</title><content type='html'>Two people in a matter of a few days have asked me why I started to blog. Honestly, I used to be very open about how I was feeling. I used to tell people I was depressed, I used to tell people I was on medication, I used to tell people I cut, I used to tell people I was suicidal.&lt;br /&gt;Key word, of course, being &lt;strong&gt;used to. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One relationship I had with a person that meant a lot ended because I relied on them too much. I guess ever since then, I've been weary of telling anyone anything about my depression, in fear of them too having enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Woke up, and wished that I was dead, with an aching in my head, I lay motionless in bed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I thought of you, and where you'd gone, and let the world spin madly on. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everything that I said I'd do like make the world brand new and take the time for you - I just got lost and slept right through the dawn and the world spins madly on.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I let the day go by, I always say goodbye, I watch the stars from my window sill, the whole world is moving and I'm standing still.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Woke up and wished that I was dead with an aching in my head I lay motionless in bed. The night is here and the day is gone, and the world spins madly on.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I thought of you and where you'd gone and the world spins madly on.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I heard the above song shortly after my Nonna died. I do have songs that make me cry, because the lyrics are a bit too honest, and this song definately stood out. I look at myself now and I know I've come a long way. I've carried a lot of guilt around inside for two years, and I hadn't heard the above song in a while until yesterday (yes, I didn't finish this blog last night so now have to continue) and it got me thinking. There have been significant days where it has simply been shouted to me "Sarah, you're world is about to change". I guess my grandmothers death was a big change.. This was a loss that couldn't be undone.. And, in my suicidal and depressed state, felt that I, had in some ways, caused the death. Yes, this may seem farfetched, but let me set the picture for you.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The day my Nonna died was the day my year at Rosebank went to the Blue Mountains for an excursion. The day before I made a suicide pact with a friend.. We were to both die.. I was very depressed, and I don't even remember why. I was still seeing my psychologist, and was on medication. But, before this I had been relatively okay with things. I had been at Rosebank for a month and a bit, and I wasn't as angry as I had been. But something that night made me snap, and I made a suicide pact with a friend. I recall overdosing, but that being it. Enough to make me pass out.. And I did.. But before I lay down.. I prayed, for the last time in a long time. And I asked for pain to be taken away.. For me to be taken away.. For me to wake up and just be gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My Nonna woke up and pretty much was gone. I felt like this one another punishment for the person I had previously been. That call that morning.. It wasn't meant to have happened. My mother promised me 2007 was going to be better than 2006. And not even half way in I felt like I caused someone's death. Someone that loved me. I still think sometimes that it wasn't coincidental, that it was planned. And this day I lost faith in any God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;She had a heart attack, and was without oxygen for too long. She died that afternoon. No one was there, no one was there to say goodbye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Mum picked Maria and I up from school that day. We went to Maria's house, and Mum, Dad and my Uncle left to go see Nonna. They were too late. No one called us to tell us anything. My Dad called, assuming I knew..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It was Strathfield Station awkward times a million when he had to tell me. We went to the hospital and Mum said she thought Nonna looked peaceful, that she was out of her misery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I looked at her face and she looked angry to me. And just remembering that face is enough to make me cry. Everyday coming from school I pass the cemetary. And I look out, thinking she's there somewhere. Mum said now Tommy's not alone. He has someone looking after him. My Mum is the strongest person I know. She lost her son, after being divorced to a guy because he didn't want kids. She had a lot of trouble having Eric and I, and I nearly died like my brother because she had internal bleeding. I hope I'm half as strong as her when I'm older.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I don't aim to focus on the negative. But I can't really erase what has happened. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;For a very long time I wanted it to be me. I waited to be taken away. I can't change that about me, I can't change who I've been, who I am.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I've had an overly hard time fighting back the circumstances I have been in. And it has scared me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Anyway, back to what this blog was originally intended for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I started blogging because I lost faith in the world. I didn't trust anyone once I hit where I used to be. I felt alone, and abandoned. I felt left behind, and betrayed. I don't bottle things up, I do let it all out. I used to let it out by cutting, then wandered back into drawing, and now I choose to blog. With blogging, I can say, or type, whatever I feel free to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I started blogging because I was hurting a lot. And I was trying my hardest not to fall back into coping by self harm. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Parts of me closed off this year. I guess I've learnt not to trust everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Man, my blogs are starting to sound very depressing lately, and I'm so happy aswell. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7952400378862862497?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7952400378862862497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7952400378862862497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7952400378862862497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7952400378862862497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/cold-as-you.html' title='Cold As You.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7344910169566005398</id><published>2008-12-10T22:35:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T01:04:38.636+11:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do You Dream?</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been trying to believe in the good of people. You know.. Trying to believe everyone has a good side, everyone cares about everyone..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously that's not true. What's affecting my mood at the moment is the hold one insignificant moment of time to one person can have on another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The greatest act of love is sacrifice.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what's secretly breaking my heart inside is I've been in the spot of watching someone I love love someone else. And it honestly sucks to be there. So this age is the age of despair? Yep, that's right. I guess it isn't so much of a shock anymore when I find out what people think inside. Everybody has a secret part to themselves, a hidden side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling a bit alone lately. I can't really explain that, I can't really explain why. I guess I've just been used to being on my own, and maybe subconsciously I will choose that as the way to deal. But regardless, I have been feeling alone. I don't talk to the people I used to.. You know for various reasons.. Sure, in one relationship I wish it hadn't been ruined, but it is. Now I can't talk to her about it, because I'm sure she doesn't need to hear about it. Everyone else? Well I guess there opinions were made, and now I'd rather not hear what they think, even if their veiws may have changed. I kind of don't have anyone to turn to.. I still feel insecure. And I guess I don't want to talk about it because I'm still not sure on it all. I guess when we love someone losing them daunts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt pretty crappy tonight. I don't know why, but I did. I guess I still don't think I'm enough.. And I'm hurting a fair bit..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not hurting because someone wronged me, I'm not hurting because I'm heartbroken..&lt;br /&gt;I'm hurting because I simply always hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy I love loves me back. My mother and I were talking about the whole situation at the beginning of the week and she told me not to care about what's going on on the outside, to just enjoy what I have now because I deserve to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not worried or anything.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I just have a bad-like day, and when that happens I contemplate where I am in life. I'm pretty damn happy with everything at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish some things stayed the same.&lt;br /&gt;However, everything is constantly changing. All I need to decide is who I'm going to be in that picture.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7344910169566005398?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7344910169566005398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7344910169566005398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7344910169566005398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7344910169566005398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-do-you-dream.html' title='How Do You Dream?'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2241551755314929111</id><published>2008-12-09T21:55:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T22:06:11.594+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Brown Paper Bag.</title><content type='html'>Things have been going very well lately.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm reading over very old blog posts, and I feel rather shitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was rather depressed two months ago, now that I read over my words..&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say that what I was feeling was over exaggerated, but it wasn't. Those blogs.. I can still remember writing them.. I can still feel the sting of tears.. The sting of the cuts..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been exceptionally good. I feel amazing, and so happy. I'm looking forward to the future, not back into the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are good. Everything's good.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this is a short blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2241551755314929111?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2241551755314929111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2241551755314929111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2241551755314929111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2241551755314929111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/brown-paper-bag.html' title='Brown Paper Bag.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2229560254062745807</id><published>2008-12-06T12:44:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T01:53:30.432+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections - 2008.</title><content type='html'>This time last year I was just finishing Year 9. Year 9 was a sucky year, a follow up to an even worse year before. I think at the beginning of this year all I wanted was to let go. To look in the mirror and be happy with the person that was looking back at me. I've changed from the person I used to be. I've become stronger, and I've become happier. I don't see the end like I used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night (today is the 7th of December) someone from my old school decided to try and attempt to talk to me, after almost two years silence. She asked me if I still hated her, and I already knew the answer without having to think. No, I don't hate her. I don't hate anyone. There are two words I will never use without true feeling behind the word, and those two words are "hate" and "love". Yes, I do believe there are different kinds of hate and love, and there are only two people, excluding my friends - who I do love, dearly - that I have said the word 'love' to with true feeling. I do believe the word "love" is used to losely, as goes the word "hate". I never, nor ever think I will hate somebody. So no, I do not hate her. Nor do I dislike her. My only problem was I had expectations of a person she wasn't, and I got disappointed in who she turned out to be. However, like I said.. Whatever happened, happened forever ago.. And.. Like I've lately come to realise.. It was a lesson. I gained knowledge from it.. It was all part of a greater picture.. Whatever happens happens so for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the biggest thing that happened this year was my heart healed. I started this year in a pretty bad place.. I was just starting to feel the emotional turmoil of things I had buried down.. Which was pretty bad in my opinion.. Maybe it's because I had buried it down I had forgotten things. I can remember the distinct day where I started to hurt again.. And my mind had gone fuzzy.. I couldn't remember where I went wrong, but I did. And somewhere in my head I thought that I would never find someone who would love me, because I had somehow lost the only people who could. I thought I was too damaged for any sort of person to come around and see someone more than who I felt I was. So I guess that day was a day where I felt honestly and completely alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who was I to know that in just a matter of months things would start getting better? And slowly, they did. But I guess with every high, there has to be some sort of low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And suddenly I was back to square one.&lt;br /&gt;This hit me hard. I started hating myself again. I started losing trust in people, and I started losing trust in myself. Some thought it was stupid that I got hurt easily, others thought I got hurt too quickly. Some tried to warn me, and probably wanted to shout to the heavens that they had been right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;People always leave.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Always..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But sometimes they come back.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he did. At first I was fairly hesistant..&lt;br /&gt;With Adam, I think I tried to believe he would come back, because he would miss me.