<?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-6375756170757464712</id><updated>2011-04-21T23:52:54.995+03:00</updated><title type='text'>confused girl</title><subtitle type='html'>*warning* its not just a nickname, I'm really confused
*warning* I don't review my post before I send I just write! and I dont read them again, feels uncomfortable :s</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>confused girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00031056258820797161</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375756170757464712.post-4542332425322142374</id><published>2008-09-08T00:27:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T00:49:08.255+03:00</updated><title type='text'>part one</title><content type='html'>before i continue, i want to talk briefly about the period of my life when i was 17-20. i call this period as the first black period in my life in those three years all i did is that i cried all night and all day whenever &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; alone. I was depressed and i thought of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;committing&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;suicide&lt;/span&gt; many times but i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;couldnt&lt;/span&gt; why???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats a long story all i can say is that my dreams were crushed ... and no one stood by my side ... no one tried to think that this little sensitive girl needs help, not even the ppl who are supposed to be the closest to my heart (my mom and dad). they all left me alone.&lt;br /&gt;I used to stay all day in my room not talking to anyone. no one bothered and asked about how do i feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guys don't ever consider the dreams of your kids to be silly even if from your point of view they are silly. i lived all my life dreaming of things and my parents were so encourging me to do all of those stuff that i want to be and even they were telling me that they couldnt do it but you will (just like in the movies) but when it was time they were like we don't care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the most hurtful thing is when one of your parents complains about how his/her parents didnt allow him/her to acomplish his/her dreams and when the time comes and it becomes your kid's dream you repeat the same action??????????? although you were telling him/her all the time you will do it and you go and tell all the kids at school about how proud you are of your parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the problem is that they still complain about how their parents didnt allow them to do the things they couldnt do!!!???? how come?? and more over you encourge other kids, their nephews to follow their dreams??? but when it comes to your kid no? let her go to hell so what if i promised her with the things she wants ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in addition to that is the pains that comes when you see the society stealing your dreams from you. 7sait eny mathlooma and i was. akthar sh3ooor '7ayes bl denia lama t7es enek mathloom i felt like i was 50 when i was just 17. its not only painful, noo. the worst thing that comes from feeling this is that you start to hate everything. you hate all ppl you hate your life and you hate yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for three years i lived alone in my room no friends no life, crying and wishing that my heart stops soon. but it didnt ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6375756170757464712-4542332425322142374?l=confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/feeds/4542332425322142374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375756170757464712&amp;postID=4542332425322142374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/4542332425322142374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/4542332425322142374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/2008/09/part-one.html' title='part one'/><author><name>confused girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00031056258820797161</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375756170757464712.post-1111579079121362241</id><published>2008-09-07T21:32:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T22:04:46.910+03:00</updated><title type='text'>part zero</title><content type='html'>when I read the first comment on one of my posts I was shocked! at first I had the feeling that I was writing to myself but when I saw the comment I was scared,  I was telling my self what will he think of me after several posts?.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;any way I want to do this because they all say it makes you feel better .. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; know yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so I came back home I went online choose a nickname and started checking what others are talking about on the main screen. this guy talked to me in a new screen, I just liked the way he talked and took his email. that all happened in less than an hour. I have never returned to chatting this after this half an hour! you will know why next ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next day, there was a problem with my sister's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pc&lt;/span&gt;. I came online saw this new guy online, I told him if he knows any shop I can take this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pc&lt;/span&gt; to. he told that he owns a shop himself and i said yeah &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; I will come and give you the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;pc&lt;/span&gt;. the same afternoon I took the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pc&lt;/span&gt; went to the shop. I felt that the place was kind of empty. I was wearing a black long skirt with a black shirt that is twice my size and a black hjab too. I don't wear any makeup as i stated prevoiusly. I was just a normal girl or maybe less :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as i entered the shop, i saw him there i kind of liked the way he looks. i sat down waited him to check whats wrong with the pc. he said that I need to format the pc you can keep it for a day. I told him ok and i wanted to leave but he held my hand I got scared!! @@&lt;br /&gt;he told me that i looked like a cute kitten (how??? was he blind?) I wanted to leave I tried to push him away but guess what happend he kissed me yesss!!!!! he did?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i then ran away to my car and went back home. i was so nervous, so scared and didnt know how to explain what just happened back there?????? why the hell would he do something like? What did I do? I didnt do anything!!! 7ata ma kent 7a6a perfume nothing???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never talked to a guy before over the phone! and this is what I deserve? I know that girls talk to guys when they are just 14 but none of what happened to me did happen to them? and guess what Im 20 not 14! ya3ni i'm not a kid??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6375756170757464712-1111579079121362241?l=confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/feeds/1111579079121362241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375756170757464712&amp;postID=1111579079121362241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/1111579079121362241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/1111579079121362241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/2008/09/part-zero.html' title='part zero'/><author><name>confused girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00031056258820797161</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375756170757464712.post-308138777018037407</id><published>2008-09-06T14:42:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T15:03:04.735+03:00</updated><title type='text'>one of the stories ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; previous introduction was only for me to say the following ..