&lt;br /&gt;But he never did come back, and I was left waiting for him for a very long time. And when the time came for me to accept that fact, it had been harder to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, however, I accepted that he wasn't coming back. What had happened had happened, and I would hopefully meet someone who would change my veiws again, but hopefully this time not leave me so broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it still hurt to see him, it still hurt to have to go to work and see him weekly. Because yes, I had loved him, and I did miss him. But it felt like he didn't.. He didn't care. And each week I was disappointed, because he just confirmed the fact that he didn't care. So I quit. Why the hell should I have to stick around in a place that had once felt like home but now felt like hell? I just quit, because one Sunday I had had enough. Oporto just didn't feel like it had once felt, I sure as hell didn't feel like I had once felt.&lt;br /&gt;I had lost trust in so many people, and I don't even think they realised it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was there, my last shift. Didn't speak to me, and I had kind of expected it. I guess I still wished to be amazed, but I wasn't. He left, and to be honest.. I thought that was the last time I'd have to see him.. I guess I thought that was it.. Even though I say I accepted it, I missed him like hell.. And I was sad in thinking that was the last time I'd have to see him, but I guess I had convinced myself that if it was meant to happen, it would happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened.&lt;br /&gt;He messaged me.. I checked my phone as I was leaving work.. And there was a message from him. I guess from that moment onward whatever sadness I had felt didn't matter..&lt;br /&gt;How many times do we get another chance to make something work in our favour?&lt;br /&gt;It just didn't matter, because he had come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, like I stated, I was hesitant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've only ever told one guy, besides Tom, that I loved him, and that was Adam. And yes, I did love Adam. But I also loved Adam when I was thirteen.. And that love seems insignificant to the love I feel towards Tom now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to type anything in this blog to scare off Tom.. But he's done so much for me this year and I don't even think he realises. The main thing, the thing that makes me love him so much.. He saved me from myself.. He came into my life and just changed the outlook I had on the world. And yes, he broke the promises he made the first time. But to be honest, I needed it. I needed some sort of warped reminder that the world isn't just magically fixed like I thought it was. But the thing that gives me comfort.. He came back, and he made us better. He made me love him again. He just fixed it all.. The insecurities, the tears.. The pain..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He fixed our relationship the day he admitted he missed me. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He fixed my heart the day he told me he loved me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always going to thank him for who he is, and what he's done for me. At the beginning of the year all I wanted was to just feel something more than the absence I had felt for the year and a half before. I always felt like something was missing.&lt;br /&gt;I was right. Tom was missing. Now that I've found him, I never want to be without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, 2008 -&lt;br /&gt;I will always remember this as the year I was fixed. The year I fell inlove with the guy that saved me. The year that proved to me that there is no end.. Just new beginnings..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2229560254062745807?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2229560254062745807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2229560254062745807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2229560254062745807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2229560254062745807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/reflections-2008.html' title='Reflections - 2008.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6458097196146148349</id><published>2008-12-05T20:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T01:16:26.348+11:00</updated><title type='text'>All I Want.</title><content type='html'>Well tonight, or yesterday, whatever - was one of the greatest nights I've had in a long time (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom and I are together now ((:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have turned brighter in a week that looked very grey. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I definately wouldn't have thought this is how things were going to turn out three months ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, I'm going to go to bed. &lt;br /&gt;Maybe I shall elaborate more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6458097196146148349?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6458097196146148349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6458097196146148349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6458097196146148349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6458097196146148349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/12/all-i-want.html' title='All I Want.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6122719092914838449</id><published>2008-12-03T17:20:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T22:20:36.677+11:00</updated><title type='text'>You Don't Love Me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;center&gt;'There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.'"&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's easy to find solace in words of people who have been gone for a considerable amount of time. Who said the above quote? A woman by the name of Mary Ann Evans, better known as her alias George Eliot. It's easy to hide behind a persona, I believe. It gives us the freedom to say what we want, without honestly being judged. How would it have come across if a woman had said the words above in the nineteenth century? Not very well, I believe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have faith that in my 'tomorrow', whatever time that word refers to by the way, everything will be better. I have faith that everything will work out. And really, I think I've finally gotten better at convincing myself of that fact. Instead of worrying over things that I probably shouldn't worry about, I rely on facts and words to convince myself otherwise, and it works. I mean, right now I still need to talk about it, but I'm not worrying, I'm feeling alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't see the end anymore. I haven't attempted suicide in a few months I guess, and I'm quite proud of the fact. Contemplating suicide and attempting suicide are two completely different things, and all I've done lately, if anything, is contemplate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess in a few ways I do have a persona.. Something I do hide behind.. But I don't hide to honestly exclude anyone, I just hide because I don't truly understand the things I feel, the things I do.. I'm not very good at explaining what I feel, why I feel this way..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying the person I come across is fake, all I'm saying is that person isn't 100% of what I am. Today two people at work said I changed, and I did take that to offence.. Mainly because the thought of 'change' isn't a welcome one, even though I do know that I have changed. When I had a fight with someone close to me they said that people usually change for the better, but I've changed for the worse.. Even though she was angry with me, I do believe that some parts of me may have changed for the 'worse'. Now I have more understanding of the things that happen around me, I understand a bit better why I have, in the past, felt the way I have.. I just understand more in general.. Maybe I haven't changed for better, or for worse, I've just changed for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to Alex:&lt;br /&gt;I was angry when I found out about the Ellis shiz.. But I guess I was just angry because it never came from your mouth, not once, even when I asked. But I'm not angry anymore about that.. I know more than anyone how hard it is to admit that we fall for the people we do, and how hard it is to try and make it work for us, but it's all worth it in the end. And even Ellis said it.. It's worth the fight because of the smile we get, and the feeling we have, when we are and think about them. You need and want him more than I ever will, and I know how hard it is to find someone that loves, needs and wants us back just as much. I have no right to come between that. No right ever. He was always meant for you.&lt;br /&gt; __&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost all I typed )): It was very long too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog had been going on for four days. I'm pretty much feeling all good now ~ Everything that confused me has been cleared up, and all is well in the land of Sarah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to work extra hard to get money for Christmas. I've worked the past two days, have work tomorrow, two formals, cruise and then work again. Fun fun fun &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I think I'm going to continue on with my letter for Tom. More blogging later perhapsss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6122719092914838449?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6122719092914838449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6122719092914838449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6122719092914838449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6122719092914838449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/broken-wings.html' title='You Don&apos;t Love Me.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1189305882695459093</id><published>2008-11-27T20:22:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T20:29:36.172+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Made Of Scars.</title><content type='html'>Today it struck me. I feel like in a certain relationship with a certain person I've tried to do all I can to accomodate them; I've tried to do all I can in my power to let them know that no matter what has happened, it hasn't changed anything.&lt;br /&gt;How wrong I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess now that I know, she might feel a bit intimidated because I'm the one who 'got' what she wanted. I really cannot do anything more; I've tried to talk to her, I tried seeing her today, but it all has changed. I guess I'll just welcome the change and see how the world is. So, sometimes we lose. In this case, I know I haven't &lt;strong&gt;intentionally&lt;/strong&gt; done anything wrong. I don't think I even have done anything wrong, but she might think I have. However, I'm not going to do anything to try and fix it. I forgave her, and I tried to be her friend. In the end, I guess this is where we were meant to be. I know she's heartbroken, or hurting, or whatever, but I never actually did do anything wrong. And if she chooses to act this way, I too will act this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You had me crying for you honey and it never would've gone away;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You used to shine so bright but I watched all of it fade.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moreee laterrrr;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1189305882695459093?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1189305882695459093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1189305882695459093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1189305882695459093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1189305882695459093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/made-of-scars.html' title='Made Of Scars.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3695959673194900215</id><published>2008-11-24T19:16:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T19:43:44.911+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Years, Nine Months.</title><content type='html'>Today I looked at the date.. 24th of November.. The number 24 triggered something, and I got back to thinking of the 24th of February, 2006.. Two years, nine months ago.. Today. I worked it out, and that is one thousand and four days ago. The number one thousand just screams forever ago.. It really was forever ago.. It feels like another lifetime..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm thinking about everything that's happened since the 24th of February, 2006. I remember that day so clearly. That day was a good day.. I've had numerous good days, but that one stood out. The only date that I can think that beats that is the 14th of this month, early in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lately everything's been a bit.. Out of it? I don't know, I'm starting to look around and see people differently. The world seems so bright, but has so much darkness within. I'm starting to accept that people aren't always who we've expected them to be.. Maybe the people we thought we knew only exist in our minds.. Maybe they weren't ever them.. Maybe they never will be..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really still shocked about how many days have passed.. In practice it feels like yesterday sometimes, but in theory it happened one thousand days ago.. That's over twenty four thousand hours.. Thats over one million, four hundred and forty thousand minutes ago..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-3695959673194900215?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3695959673194900215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3695959673194900215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3695959673194900215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3695959673194900215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/two-years-nine-months.html' title='Two Years, Nine Months.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-5786720447793239489</id><published>2008-11-23T19:20:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T00:10:48.845+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need You.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;It doesn't change the way I feel about you at the end of the day..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could change anything, it would be the lack of honesty I seem to show.. I would change how un-honest I've been this week.. I've been lying to everyone I guess.. Even myself in a few ways. How I wish with all my heart I felt more than this stupid feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started to break out in pimples and have lost 3 kilos over the last seven days.&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to start taking more happy pills, one a day doesn't work wonders.. Maybe two a day will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole world feels like a million miles away.&lt;br /&gt;And I can't stop it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess whatever I said last night has no truth to it tonight.&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, later here.&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted to do was talk to Tom, and I have.. And everything feels good again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to say who, but someone asked me what it felt like to be with him.. And then they told me that that feeling was reason enough to fight for it.. And they were right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very tired atm &gt;&lt; I think I shall sleep now.&lt;br /&gt;Type more tomorrow (Y)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-5786720447793239489?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5786720447793239489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=5786720447793239489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5786720447793239489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5786720447793239489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-need-you.html' title='I Need You.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8894344798018471048</id><published>2008-11-23T04:42:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T22:25:06.975+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Empty Space.</title><content type='html'>I wish I could go back to the way I felt in October, because despite all, I was able to not hurt over this situation. I had begun to accept and let go, and it felt good to do that. Now, I'm not so sure if I can make myself happy like I used to. I feel confused, and tired, and angry, and I don't know what to do about this. I just want to talk to him.. But I feel like I bug him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain this any simpler. I'm worried as hell.. And I think I'm worried as hell because I don't know what's going on in his head. I don't care what it is, I still would like to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later, have to go to work.&lt;br /&gt;___&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think today was a good day for a lot of people..&lt;br /&gt;Argh, I've got nothing more to say, other than today sucked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8894344798018471048?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8894344798018471048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8894344798018471048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8894344798018471048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8894344798018471048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/empty-space.html' title='Empty Space.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1233066659463618612</id><published>2008-11-22T15:31:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T22:50:46.848+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Slow Down.</title><content type='html'>This week has just reminded me of things I've already known, for a long time..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look back on the past years, and I think all I'm trying to do right now is understand. I'm trying to understand myself, I'm trying to gain greater knowledge. I look around my room and there's places that just trigger memories. I look at my bed now, and I was sitting on the right side on a Monday, around 9:00 p.m. in 2006.. and it was in that spot that I told myself that I was going to suicide.. And I think that was the first time I ever intended to honestly carry it out. Then, if I walk into the bathroom and look in the shower, I was there the same night trying to drown myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's the point of reminiscing? Quite truthfully, it never leaves me. I've let go, but I still carry it around with me. I'm reminded every day that I'm not with the people I love the most because of me.. And sometimes I hate it, and sometimes I regret it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this week has just re-opened my eyes to what I've always, or should have always, known. Life can still shock us, life can still surprise us.. Life can fuck us around till there's no point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has done all three to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Life can still shock us:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say Sunday night was a pretty big shock. Mainly because I had remained oblivious, and maybe because I expected more. But I was a factor in the shock metre, and I can't do much about it. It hurt to have to figure it out.. But hey, life does that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Life can still surprise us:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've kind of had a rough time since August this year, and it's only started to get better recently. Read previous posts if you must, they'll probably give a better outline. I don't think I was as happy as I was on Thursday night/Friday morning ever, because it was then that Tom told me he loved me. And I think I could've started crying. I could type for a very very very long time about this, I could.. But basically I gave up hope in August, and him telling me he loved me.. Just was the best thing that could've happened.. I just can't explain that. I guess the surprise was knowing that there was always hope. The surprise was overall knowing that he cared still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Life can fuck us around till there's no point:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because I say it was the best thing, doesn't mean I haven't been fucked around this year. Seriously, this year hurt more to be honest. And I think that was because I convinced myself my fighting days were over, when they clearly were just starting up again. I kind of let my guard down to be honest.. I thought everything would've been okay. And it wasn't okay, and I didn't know what to do. There were times when I tried suicide, there were moments when I contemplated the end. And it still hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't try to be negative. I honestly have tried my hardest this year to make it through. The week before trials I didn't want to wake up. It was the night of the Oporto meeting/dinner, and I got home, went to bed, and told myself I wouldn't be able to do the exams. Pretty much gave up that night I think.. And maybe I wouldn't have made it through, I don't know.. But I slowly did.. And I made it through the School Certificate aswell.. I'll make it, I guess. One day I'll be okay.. I just have to work for it.. Nothing in this world comes easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I could explain who I am better. Sometimes I wish I could talk about it.. But I guess if I choose to let someone in and know it all.. I won't have any place to hide, I'll be exposed.. I had someone like that a while ago now, and it hurt a lot to lose that. Because all of a sudden I was on my own. And it is hard to fight for yourself.. atleast it's hard for me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I've always expected people to turn out like the ones I've known before. Doesn't mean it makes it easier when I find out they are like them.. Possibly even worse then them.. It just means that I have expected it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes feel like I've fallen short of the person I should've been. And sometimes I understand why people do the things they do to me.. I just wish this life was easier.. Sometimes I don't think I'm going to make it. And that's the hardest thing in the world for me to understand.. I'm not overly proud with who I am, nor with what I've done and become..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I could take it back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1233066659463618612?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1233066659463618612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1233066659463618612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1233066659463618612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1233066659463618612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/slow-down.html' title='Slow Down.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6579205023575936985</id><published>2008-11-18T09:30:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T14:31:00.945+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Give Me Heart.</title><content type='html'>I woke up and for a second forgot while I felt so crappy. Then I remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The joys of automatic save on my laptop~&lt;br /&gt;How come I didn't notice everytime Tom was brought up her nickname changed to something depressing? Oh, she just said atleast you got the guy you want :/ Hmmm. Okay, I'm looking at the convo from yesterday.. What did I do to deserve to get "cut"? This is seriously fucked. Hey Sarah, you feel betrayed, and yesterday the person that has caused the feeling of betrayel said she wanted to cut you, but you didn't realise it was you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, well I didn't go to school today. I couldn't even explain to mother why. All I said was "I don't feel well", and when she asked why I said that I had just found out some things, and she got all concerned, then I said "Isabelle" and she asked if Tom had anything to do with it and I said he just confirmed it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't think anything will go my way. You know, I got some form of happiness but I'm still getting screwed around. What the hell is wrong with this world? Okay, I get it. I get it.. I'm never going to stop hurting. Thanks world, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like an idiot because last night I felt like I couldn't do anything to help her and the Ricardo situation. Who knew I caused the fucking situation? You know, I wrote her a blog and after that I felt so shit because I looked back on everything that has happened and I don't think I deserve to be happy.. You know, I went for a shower, and I could see cuts on my arms, on my legs, and I just thought that I would do anything in my power to make her situation better for her. I felt guilty because, despite the fact that I was crying then, I was happy. You know, I'm happy now, but I am not a good person, and I've done things a good person would never do, and in that respect I thought that I would've done anything to give her the happiness I had. I'd be okay with suffering, because I always had been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her to tell him! What the fucking fuck. It's the fucking lying I don't understand. It's not that you have feelings towards him, it's that you lied about it. I feel so tired and sick of having to miss school because I'm this way. I am so sick of people disappointing me this past week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wanna talk to Tom ): He makes me feel so much better. Argh, I'm gonna watch One Tree Hill &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, gave up on One Tree Hill. I'm feeling a bit better now.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yay for life ~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6579205023575936985?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6579205023575936985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6579205023575936985' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6579205023575936985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6579205023575936985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/give-me-heart.html' title='Give Me Heart.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8560040828662244510</id><published>2008-11-16T19:12:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T19:58:56.236+11:00</updated><title type='text'>The Only One.</title><content type='html'>I feel sad, because a friend of mine is going through some shit and it reminds me of how I used to be. I guess with this whole Tom situation, it really has opened my eyes. I've been through a lot of pain these past years, but I guess it was all worth it to have Tom tell me he loves me again. You know, even typing that and my eyes are watery. But it's true. I think back on the past years, and even though I have wished a thousand times to change all the events, I wouldn't if I was given the chance.. Because everything I've done has led me to Tom. And I don't remember ever feeling as happy as I do when I'm with him, when I'm talking to him.. Even when I'm thinking about him..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it makes me feel useless in a sense because she's feeling as useless as I used to. She reminds me of Year 8 Sarah. Year 8 Sarah was the worst Sarah I remember. I used to try and escape into music, I used to draw my problems away, I used to sit in my bed, and cry, every night. I was suicidal most in Year 8. I used to take a million pills throughout the school day, and there was no effect on me. I used to cut, a lot. And I got that way because I lost.. I lost and it changed who I was. And she's the same way right now. She's lost, and she doesn't know how to explain what she's feeling. She's trying to escape into her music, and she told me.. She feels like there's a hole in her heart. I used to think I had no heart. I used to be so numb. I can't explain the numbness I feel. But when I feel happy, I can feel happy inside. When I felt numb, I felt nothing inside. I don't know if anyone reading this has felt no emotion like that, but it sucks. Seriously, it feels like something's missing.. So I understand the hole in the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm listening to Evanescence. There's a song called Missing.. I think this song pretty much sumed up how I felt in Year 8. I used to think there was never going to be a way to get over what happened.. I used to expect that one day, I would succeed in my suicide.. Or, the person that broke me would come back. I never succeeded in the suicide, and that person never came back.. But I made it. I got over what happened. With a lot of counselling, a lot of medication, and someone else helping me get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was okay, until that person was gone. I had got over what had happened with the said person from before, but I hadn't let go. So I was doubly fucked because I missed them both. The situation with me and my friend is different in terms of what had happened.. But they still had the same outcome..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both feel like we weren't enough. I felt like there was something greater out there that had prevented their return.. And sometimes it still hurts. But I think it hurts because it was the first time I had experienced pain. It hurts because I still look over my body and see cuts.. And I still, sometimes have dreams of a place where none of this had happened. I sometimes have dreams of them coming back.. And, up until now, I used to wake up in a far worse sort of pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I want to cry. Because I'm in pain. I feel sick, I feel hurt.. I would be lying if I said it ever stopped hurting. Because I will always carry the mark of what happened.. I have scars on my legs, on my arms, I haven't got the hair I used to have..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I wish I had something to tell her that would let her know it's going to be okay. Because I guess right now she's feeling far from okay..