&lt;br /&gt;I was a 20 years old girl but with a brain of a 14 years old girl .. I was still interested in buying toys and play with them. I still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; buy any make-up, didn't look at myself in the mirror. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; wait I don't know to explain this (please try to understand, I know for certain that I'm not clear and its only because I'm confused and also because I'm not a writer, I have never ever wrote a diary, my thoughts or a story before, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;totally&lt;/span&gt; new to this!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lets get back now to what I wanted to say. I was so stupid yes. I had access to the internet but all my interest was in checking silly things say forexample or lets not disclose this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one day I was at my cousin's house, she told me knows this interesting website where you can create your own nickname and chat with ppl from all around the world. I know whats chatting all about but I had never been interested in chatting just because I only like to talk to ppl face-to-face not over the phone and not online!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6375756170757464712-308138777018037407?l=confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/feeds/308138777018037407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375756170757464712&amp;postID=308138777018037407' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/308138777018037407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/308138777018037407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/2008/09/one-of-stories.html' title='one of the stories ..'/><author><name>confused girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00031056258820797161</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375756170757464712.post-3099866404808216958</id><published>2008-09-06T13:32:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T13:41:31.150+03:00</updated><title type='text'>more info ...</title><content type='html'>I was that lonely, silent, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Innocent&lt;/span&gt; girl that everyone knows ...&lt;br /&gt;my mom played a role too, my father too I guess. no had ever commented on how good do I look. I believe that my mom believes that her daughter is just an ugly girl. you will ask how do I know that? I just know it! I feel it (how do they say el qrd eb 3ain omah '3azal? mo dayman believe me). she always talks about other girls, my cousins, her friends, girls on TV but she had never ever commented on me? I used to hear girls in school talking about guys following them and commenting on how good did they look. yes I don't go out at all but no one had ever said anything about me. I thought that I am a ghost or something, a person who is igonred. Who is not known.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6375756170757464712-3099866404808216958?l=confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/feeds/3099866404808216958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375756170757464712&amp;postID=3099866404808216958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/3099866404808216958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/3099866404808216958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/2008/09/more-info.html' title='more info ...'/><author><name>confused girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00031056258820797161</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375756170757464712.post-5034562787049716606</id><published>2008-09-06T13:17:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T13:30:32.389+03:00</updated><title type='text'>How to start?</title><content type='html'>okay now from where can I begin, everything seems to be normal at this particular moment!&lt;br /&gt;okay let me talk about that thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before I tell you the story, I have to give u a little background Info about me. I was the girl in your school who was always out of the coverage area. I had friends but I was away. Always trying to sit alone and think! think about what exactly I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know but what I know is that I was always thinking about something. in the weekends I just stayed home, I didn't go out not to malls not to anywhere. I was that calm, silent girl. I remember I was sitting with a group of friends and a friend wanted to tell a joke and suddenly my friend who was sitting next to me put her hands over my ears so I don't listen because everyone thinks I'm a kid and that was true!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6375756170757464712-5034562787049716606?l=confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/feeds/5034562787049716606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375756170757464712&amp;postID=5034562787049716606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/5034562787049716606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/5034562787049716606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/2008/09/how-to-start.html' title='How to start?'/><author><name>confused girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00031056258820797161</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375756170757464712.post-5622737175745173832</id><published>2008-09-06T13:03:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T13:13:42.168+03:00</updated><title type='text'>my own blog!</title><content type='html'>I started this blog because I have so many thoughts in my head. some of these thoughts are destroying my life. I have two options, either to go to a shrink? or to write them in a blog, maybe I will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; okay after I write them ...!&lt;br /&gt;I don't want anyone to judge me, I'm writing this because I'm really confused. I may also write the same thought from different &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;perspectives, its like when you buy an outfit and decide that it looks so good on you but when you go home and try it you feel that its not good at all!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;yes it happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Another thing, I'm not good at english or arabic since school days, I will just write whetever comes to my head without sorting or fixing it! I'm not writing this because I want to publish in the future!!! or have my own column in a newspaper!! I'm just an ordinary person!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;thnx alot!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6375756170757464712-5622737175745173832?l=confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/feeds/5622737175745173832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375756170757464712&amp;postID=5622737175745173832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/5622737175745173832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375756170757464712/posts/default/5622737175745173832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confused-girl-q8.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-own-blog.html' title='my own blog!'/><author><name>confused girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00031056258820797161</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