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, and this isn't the only thing that's making me feel shaky at the moment. Who knew it was possible to lose so much respect for so many people in 24 hours? Sarah didn't, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I won't ever fully accept that everything's going to be okay. But I accept that there's always going to be a tomorrow, and that day might make everything okay, even for a minute. I wish I had more advice to give, I wish I could say something that could fix the pain thats been inflicted.. But I can't. All I can do at the moment is keep reminding her to continue on fighting, because there will be a tomorrow, where it will be okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8560040828662244510?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8560040828662244510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8560040828662244510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8560040828662244510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8560040828662244510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/only-one.html' title='The Only One.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8904597966837821531</id><published>2008-11-16T10:09:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T15:09:41.238+11:00</updated><title type='text'>You Can't Break A Broken Heart.</title><content type='html'>I have attempted to blog about four times since my last post, but have just given up on all four ~ However, now I have something to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I could write forever about how much he means to me, and how happy he makes me. Maybe I will write forever, just maybe. I can't go one hour without thinking of him. I can't go one day without talking to him. I don't know why I can't say I love him.. Maybe saying that isn't enough. I need him. And I don't think I love you says that. I need him, so much, and I don't ever want to be without him. I don't ever want to wake up again and know I'm without him. I feel better, I feel needed, I feel loved, I feel wanted.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every wonderful year we contribute to a time capsule at Rosebank College, and I like to write a letter to myself. This year so far my letter just consists of things about Tom. And that lovely extract above is from my letter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, like, really morning :/ Tom told me he loved me..&lt;br /&gt;I just had finished deleting messages that told me he loved me from before. It hurt a lot to think he didn't love me anymore. But, you know, I have adjusted myself to be okay with it. I still don't know what he wants from me.. I want to be with him, I do.. But it's just hard, and it's confusing. I'm pretty proud of the way I built myself up after all the shit that has happened. I think I've become stronger, and I know I definately think and analyse before saying anything now. It just really confusing and hard to understand the way I think and feel. I don't find a lot of meaning now when I tell people I love them.. I just don't think that word is such a great thing to say. I mean, how many times a day are we told that we are loved? What is a love? Is it a great affection, is it a need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this week seems to be the week everyone's finding eachother. Where am I in this road? I'm trying to find myself. I'm seriously sick of analysing this shit &gt;&lt; I know what I want, I know where I want to be.. But people seem to not accept that what I want is right.. It's not going to be good for me, it's just going to cause more pain than happiness. Blah, blah, blah. Now that I'm doing the time capsule reflection letter, I look over the past year.. What has happened, what didn't happen.. What I won't admit to the world, and what I will:&lt;br /&gt;1. I fell in love.&lt;br /&gt;2. I got, I guess Jazz was right - I got pulled around on a string, and then I got cut off. I wasn't what he needed/wanted. You know, I understand it, I do. I understand where, well I understand where Jazz is coming from. She can say whatever she wants really, she's my best friend and she's been through all this shit with me, and I know she just doesn't want to see me get hurt again, I know that. I just wish it didn't hurt this much. It all hurts, all of it. Because if something isn't right, if something doesn't go right and everyone's sure it wont, I'll only have me to blame. 3. I confused anger and hate with emotions of want.. Nights where I didn't know who I was.. Nights where I know I used people to add some sort of emotion to the void in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;4. I let go. The main thing that affected me this year to be honest. I had nothing bringing me down after I let go.&lt;br /&gt;5. I lost friends. &lt;strong&gt;People always leave, remember Sarah?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I gained friends.&lt;br /&gt;7. I was reminded of what it felt like to be truelly happy.&lt;br /&gt;8. I went back to self harm.. Today I could see the faint scars of cuts on my arm..&lt;br /&gt;9. I lost myself, for a while.&lt;br /&gt;10. I learnt that it was possible to feel after your heart breaks.&lt;br /&gt;11. I mainly learnt that life is hard. However, I already knew that life sometimes sucks. Now I understand more - I guess we honestly just have to make the most with what we have.. What we are lucky enough to have.. Because I know that it's possible to lose sight of what's important.. It's possible to lose sight of what should matter in life. Sometimes life sucks, so you need to make the most of what you have during those sucky moments.&lt;br /&gt;12. Letting go can be simple. You just need to meet someone that makes you want to let go. Part of not being able to let go comes with the honest truth that you don't want to let go. Sometimes you need someone to become your reason of letting go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'll ever be able to beat my depression. I'm okay with that. I know I need to continue, always fighting, because there are things in this world that are going to bring me down. There are things in this world that will want to ruin me, things that will take me back to the person deep down I am sometimes, the one who just wishes that twenty months ago, when she asked to be taken, she got taken. I will never let go of that part of me, because I have some sort of chemical imbalance that wont ever leave. But in the end, this is all a lesson. And I'm going to make it someday to a place where I wont have to think of the bad in the world. One day, it might be tomorrow, it might be years from now.. I will be okay completely. I will be able to handle what I feel, and develop my emotions into words. One day I won't be this. One day I'll be something better, I'll be something greater.&lt;br /&gt;Everything from now on is just leading to that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when that day comes I won't show hatred and anger to this day. I won't show any forms of regret to this year, or the two before. One day I won't look back and be angry. One day I'll look back and smile. One day..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8904597966837821531?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8904597966837821531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8904597966837821531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8904597966837821531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8904597966837821531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/you-cant-break-broken-heart.html' title='You Can&apos;t Break A Broken Heart.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-4564663468574844061</id><published>2008-11-09T19:51:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T20:45:31.207+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Hope For The Hopeless.</title><content type='html'>So, I guess I didn't really know what I expected of today.. I feel.. Better.. In a sense, not completely as great as I did at the beginning of the week.. But, better.. You know, it's progress. I guess I've found some internal answers that I've been searching for. I feel.. I don't feel as numb, that's for sure, I felt something today..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to type at the moment.. I guess I need to type some form of truth.. So I will.. I just need to find that truth again.. I don't think I've felt like I did today with someone else in a while.. I feel like I'm making some sort of progress, but there's still something lingering.. I can't even really figure out what it is.. It's not fear.. I think it's a lack of knowledge.. Uncertainty? Maybe. Okay, I guess there's a form of fear entwined within.. And I think this is what got me in trouble last time..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When has uncertainty ever not brought fear? When has the lack of knowledge not brought about some form of fear? If someone can find me someone who has ever had some sort of situation involving uncertainty and HAS NOT been fearful, I need to talk to that person today. Because, I'm pretty sure every single person I know has felt fear when they are facing the unknown. I need people to understand that this is not a one off "zomg-scared-and-unaware-of-shiz" feeling.. I have felt fear throughout my past, and it just so happens that yeah, I'm afraid again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want people to understand where I am coming from.. I need to somehow make people understand where I am coming from.. Because I do NOT, not ever, ever again, want to doubt what I am doing. I do not ever want to wake up and feel like I've done something wrong, or stupid, because I cannot find people who can agree with what I am doing. I need to do this, all of it, for me. I need to have peace in my mind that this time I've done everything I could do to make something work in my favour. Yes, it's been pointed out that last time I got hurt bad. Yes, I know I got hurt bad.. I've got the missed days on my report, the sketches in my art pad, these stupid blog posts, I have reminders that I got hurt bad.. Daily reminders. But there is always going to be that chance that no matter who I choose to trust, they may hurt me.. Someone told me, basically, that you just need to find someone worth the chance. I feel like I have, and now I'm choosing to let go of all that hurt.. I don't want to think about it anymore, I don't want to be reminded of it anymore.. Because it did hurt bad.. And when people point that out, it makes me wonder if I'm honestly doing what's right for me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me remember that pain.. I do remember the numerous conversations I've had over this stupid topic.. I do remember how much it hurt to wake up some days.. I do, I remember it all.. But I also remember the pain I felt before that.. You know, pain I felt from two years ago.. And I remember how that hurt.. I remember all of it.. I do.. Just like I remember the pain from this year.. But I remember the feeling I had the day it didn't bring me down anymore.. I remember the feeling I had the day I could let go, the day I stopped punishing myself.. I was able to let go of that pain because I had found something that made me not doubt myself anymore.. And I honestly think that that something made me feel so much better, about everything.. So I then lost that something.. And I think that's what caused my greatest downfall.. I had started seeing the world as a place that didn't want to punish me.. I had this false belief.. Some stupid belief that everything would be okay, and then it simply wasn't. I had built this belief on the fact that I had met someone, someone that pretty much was the whole belief. So I lost that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in some ways I lost myself.. And I think this is where the concern my friends are showing is aimed at.. I didn't go to school for a few days, and when I did, it was pretty much crap. I missed Nathan more, simply because I didn't want to admit how much I missed Tom. So then I think I faked being okay.. In times of true stress I don't remember much.. I know I slept a lot, and I know I lied a lot about being okay. I know I contemplated, and attempted suicide, and I know none of it made me feel even remotely better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, I understand why my friends are concerned, and I understand why they worry. But if this blog post can have one outcome, it will be that my friends understand what I'm feeling right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, I still don't know.. How to explain what I'm feeling, and what I'm doing.. I'm not a strong person, I don't know how to fight back.. That's partly the reason why I do kickboxing. My mother wants me to feel like I have some power and can defend myself. I feel quite small when I look around and see other people, I sometimes feel insignificant.. And I'm usually one who gives up if the war seems too hard. I need people who read this to realise that I am far from strong, I am far from what I see as a capable person.. I have always felt as though I could be more as a person.. I feel regret a lot.. For the things I didn't say, the things I didn't do.. The things I know I could've done to make it all better. Now I've been given some chance to make it all disappear.. I need to do this for me.. I need to feel okay with everything again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to feel that this time I did everything in my power. I feel right, even though at this moment I'm feeling not completely good.. I just feel better.. I feel like I'm doing what's best.. I just wish the people who care about me the most could see where I'm coming from.. I just don't want them to expect the worst.. It makes me expect the worse. I want them to understand that I have gone over this a million times in my head, and I still feel like I'm doing what's right for me. I wouldn't go into something without thought, not now.. Not after all this..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-4564663468574844061?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4564663468574844061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=4564663468574844061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4564663468574844061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4564663468574844061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/hope-for-hopeless.html' title='Hope For The Hopeless.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7497589729645507620</id><published>2008-11-08T13:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T15:23:20.244+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing.</title><content type='html'>So.. I'm pretty much unsure on everything again. And I want so much to be sure. You know, I want to know if it's going to be alright.. And I want to know now.. Because it's so hard to not listen to people.. People that seem to know me better than I do. I feel so much better now, and I don't know if I'm going to forgive myself if I listen to them enough to back out. But I don't know how to not listen.. I can't help but agree when they tell me things I already know.. But I won't be okay if I listen to them.. I don't even know how to stop crying now.. And I don't know what to say..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want that feeling I had at the beginning of the week.. I want to feel okay.. I don't want to dread everything again.. I want someone I can talk this through with.. You know, I just want someone who wont agree with what every is saying.. Trust me, I've spent hours this week analysing, and going through my head, just thinking everything through, and I come to this wall. I don't know how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been crying for about half an hour now. I woke up this morning dreadful enough to go back to sleep. It hasn't been like that in months now.. I just want tomorrow to come, and hopefully I'll know. I want to feel in my heart that I'm doing what's right. I don't feel anything at the moment.. I just don't know how to explain it. It was pointed out last night, that yeah, he's hurt me, and maybe I just need to hear everything from him.. Then maybe I'll know how I feel. It's killing me inside.. It is.. Because I just want today to be over.. I just want tomorrow to come.. I just want it to be alright..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don't know how I feel, I admit that. Jazz said last night that I was in love with him, and that's not true. You know, I'm not in love with him. If I say I don't love him I'm lying, and if I say I love him I'm lying. I know, it's confusing. I'm confused. And I think it has come this far with us, that I need to do this for me.. If I back out, I won't forgive myself.. Because I'll then spend a very long time wondering what could have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I didn't feel so fucking confused and lost ): I wish I felt better about it all.. But I don't.. I just need tomorrow to come.. I need that feeling again.. That feeling I had that no matter what, I'd feel okay about everything. I need that feeling today.. I need that feeling, instead of this crummy dread feeling. I felt so okay, so sure of everything, and now I don't know what I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, in three weeks, I'm back at Oporto. Yayforlife~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7497589729645507620?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7497589729645507620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7497589729645507620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7497589729645507620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7497589729645507620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/missing.html' title='Missing.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-5067109212812722899</id><published>2008-11-06T20:04:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T20:09:05.384+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Always Be Right There.</title><content type='html'>I love how much my friends care for me, I love how they look out for me. I love how the worry about me, and I love how they only want what's best for me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could explain what I'm doing, but I guess it would be very hard for them to comprehend. Most have known me over a year and half, a few have known me for longer.. And they've all watched me fall.. They've seen me be crushed, and they've watched and assisted as I built myself back up. I guess now it's very much harder to understand what I'm doing.. I can try and explain it, but it won't make much difference.. I need to do this, for me. And right now, I need this. I love you all so much for caring, I do, but there's only one person who is going to be able to change my mind about this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-5067109212812722899?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5067109212812722899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=5067109212812722899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5067109212812722899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5067109212812722899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/ill-always-be-right-there.html' title='I&apos;ll Always Be Right There.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7654355004470259568</id><published>2008-11-05T10:36:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T11:14:32.637+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Show Me The Meaning.</title><content type='html'>Day 3 of being home D: Argh, stupid medicine with the stupid making me more sick-ness. Besides that though, I'm all good (H).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I guess if I went back and read some of my first blog posts.. I'd see how far I've come.. Maybe I'm going back on my words though.. Because I can distinctly remember saying in one of the first posts I need to make my own happiness. I want to make this work.. I want to do everything in my power to make it work.. I mean, I just feel so much better now.. And obviously people can see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't hurt anymore.. And it's an amazing feeling. I mean, for two and half years, I've been in pain.. And now, nothing hurts anymore. And I never thought I'd come this far.. I never thought I'd make it.. But I did. I haven't drawn in what feels like ages. And usually I draw when I feel something I need to express. Negative expression, by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there's one thing that wont ever change.. I'm always going to be scared. I'm always going to fear change, and loss.. But right now my fear isn't effecting me as much as it used to. Maybe I have changed.. Maybe it's the fact that I know now that there's always going to be a tomorrow.. There will always be something out there, something to pick us up when we've fallen down.. You just have to find it. And yeah, life gets hard. But somedays.. Life gets great. And those are the days you need to live for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning of the year, I just wanted to let go of everything. I wanted to look in the mirror and say that "my name is Sarah, and I have something to live for". I can do that right now, because I will always have something to live for.. I live for myself.. I am enough cause to keep on living. Somedays I might forget that.. Because yeah, somedays might be hard. But I have a belief, that no matter what happens.. I'll make it through. I've shown myself that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just needed a little help in realising that..&lt;br /&gt;For a full list of those who helped me, visit my newest myspace blog (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7654355004470259568?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7654355004470259568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7654355004470259568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7654355004470259568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7654355004470259568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/show-me-meaning.html' title='Show Me The Meaning.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3398675581508208738</id><published>2008-11-03T17:24:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T20:08:56.808+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I Let Go.</title><content type='html'>The world is finally on Sarah's side, yay for Sarah.&lt;br /&gt;Today.. I let go completely. I was at the doctors, and I looked out the window.. And who did I see walk into the plaza? Nathan. I double checked, just to make sure.. And it was him.. And here's what made me smile leaving the doctors..&lt;br /&gt;I didn't feel a thing (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if you truly need to let go.. You need to see that person.. I was planning on telling them that at a party I was going to.. I was going to look them straight in the face, and tell them that I let go.. No matter how many times you've asked about me, no matter what you tell people.. I let go. I thought I needed to tell him I let go to really let go.. But I just needed to see him.. And when I looked at him.. I just felt nothing. And I knew then that I had let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where does this leave me now? I honestly don't know. I'm feeling pretty crappy at the moment, but that might be because I'm sick. I guess I'm still just a little scared..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my parents are fighting, and my father just said I don't think. What the hell? I wasn't even involved in the fight :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-3398675581508208738?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3398675581508208738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3398675581508208738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3398675581508208738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3398675581508208738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-let-go.html' title='I Let Go.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3321554166902615344</id><published>2008-11-02T19:10:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T21:23:05.721+11:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is The Last Time.</title><content type='html'>It's so strange.. How things can change.. How things can go from completely crap to completely wonderful in a matter of days. I was unsure.. Of everything basically.. I was unsure of when I should let go, how I should let go, if I should let go.. I decided inside that the expiry date was to be the 14th of December, and if nothing had happened.. Then that was it. I was to let go.. I was to move on..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people.. Okay, three of them asked why I was doing what I was doing.. I said I didn't want to look back and wonder what could've been. I was doing this to keep myself sane.. To this day I wonder.. Still, I wonder.. What could've been.. Why didn't I do the thing that could've made it all better? Why did I run? I don't ever want such questions wandering in my mind again.. Ever, ever again. People thought it was "crazy" that I still cared about you after all the heartache I went through.. And I don't think they'd ever understand it unless they were in my position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been unsure on how I feel for a while now.. And I'm still a little unsure.. But I know that I felt a whole deal greater being with you today. And maybe all I need is some time to be honest with my self.. Time to think.. Maybe then this unsure feeling will leave..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was the first time in a long time when I felt truly happy. It was like all the waiting paid off, all the questions left unanswered were answered.. It just.. It felt good to be me today.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, super duper good (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year fucked up, badly. I used to think that the world was purely evil. That life isn't fair. I still think that with every happiness I get, something can go wrong. But I used to think that something &lt;strong&gt;will&lt;/strong&gt; go wrong.. I used to believe that, and when things did go wrong.. I found myself at a worse-off place. I used to believe that I was being punished.. I used to believe that I made one mistake, and would be suffering an eternity for it.. I used to believe that there was something greater out there, giving me certain types of happiness, and just taking them away.. I used to believe that my life would be a neverending story of loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to mourn the loss of people that probably weren't worth those tears. I used to hate myself, because I wasn't "enough" of a person to have their love. I used to be so alone. All I've ever done revolved around bringing myself out of the lonliness spiral. I am scared of being alone. I've always been scared of it, and I think that I will never conquer it. However, I have more understanding now. I realise that the world doesn't end because a relationship with someone you love does. I realise that the world has dark days, but equally great days. I accept that life isn't fair. But what justifies fair? What is fair? Maybe we all have the power to make our life fair, we just need to know that we have that power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now.. If I was given the choice.. I wouldn't take back anything that has happened. All of us have to learn sometime that people aren't always who you hoped they'd be.. We have to learn that sometimes you don't get what you want.. Sometimes the world hurts us, harshly. I've learnt that.. So when it comes down to it all, I don't do things without thinking it through.. I won't do something without serious thought. Although it has all hurt bad.. I'm grateful. Because I know what it feels like to lose faith in the world, in its people.. And have that faith restored. I've been to hell and back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I feel okay.. Because, I realise.. I realise that no matter what happens.. I am going to be okay.&lt;br /&gt;In the long run, I will be okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-3321554166902615344?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3321554166902615344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3321554166902615344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3321554166902615344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3321554166902615344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-is-last-time.html' title='This Is The Last Time.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-6034281061363574921</id><published>2008-10-31T18:07:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T20:57:28.339+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Seasons Change.</title><content type='html'>Hello, wonderful world.&lt;br /&gt;How eventful and unforgettable this week has been.&lt;br /&gt;However, I would like to start this post with the words "I'm going to do a Nathan".&lt;br /&gt;You see, certain people think it's okay to start referencing my past, when they think they can make a point.. Some sort of stupid ass statement.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad I didn't tell you about Tom, because maybe that would've hurt. Hell, you can reference Nathan to everything.. It's not the first time you've done it.. And it's not the first time it doesn't affect me. I'm angry, however, at the fact that you come off as such a smart child, but can be such a stupid fucked up bitch. And that you think it's okay to bitch to my cousin about people who couldn't care less about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's it. That's all I'm going to say on this stupid topic. I can treat people like they don't exist, and from this moment onwards, you do not exist. What, what's that saying? Oh yeah. That's right. I'm going to do a Nathan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not knowing is the worst thing at the moment.. Not knowing what tomorrow will bring, not knowing what next month will bring.. Not knowing where my life is headed..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought waiting would be okay.. But I'm scared.. I'm scared this will be like last time.. I don't know if I should wait anymore.. Because I won't be able to handle the outcome of waiting gone to waste.. I wish I was able to look into next year, and see where I am at. Because if I'm able to do that.. I'm able to decide on this waiting situation..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day that passes I dread it more. I become more scared, more worried.. I don't want to lose again.. But I have a strange feeling I will.. And if this feeling is confirmed by more days of waiting.. I won't know how to let it all go..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reminded of having hard but easier pain now, or pain that will be unbearable later. I'd rather have pain never.. And I'd rather prolong it as long as possible.. But if, if I can't prolong it.. Will I wait for the date to come and get that unbearable pain? Or will I do it now and take that hard but easier pain? It's hard now just thinking of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sarah and Kelsey.. I need some advice..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-6034281061363574921?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/6034281061363574921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=6034281061363574921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6034281061363574921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/6034281061363574921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/seasons-change.html' title='Seasons Change.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3339515975834479072</id><published>2008-10-29T20:01:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T20:35:38.721+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hurt Too.</title><content type='html'>This week has been seriously crappy.&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling pretty crappy about myself again. I know, I know, I'm "so pretty", I'm "innocent". But I just feel so shit about the person I've been. I'm sick of feeling alone..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even want to go to formal. Fuck formal, I swear. All it has caused is problems, and I'm probably going to end the night by jumping off something. Same with Oporto cruise, I swear. I can just imagine myself jumping off the boat ~ That's why I wanted to take Ellis, so someone was watching me incase I couldn't handle it and did jump off. I'm kind of dreading the cruise now.. I guess I'm dreading a lot now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm faced with not knowing what I want again. I don't know what to do. I wake up feeling numb, I go through the day being a bitch, and I come home and try to sleep it all away. Doesn't really work, because I have to wake up the next day and go through it all again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been able to draw for a while aswell.. Something about the innocence and freedom of it is gone. Now all my drawings are just pages of depression.. Pages of what I know my life is again. It's also been really hard to cry.. I can feel the tears forming, but they won't come out.. I don't know whats wrong with me.. I don't want to go back to this shit.. I want it to be gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why all this pain? I just want it to be gone. I just want someone to come and take it away. But I can't trust anyone enough to let them in like that..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just feel so depressed.. I don't think I'm all too well either.. It's just so hard at the moment.. At the moment? Who am I kidding? &lt;strong&gt;It's always hard. &lt;/strong&gt;My medication doesn't work.. It's meant to make me feel happy.. But I've been feeling the opposite now, for a while..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand people that just jump into things. I don't understand a lot actually, but that's something that has been standing out lately.. I wish I was able to let go. I wish I didn't feel the sadness linger. I feel disconnected again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I notice that when I sleep more than 7 hours I have dreams.. The thing is, they're always about things I dread.. Things I dread happening, but things that are out of my control. I woke up the other morning, and I thought this one dream had happened. I can't explain how I'm feeling at the moment..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like losing something, accepting it was gone, and then it's back. And you don't know what to do, because you had accepted it would never be like it was. And there's parts of your heart that has accepted that whatever you felt.. It's gone.. But you're still a girl who needs people, and now you're scared, even though your heart isn't really in it anymore.. You're still scared of losing.. Because you're so used to losing.. And no matter what this "something" has done, there was a time when it meant everything.. And you know what it feels like to lose everything, and to wish, for a very long time, for its return. Maybe you don't know what to do in your current situation because every other time, once it was gone.. &lt;strong&gt;It was gone. &lt;/strong&gt;It wasn't coming back.. It never came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this dream just showed me what I was scared of.. And what had happened once my fear had come to life.. I'm used to not getting what I want.. I know, that with every good thing that happens to me, an equally worse off thing can happen.. I know life isn't fair.. And sometimes its not fair on me to know that.. Sometimes I wish I was like so many of my other friends.. The ones that think love is this thing that exists after years, the ones that have never, not even close, ever been depressed.. The ones who have lost hardly anything..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I was like them. Because if I was like them, I know in my heart that I would never wake up numb, I would never have to reflect in my attitudes how I'm feeling.. I'd never try to fix my problems by sleeping them away..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd be a capable person.&lt;br /&gt;Not even I trust myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-3339515975834479072?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3339515975834479072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3339515975834479072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3339515975834479072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3339515975834479072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-hurt-too.html' title='I Hurt Too.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-324795907736929687</id><published>2008-10-27T19:31:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T19:48:29.188+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Come Undone.</title><content type='html'>Well yay for being over all this fucking shit.&lt;br /&gt;And Sarah Clark number 2 thinks I'm model material, because I have that type of prettyness, wth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the worlds worst friend. God I hate myself. He needed me, and what the hell can I do? Nothing. I can't do anything about it. How the hell do you try to convince someone not to take their own life when just a few weeks ago you were in the same situation as him. Sure, maybe the scenes that took place were a little different, but in the end, we both thought the same things. And then we have to welcome being crushed. Oh fuck this fucking shit. Why can't, for once, our lives be acting as though they're in our favour? Nothing is okay, again. And what if he does something to himself now, because of me? Because of how fucking crappy I am as a friend. I didn't know how bad things had got for him.. I didn't.. But I don't know what to say to him. "Sure, don't try suicide, because tomorrow's going to be a better day". I can't lie to him, because I've been in tomorrow for a while now, and it sucks. I thought I was okay with all this, but I'm not. I'm not okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell does life want from us? Does it want to push us so much that we doubt whatever happiness comes our way? Is it going to hurt us so much just so we can hurt other people just as much? You know, I really am doubting myself again. What kind of person does this? I fucking don't know.. Who the fuck am I now? Have I become that person again? The one that doesn't give a shit about anyone else? The one that doesn't care anymore? The bitch I've tried not to be? Am I her again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who have I become, because I'm not who I wish I was. I'm just as bad as the people that have hurt me. And because of them, now I'm hurting the people that helped me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could take all this shit back again. I wish everything was different. I wish I hadn't become me, I wish I hadn't done this.. I wish I didn't.. I wish I wasn't me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this isn't the only problem at the moment, trust me. I wish everything wasn't changing.. I wish I wasn't learning new things.. I wish everything was how it used to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-324795907736929687?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/324795907736929687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=324795907736929687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/324795907736929687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/324795907736929687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/come-undone.html' title='Come Undone.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8202518071988286460</id><published>2008-10-26T19:41:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T19:49:00.208+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Everybody's Changing.</title><content type='html'>I've felt, more than okay with everything for a few days now. I'm confused on what to do now. I've been focusing on just getting through Year 10, and then being able to think about what I want to do with myself, and what I should do in respects to the people around me. I've told myself just to wait, because their are a few dates that are coming up that will bring me to people I need to talk to, people I miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First date is in November, and I don't know what to do now.. I'm confused on what this one wants. We kinda ended knowing eachother over a year ago now, but I still, I still wonder about him from time to time. And hearing about him.. About what he says and does.. Sometimes I wish I still spoke to him.. Sometimes I wish we still knew eachother.. He said someday, someday we might talk to eachother again.. Someday we might know eachother again.. Maybe someday is coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the second date is in December. Now this relationship is a fucked one I think. God can only know what I want, and God can only know what he wants. I'm scared of this relationship, I am. But I think all that fear has pushed me away in some respects, and it has caused me to be confused about what I want again. I think that if one doesn't work out, the other might.. But if I was asked about which one I would want to work, I can't answer that, and I don't think I can do that to myself again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want the waiting to continue forever, and I want it to stop now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8202518071988286460?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8202518071988286460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8202518071988286460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8202518071988286460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8202518071988286460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/everybody.html' title='Everybody&apos;s Changing.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-2900010563741067381</id><published>2008-10-26T01:59:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T02:04:42.177+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Someday.</title><content type='html'>I'm at this point where I'm okay with waiting. I, I realised today that everything will be okay.. I'm not depressed anymore.. And I realised today that that's because I'm happy. I'm actually happy. I don't know how things are going to end up, but I know, I know now.. That I will never ever feel alone again. I have so many people that care about me.. I'm finally seeing what people have been telling me for the last two years. If I need to wait for people, then I will.. And even then if it doesn't turn out.. I think I'm going to be okay..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-2900010563741067381?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/2900010563741067381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=2900010563741067381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2900010563741067381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/2900010563741067381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/someday.html' title='Someday.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-109431313946794789</id><published>2008-10-23T19:28:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T21:20:47.817+11:00</updated><title type='text'>This Thing That Breaks My Heart.</title><content type='html'>You know.. I really need to have a big whole confession blog. Because.. Today.. I guess changed it all again.. And maybe a few people out there need to understand whats going on in my mind..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I've been trying to focus all my energy, all my thoughts.. On something other than Tom. I kind of thought that if I tried, there was all the possibility that I could succeed. It might not have been what I wanted, but it made the thought of waking up to another day without him not as painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That doesn't mean I've moved on. &lt;strong&gt;Nowhere near have I moved on.&lt;/strong&gt; I miss you every single day, but there's not much I can do without letting myself become vulnerable again. I don't know what you want, which has been pointed out several times that guys never know. But I really, really miss you. Everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How exactly do I say this? &lt;strong&gt;I am just scared.&lt;/strong&gt; That's all it is. I don't know what to think, I don't know what to do.. And I'm scared I'm going to lose you again if I let you in like I used. That, mixed with the feeling of not knowing what you want, is what causes me to feel like this. When I think about you, I don't think anyone has made me feel that happy in years. And it scares me not knowing. It scares me when I think I might lose you again.. And people have told me that maybe it's for the best, just accepting that that might happen.. And if I accept that, then we might as well not know eachother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't accept that. When Alex told me to just delete your number, and delete whatever messages I had from you, I couldn't. I can't just do that. But I can't just sit here and feel depressed every night.. I needed to do something..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever words typed here might just be a lie to help me make it through another day, because I feel lost without you. And I don't know what to do about that, not anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-109431313946794789?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/109431313946794789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=109431313946794789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/109431313946794789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/109431313946794789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/this-thing-that-breaks-my-heart.html' title='This Thing That Breaks My Heart.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-4081975763317429123</id><published>2008-10-20T16:56:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T17:44:16.143+11:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Time I'm Honest.</title><content type='html'>Dear Whoever,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm typing this, whatever you call it.. Because it's all I can do right now. I need to tell you things, and I wish you knew. But I can't do that to myself again. I wish I was strong enough.. I wish I was.. But I'm not. I can't do anything, not without somehow letting this out. I was waiting for a bus, and it hit me.. I don't want to have to tell myself to start again, I don't want to lose what I had worked to build.. But I already have. Because, I look back.. I have exams now, and the first day of my last exam block, was the day when I became sick again.. I mean, really. I came home, and tried to knock myself out.. I hit myself repeatedly, I told my mum I wasn't worth anything, I wanted to be dead.. I didn't see a reason.. And then I got a reason.. You meant so much.. And I didn't want to lose that.. I never, ever, ever wanted to lose that.. I didn't want to lose you.. But I did.. And now I'm only realising how much I really loved you.. How much you did for me.. And I honestly don't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You weren't the first I person I loved.. But you're the one who meant the most.. I thought I could do this, but I can't.. I just can't.. I've tried to put all my energy into studying, I've tried to not be hurt, but I am.. And now I can't study. I just want everything to feel okay again. I just want it to be okay again. I just want you to tell me it's going to be okay.. Just like you used to.. Because I used to believe you, and I need that right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you, just like before.. Whatever I wrote in the post before this was probably just a lie. I kept trying to push away the hurt I'm feeling right now, and maybe it's because I'm scared again, maybe it's because I thought it would be best.. But it's not. I'll have to deal with it one day.. And I thought maybe dealing with that is trying to find someone else who makes you just as equally happy.. But right now, it's impossible. And maybe, maybe I don't want to find someone else. I mean, I can name two relationships right now that ended because I was scared. I don't even know what I was scared of, I didn't.. But I was.. Or maybe I just knew in my heart that no matter what that person did, I would never love them the way they deserved. And I think when you realise that, well there's not much that can keep your relationship together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do, I don't know what to say. All I can say is I miss you.. Everyday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-4081975763317429123?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/4081975763317429123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=4081975763317429123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4081975763317429123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/4081975763317429123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/first-time-im-honest.html' title='The First Time I&apos;m Honest.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-5035420183417554181</id><published>2008-10-18T22:13:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T22:23:15.522+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Now That You're Gone.</title><content type='html'>This has, most definitely, been the weirdest week of my life. I find myself not caring anymore. I have felt so many different things this week. Here is my list: happy, important, loved, depressed, sad, suicidal, betrayed, used, unwanted, unfaithful, special, beautiful, hideous, angry, evil, unloved.. And most importantly.. I’ve felt like I always have.. Lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do about this Tom situation, but honestly, I don't.. I don't care about it anymore. Of course I still care for him.. But I'm just done with that part of my life.. I don't need to wait around for someone who doesn't know what he wants.. I don’t need to feel like I’m not enough.. I'm done with the pain part of my life, I want it to all be over. I didn't want this thing that happened with him to always cause me to wonder about what could have been, what I did wrong.. But when I didn't feel like I was enough for him, I got so angry. One day it resulted in my cutting myself over 30 times.. But, I now see that.. That in him contacting me, I was able to let go. It was probably for the best, in the end. I'm starting to see that.. But sometimes I miss the person he had become to me, but I think that person left.. And won’t be coming back.. I did love him, but I don't think love should be this hard.. I did love him, I'm not going to say I didn't. But that love died, the second.. I think it died the second he came back. Maybe I loved who I thought he was, maybe I loved how kind he was to me, maybe I loved him because I didn't miss Peanut.. Maybe I loved him because he loved me back, I don't know. All I know is I don't.. I don't wake up anymore wondering about him, I don't wake up missing him.. I feel like enough again. And sometimes I wish it was different, because I really did love him, sometimes I wish it turned out different.. He made me feel alive again, he honestly did. But that certain type of trust and feelings I had for him are gone. And I don't think they're coming back.. I didn't think I'd ever feel happy before Tom, not honestly happy.. But for a moment in time I did. And I will always be grateful towards him, because he did save me. He did give me something to fight for, something to believe in, but now I need to find something worth fighting for, not wait for it to find me. I went to bed Monday night, thinking I needed him to live, and I had somehow lost him. Thinking that I had carried myself for two months, and I had just let him ruin that again like that.. I hated myself Monday, I honestly did. But I really need to know that I can take care of myself.. That even when my heart breaks, or people lie, or people aren't who I thought they'd be, I'll be able to take care of myself.. I'll be okay. I will always care about Tom, he did mean a lot to me. But waiting around? This week has been hell enough, and I don't know if I'll be able to wait.. It could be forever. It used to hurt, a hell of a lot. But it got easier along the way. I guess now he just seems like a different person, but there will always be a part of me that cares about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Years pass and people change, the bluest skies can turn to grey. And though it's going to hurt for now, &lt;u&gt;every ship must sail away.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really find truth in those lyrics. Life sucks, I get it. In end the, whatever friendship, whatever love, whatever relationship you have - one day it'll be gone. It can be due to your own fault, theirs, or because they've left this world completely, I get that, and I've accepted it. I guess we just have to make the most of what we have at this moment of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes I think we do need someone to remind us of that. That maybe we see ourselves as evil, or hideous.. And the rest of the world might just see us as people who are just lost. But someday, they’ll find their place in the world, someday they’ll be in a place, belong with someone that feels like home. I think it’s okay to lose ourselves.. But what’s not okay is starting to think that you are not enough as a person, that someone out there has more worth than you ever possibly could. I know that there’s someone out there worse of then me, I know it. And when the world is a bitch to you, then you be a bitch back, because you need to make sure that you’ll be here tomorrow. One day I’ll find my place in the world. And that day I know I’ll be truly happy. And I won’t look back at these past years with a frown, but a hand to thank each and everyone I’ve met along the way. The ones that changed me for the better, and the ones that changed me for the worse. Because, either way, I learnt that, in the end, it’s all worth it. And I'll understand more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-5035420183417554181?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/5035420183417554181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=5035420183417554181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5035420183417554181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/5035420183417554181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/now-that-youre-gone_18.html' title='Now That You&apos;re Gone.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-3442291895948353891</id><published>2008-10-16T22:32:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T00:19:06.637+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Friends.</title><content type='html'>This week has been a very weird one.. I went from almost letting go to not being able to, to understanding what I need to do in order to let go.. Confusing, yes. Basically, I thought I could let go, and thought I was doing it, to not being able to, which made me completely wack and angry.. To understanding what I need to do.. And it has been a thing highlighted in my past, trust me.. All I need to do to escape the pain? &lt;strong&gt;Walk away. &lt;/strong&gt;I really, really understand now. If it's too painful, why should I endure it? No one should have to question their worth, not ever.. I know for me, Monday night.. I couldn't find any worth.. I really, honestly and completely, doubted I'd ever get out of that hole.. I didn't see a way out.. Not again.. I felt like I had let myself become vulnerable again, and I just got crushed.. And my insecurities will not leave..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess we sometimes just need to be reminded of the people we are.. Of the impact we've had on someones life.. I was reminded tonight, of someone who hasn't been in my life for a while.. I guess if we have enough of a hold on someone, and I don't mean you control their life.. I mean, you bring something to their life, something that will make them wonder how you are, how you're doing, a year on.. It might say something about the person.. It definately made me feel like I had some sort of impact.. That they, maybe might miss me from their life.. Sometimes I wish things had turned out differently.. You know? If I didn't leave Grammar, I probably wouldn't have gone down the self harm streak.. I probably would still have long hair.. I probably wouldn't be on this medication.. But leaving Grammar led me to Rosebank, and to my job, and I know that I wouldn't trade that to take me back two years ago.. But sometimes, I wonder.. Would I be a different person? Would I be happier? I don't know.. But I know that something good came out of leaving Grammar, even though I'm only realising it now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learnt what the world was like. I learnt how to truelly feel, and I learnt that there is some hope left somewhere, you just need to look. It might be in the form of a memory, or a person's words.. Or in someone's eyes.. Just a look, a feel, anything, that will tell you that you'll be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past, I have done things I wish I hadn't. I have said words I wish I could take back, and I've lost people that I wish I didn't. I guess the recent months have shown me that I can fight back.. That I can learn to trust someone again, learn to love someone again, and even if it doesn't work out.. In the long run I'm going to be okay.. I guess now I'm just going to have to accept it all.. Even though it might not be what I wanted, not one bit..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll just have to get used to it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-3442291895948353891?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/3442291895948353891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=3442291895948353891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3442291895948353891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/3442291895948353891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-friends.html' title='Just Friends.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1046555713787754597</id><published>2008-10-14T18:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T19:27:52.963+11:00</updated><title type='text'>That's What You Get.</title><content type='html'>Last night was the work meeting.. Yay4Oporto. I still don't see why I had to go, seeing as Mohit wasn't there anyway.. But whatever, we went for dinner afterwards, even though I only had a coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still confused about everything, by the way. And last night didn't make it any better.. So I came home, went straight to bed (yeah, I had like a gazillion hours of homework as well) and cried for a very, very, very long time.. Also contemplated suicide, which was, you know, the last place I wanted to end up in in my head. I thought about od-ing, but really couldn't be bothered to get up.. And then I did something I haven't done in a long time.. I prayed.. You have to see, the day my Nonna died, I just lost faith in God completely. Sure, I believed there was a God, but I didn't believe in him.. If you get my drift.. I just thought I was being punished, because I asked to be taken, and my Nonna died instead..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I prayed, and I asked for the pain to be taken away.. I am so sick of feeling hurt, and betrayed.. And I don't think I've been as angry as I was last night in a very long time.. I repeated, must have been a hundred times.. Just take me.. Just take me away from my pain.. I asked to be taken to the place where my brother and Nonna are.. I just wanted out last night, so badly. I felt useless. I didn't see myself being able to study, because I was so disappointed, and depressed. I thought "I have to do it tonight..". I didn't see myself passing any exams, I didn't see myself making it to the end of the year.. I just gave up.. I just wanted out.. I just doubted myself so much.. Eventually, I fell asleep. I woke up around 12:30, and I had two messages from Tom..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again.. This is what I don't get, I just don't understand it.. I just want to know what he wants from me. He misses me? That's great, it makes me feel that I had some sort of positive impact on his life. I wrote in the previous post that I didn't want it to turn out like last time.. I don't know what to do.. I honestly don't.. Less than 24 hours ago I was in a place that I have tried so hard not to go back to.. And that's because I accepted, not completely, but mostly, that once I left work, be it Thursday night or Sunday, that would be it. He didn't want me in his life, I would've been fine. I had accepted it.. I had made myself feel okay about it.. But he said he missed me, and I know I missed him.. He meant too much to me.. I wasn't just going to ignore his messages.. I just felt strong last week.. The topic of him came up, I just asked not to talk about it. But now, I feel so completely weak. And I feel betrayed in a few ways, and I wish I didn't. I just wish I knew what he wanted from me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1046555713787754597?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1046555713787754597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1046555713787754597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1046555713787754597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1046555713787754597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/thats-what-you-get.html' title='That&apos;s What You Get.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-766930220453826564</id><published>2008-10-10T18:44:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T01:59:05.059+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Slow Show.</title><content type='html'>Last night was my last time working.. I just have had too much of Ziggy, no way in hell am I going to work on Sunday D: Anyway, while I was leaving work I checked my phone and I had a message from Tom.. To be honest, I didn't know what to expect when I opened the message.. It could've gone from anything to "i h8 u bitch, zomgz". Anyway, the message asked if I missed him.. In previous posts I have said I missed him, which is true.. But I kind of accepted that that was it.. I'd miss him for a while, but it would go away after awhile.. I think I pushed whatever I felt towards him away.. It just didn't hurt so much anymore.. I had quit work, I had announced that I hated him.. I had found out supposed answers to questions I had waited two months for.. I missed him, but I didn't think about it as much.. I accepted that whatever "it" was, wasn't coming back.. I just lost trust in him, and then everyone else..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week was a bit hard on me.. I wasn't handling shit very well.. And I started thinking things weren't worth it again.. And I felt useless to stop it.. I felt powerless. And I got into a fight/argument with a girl at work.. which just made everything feel worse..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to say again, I don't know what to do. I'm sick of all these games that get played. Tom said he missed me once before, and we started talking again.. for one night, and that was it.. I don't want it to happen again.. This is what makes me feel so worthless.. It's like they have to check on me, to make sure I'm okay, and that's it.. Just make sure she's okay and the guilt will go away. And once the guilt's gone, then I'll slowly drift from their minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I knew where I stood with him &gt;&lt; Does he genuinely miss me, or is it out of guilt? I guess I just need reassurance.. I just need to know what he wants from me.. If it's out of guilt, I don't know how I'll forgive him.. I just don't see the point of contacting me for one day, and that being it.. It's not very fair on me.. I forgave him for what he did a while back.. He's only human, after all. And I know that I'm a handful.. I was just angry because he promised it all.. He promised he wouldn't leave.. And even though I had my doubts, I wanted nothing more than to believe him.. I guess I put too much pressure on him.. I don't know anymore.. I used to get so worried that he'd meet someone better than me, someone prettier, someone smarter, someone just better for him.. I guess that's why what Shar told me made sense.. Everyone at work seemed to know more than I did D: Oh, I don't know what to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-766930220453826564?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/766930220453826564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=766930220453826564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/766930220453826564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/766930220453826564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/10/slow-show.html' title='Slow Show.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-8425516889226729708</id><published>2008-09-28T19:34:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T20:08:14.512+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Far More.</title><content type='html'>I don't know what to do again.. I really want to cry, I just can't. I just wish none of this happened. I wish I could go back, and I wish I could then change it all, stop it from happening. Most of all, I wish I was more.. More as a person. I wish I didn't hate, and I wish you didn't give me a reason to hate. I'm not going to lie, I miss you. Of course I miss you. I miss being so happy, I just miss all of it. Oh well, I'm crying now. I just wish I had greater understanding, that I had a mind and a heart that could help myself overcome this. I wish people didn't always have to leave. I wish people stayed. I wish I could find someone who can be an exception to the rule. Someone that stopped me from believing it to be the case.. I wish that I never had to wish any of this stuff, I wish it never happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't let this go, not yet. I can't help but feel angry. For the first time in a long time I was allowed to smile, I was allowed to be happy. I was allowed to go from suicidal girl to happy girl in a matter of weeks. My faith in the world was restored. And the only thing I was afraid of was losing you. I was always worried that I would, because I always lose. I just can't understand any of this. I can't, I can't feel anything again. I feel numb. I either feel numb, or angry. Whatever happiness I might show is a lie. I'm a lie. I'm not okay. It's hard to pretend that you don't exist, because I can't do anything else. I don't talk about how I feel anymore. You really have made me doubt the world, and you did that by saving me. I miss you so much. And I can't do anything to fix this pain. I don't know what to do anymore. I just don't. I wish none of this happened. I wish you didn't leave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-8425516889226729708?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/8425516889226729708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=8425516889226729708' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8425516889226729708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/8425516889226729708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/09/far-more.html' title='Far More.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-291159080749550368</id><published>2008-09-22T19:42:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T20:47:57.681+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I Stood.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I quit work. Maybe not completely, but for now my last day at Burwog is the 12th of October. Quite honestly, it felt like a major weight had been lifted, that now I know there is an end, and I wont have to be around after it. My manager picked up quickly that I run from my problems, which is completely true. I mean after the whole Adam fiasco, what did I do in my attempt to fix the problem? I left. Didn't have to see him, so, eventually, time healed that wound. With Nathan? Well after our friendship ended I didn't see him at all. I didn't go to his school, he didn't go to mine, and that was that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this time? It hurt so much more. And I think that was because I never once told a lie. I told next to everything, and I couldn't so much run away when the first sign of trouble hit. So I attempted the whole 'brave face' phase. I tried to be strong. But I soon, rather harshly, learned that that wasn't, and never will be, me. I've never coped too well in times like this, and I don't think I ever will. So I tried my best, I tried not to think of it, but it was the damn constant lonliness that wouldn't, and still will not leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way I see it is this - Since June of 2006, everything plainly sucked. I left my first high school, because I did what I always do - I ran. It took two years for me to able to smile, because I felt that all the waiting, and all the lonliness, would be coming to an end. I thought that, because you made me believe it. Whatever morals, and whatever words of disbelief I told myself, didn't matter, because I finally had something to fight for. I had you. And I would've done anything to keep that. I can't wait another two years, and I definately can't wait while you're around. I can't look at you without feeling alone, because all I want to do is not feel alone. I feel just like I do before I met you - I feel helpless, and tired. I'm tired again. Tired of what? Trying to come up with reasons to fight. I will not make it again, not if I have to wait &lt;strong&gt;two years for two stupid months of false hope and happiness. &lt;/strong&gt;So you want to know the reason I want to leave? Because people always do. That's what people do. When it gets too tough, when it gets unbearable, we leave. I will not be there for any longer than I need to, not now. I will leave, and I won't be coming back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you so much for showing me what I should have already known. Don't trust anyone, whoever reads this, just don't. I guess then when those we wish we could trust show us who they really are, we will suffer a far lesser disappointment. I tried, with all my heart, to be enough for that so called 'trust'. This is the last time I'm going to write of the pain you inflicted, of the disappointment you are. I'm done. And in three weeks, I'll be out of hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-291159080749550368?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/291159080749550368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=291159080749550368' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/291159080749550368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/291159080749550368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/09/where-i-stood.html' title='Where I Stood.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-7327455028469341515</id><published>2008-09-18T20:24:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T20:39:26.555+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Apologies.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes it can be very hard to form words.. To explain what is unseen to others.. To just tell others what we're feeling.. What we ourselves don't understand..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have always seen me as a very happy character, I know that. People think it's all happiness, and laughter. Somedays I am happy. Somedays I can actually be happy, without having to fake it. Somedays, not so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm having a hard time with is being alone again. It's not that I miss you, it's more I miss the sense of security, and understanding, that you showed me. I just miss being able to smile, I miss not having to miss anything. You let me let go. You made me not carry the burden for once.. You just gave me a reason to want to fight. My cause finally had a reason. I just miss that feeling I used to have, the one that made me want to be me for once. Now I just feel numb, I just don't feel all too happy. I have to come home again, and I have to deal with it again. I don't know what I'm going to do.. I just hate this.. I hate it all.. And now I hate you.. Because that's all I can do..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-7327455028469341515?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/7327455028469341515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=7327455028469341515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7327455028469341515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/7327455028469341515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/09/apologies.html' title='Apologies.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117889799767848381.post-1946434254282072895</id><published>2008-09-09T23:21:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T19:53:47.250+10:00</updated><title type='text'>This is where I always was.</title><content type='html'>On my wonderful myspace page the first blog I ever posted was titled "where am i now?". Why did I decide to title it that? The only reason I can think of was I wanted to try and say in those four words 'yay4sarah - she's moving forward'. But, honestly, I am hardly moving anywhere.. I feel like I'm trapped again.. in my own self. I feel numb, to be honest.. I haven't felt emotionally numb for about a year and a half, but now it's back - and it's not a great feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first time I got my heart broken - how I just wished for something to come and fix the pain, how I just waited, thinking that in another month the pain would subside.. The pain would eventually disappear. I used to feel so useless, so helpless, and I never knew what to do. I'm going back to that now. I feel like I put myself on the line, and I just got crushed. I'm sick of feeling alone, you know. I hate having to wake up in the morning, and feeling nothing. I just don't feel anything. The whole world's moving forward, like it always will be, but I can't seem to move.. I can't seem to find a reason for fighting again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have figured out what I want to do when I leave school, which is the only positive thing that has come out of anything in the last two years. Art is something I can escape into, it gives me the ability to draw what I'm feeling.. It's the only thing I can share with myself and be happy about. It's the only thing I think I'm remotely good at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sick of feeling alone. I'm so sick of being alone. I don't want to have to fight with myself again to keep going, I just don't.. I don't know what to do. I don't.. Not anymore. For a moment in time things started to become clear, I started to have belief in the world again. I started to believe in people again, and I didn't blame myself as much. I'm trying hard not to think about it, but this constant sense of lonliness will not leave. It will not go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking a lot lately, about this 'being alone' situation.. And really, I'm done waiting around for something to find me. If I want to feel better, I need to take action, because I could be waiting forever again, and I don't think I'm going to make it if I have to wait again, I'm sick of trying to fight with myself, and continue to keep telling myself that someday I'll be happy, someday I'll be okay.. If I want my own happiness, I'll have to make it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117889799767848381-1946434254282072895?l=thetidethatleft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/feeds/1946434254282072895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117889799767848381&amp;postID=1946434254282072895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1946434254282072895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117889799767848381/posts/default/1946434254282072895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetidethatleft.blogspot.com/2008/09/this-is-where-i-always-was.html' title='This is where I always was.'/><author><name>SARAH.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04173572986487044707</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ip_mLdMpSzY/SenNq89bmqI/AAAAAAAAAGs/vpk4VnDJpbI/S220/IMG000301.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
